Back in high school at Shattuck, I had the unique experience of playing alongside Sidney Crosby. Even at 15, he had his own way of staying locked in. After a rough shift or if something didn’t go his way, he’d skate back to the bench, take a sip of Gatorade, and pass it down, calling it “magic juice.” It was a little ritual, almost superstitious, but really it was just a reset. A way to shake off whatever just happened and focus on what’s next.

A game isn’t always going to go the way we want. A bad bounce, a missed pass, a tough shift. It’s all part of it. But these are chances to train our brain to respond, not react. That’s where resilience starts.

It doesn’t have to be a Gatorade bottle. Maybe it’s a pre-game playlist that helps a player settle in. Maybe it’s a moment of quiet before warmups. Taking a deep breath, stretching, listening to music that either hypes you up or brings you into the zone. Talking to our kids about how to relax, reset, and find focus helps them stay steady when things get hard.

Hockey is a game of mistakes. But the key is learning how to reframe them. One bad shift doesn’t need to become a bad period, and one mistake doesn’t have to turn into two.

Studies show that the most consistent athletes, the ones who perform under pressure, aren’t the most hyped up or emotional. They are the most even keeled. They learn to stay level, keep perspective, and move forward.

Resilience is built in those moments. By finding a way to reset, refocus, and stay in the grind.

By Matthew Ford | Ford Hockey School

Over the course of my career, I played in nine different organizations — and I’ve had a lot of great mentors along the way. But one coach stands out above the rest: Todd Nelson.

I played for Nelly in two different organizations, and I was proud to be one of his captains. In 2017, we won a Calder Cup together with the Grand Rapids Griffins — one of the highlights of my career. And just recently, he led the Hershey Bears to back-to-back Calder Cups in 2023 and 2024.

The guy just wins.

And it’s not a fluke — his teams have made the playoffs every single year he’s been a head coach.

But what really sets him apart isn’t the cups or banners. It’s how he gets people to believe in something bigger than themselves.

Todd didn’t coach a team — he coached individuals. He treated everyone the same. It didn’t matter if you were the first-line center or the seventh defenseman. It didn’t matter if you had a three-point night or if you were the guy who turned the puck over that cost us the game.

And I was either of those guys on a given night.

But your value to him never changed based on one shift or one mistake. You were still his guy. You still mattered. That kind of trust builds something powerful. It makes you want to go to war for each other.

In the AHL, a lot of players are just trying to hurry up and get to the NHL. It can feel like everyone’s playing their own version of the same game — chasing stats, chasing the next call-up, chasing a contract. But Nelly made the team matter. He reminded us that when the group succeeds, everyone wins. And that’s not just lip service — it showed in how we played and how we carried ourselves.

And we had fun doing it. Those years playing for him were some of the most memorable of my career. We loved coming to the rink. We loved playing together. And we knew — if we got the job done, we’d have just as much fun off the ice too. He created that kind of environment. That joy.

He put in the time. He hosted team parties (annual pig roast). He hung out with the guys after games. He wasn’t just behind the bench — he was part of the group. He showed up for us in ways that had nothing to do with hockey — and that stuff matters.

One of the most underrated things about Nelly is his feel for the pulse of a team. Most coaches, when things aren’t going well, double down — long practices, harder skates, bag skates. But when we were struggling, he sometimes backed off. Gave us rest. Let us reset. And when we were rolling? That’s when he’d push. He knew when to floor it and when to let off — and that kind of timing made all the difference.

And make no mistake — he knows the game. His systems were structured and detailed, but he kept it simple and clear. He didn’t over-coach. He didn’t try to impress you with how smart he was. He just taught the game in a way that stuck (I’ll never forget what I was suppose to do with their D on a 2-1-2 forecheck). You remembered what you needed to do — because it made sense, and because you knew he believed in you to do it.

I’ve had conversations with NHL GMs about him. Some of them can’t quite explain why his teams always win. But I’ve lived it.

He leads with trust. He teaches with clarity. He connects with people.

I don’t know exactly when it’ll happen, but I do know this — Todd Nelson will be an NHL head coach again. And when he is, it won’t just be a new guy behind the bench.

He’ll be winning. And his players will love playing for him — just like we did.

  From my earliest memories, hockey was more than just a game—it was a way of life. My dad played in a league that was one step up from Beer League, part of the old Pacific Coast Hockey League. He suited up for the LA Bruins, and they’d travel up to places like Fresno or battle it out in Costa Mesa. It was tough, gritty hockey—full of heart and character. The kind of league where bench-clearing brawls were a regular occurrence and the passion ran high from both the players and the crowd.

I’d sit in the stands as a 5-year-old with my mini stick in hand, taking it all in. Those moments left a mark. They made the game feel larger than life. And what I didn’t realize then was how much hockey would come to define the rhythm of our family life—not just for a season, but for decades.

Many of the guys my dad played with on the LA Bruins ended up playing together for the next 40 years. A couple days a week, jumping on the ice, laughing, competing, staying connected through this game they all loved.

Today, my dad is 70. He’s coming back from an injury, determined to get back on the ice. He’s played hockey two days a week for as long as I can remember. And he’s not an exception—he’s part of a community of lifelong players who use hockey not just for fitness, but for friendship, identity, and joy.

I still lace them up—not just to coach, but to get that same joy. Hockey keeps me sharp. It keeps me connected. And it reminds me that we don’t have to stop playing just because we get older—we just find new reasons to love the game.

So when we sign our kids up for hockey, we’re not just giving them a sport to play this season. We’re giving them something they can carry for life. A place to belong. A way to stay active. A community to grow with. And if we’re lucky, they’ll love the game like so many of us do—and one day, they’ll still be playing, too.From Five Years Old to Seventy: Why We Never Stop Playing                                                From my earliest memories, hockey was more than just a game—it was a way of life. My dad played in a league that was one step up from Beer League, part of the old Pacific Coast Hockey League. He suited up for the LA Bruins, and they’d travel up to places like Fresno or battle it out in Costa Mesa. It was tough, gritty hockey—full of heart and character. The kind of league where bench-clearing brawls were a regular occurrence and the passion ran high from both the players and the crowd.

I’d sit in the stands as a 5-year-old with my mini stick in hand, taking it all in. Those moments left a mark. They made the game feel larger than life. And what I didn’t realize then was how much hockey would come to define the rhythm of our family life—not just for a season, but for decades.

Many of the guys my dad played with on the LA Bruins ended up playing together for the next 40 years. A couple days a week, jumping on the ice, laughing, competing, staying connected through this game they all loved.

Today, my dad is 70. He’s coming back from an injury, determined to get back on the ice. He’s played hockey two days a week for as long as I can remember. And he’s not an exception—he’s part of a community of lifelong players who use hockey not just for fitness, but for friendship, identity, and joy.

I still lace them up—not just to coach, but to get that same joy. Hockey keeps me sharp. It keeps me connected. And it reminds me that we don’t have to stop playing just because we get older—we just find new reasons to love the game.

So when we sign our kids up for hockey, we’re not just giving them a sport to play this season. We’re giving them something they can carry for life. A place to belong. A way to stay active. A community to grow with. And if we’re lucky, they’ll love the game like so many of us do—and one day, they’ll still be playing, too.

-Matthew

When I was 10, some of my hockey practices were two hours away. Not tournaments. Not even games. Just regular practices. My dad would load me into the car, drive four hours round-trip, and if I got out of the rink fast enough, we’d stop at the ampm for a corndog and a slushie. That was our little tradition.

Looking back, I know how lucky I was. My dad was all in—not in a pushy way, but because he saw how much I loved the game.

Most of the time, I wanted it too. I lived and breathed hockey. I’d shoot pucks for hours, replay NHL highlights in my head, and dream about the next game. But not always. Some days, I’d drag my feet, grumble through stickhandling drills, or try to sneak away early. (Some days, I just wanted to be a normal kid.)

That doesn’t mean extra work is wrong—a lot of it helped me grow. But now that I coach, I’ve learned that even good things need balance. The key isn’t skipping development—it’s recognizing when a kid needs a little breathing room.

Some kids want to be on the ice seven days a week. Others need time to miss it. There’s no single path, and that’s the point. We’re not just trying to build skill—we’re trying to build something that lasts.

So go ahead—book the extra sessions, take the shots, use the backyard setup if you’ve got one. But check in every now and then: Is your kid still smiling on the ride home?

Because that smile—maybe with a corndog and a slushie—is the clearest sign you’re doing it right.

-Matthew

For those of you that know my story, I was fortunate enough to play 12 years of professional hockey. I earned a scholarship to play Division I college hockey, led the USHL in goals, and came out of a prep school powerhouse in Shattuck St. Mary’s. But here’s the part most people don’t expect—I didn’t play AAA until my second year of Bantams.

So when parents ask me, “When should my kid go AAA?”—my answer is almost always the same: It depends.

Every kid is different.

When you’re trying to decide where your son or daughter should play, don’t just chase a label. Look for the right environment.

Start with coaching. Find someone who not only knows how to run a bench, but knows how to teach. Someone who coaches individuals—not just the team. Someone who inspires, who actually teaches the game, and most importantly, who cares.

Next, look for opportunity. Is your child going to get the chance to play in all situations? Will they feel like part of the group? Will they be challenged—fail a little, succeed a little—and learn to compete the right way?

And finally, make sure it’s sustainable. The right program won’t burn your kid out with an overwhelming schedule. There’s a balance that matters more than ever at the youth level.

I work with a ton of kids who go on to play Division I, and I can tell you—many of them played AA during their Pee Wee or Bantam years. Development doesn’t follow one path. The key is finding the place where your child will grow, not just as a player, but as a person.

-Matthew

In youth hockey, success is too often measured by goals and wins. But the game is much bigger than the box score.

Developing a strong hockey mindset means shifting the focus to effort, awareness, and team play. Ask yourself: How did I help my team today? Maybe you didn’t score—but you backchecked with urgency, supported the puck, or made a smart chip to move play forward. Those moments matter.

When players start to see value in the “little things”—staying above the puck, working without it, being first to support—they begin to understand the game on a deeper level. And that’s where real confidence is built: knowing you can make a difference, no matter what shows up on the stat sheet.

Stop bribing kids to score. Start praising when they do things the right way. Keep praising effort.

That’s how we grow smarter, tougher, more complete players.

That’s how you build a championship mindset—by focusing on the process.

Matthew Ford

At Ford Hockey School, we spend a lot of time talking about skating, skills, and hockey IQ. But today, I want to touch on something we don’t talk about enough: how other sports can actually make your kid a smarter hockey player.

Everyone loves seeing their kid play soccer for footwork or lacrosse for hands, but the biggest benefit of playing multiple sports goes beyond just physical skills—it’s awareness and decision-making.

Watch a youth basketball game, and you’ll notice the kids who instinctively find open space, move without the ball, and anticipate plays. Those same kids are the ones who get open on the ice, find passing lanes, and create more scoring chances in hockey.

In lacrosse, players who win ground balls and know when to cut are often the same ones who anticipate loose pucks and make smart reads in hockey. The kids who learn to slide off contact in flag football are the ones who attack defenders instead of getting angled off, forcing them to react and leaving them flat-footed.

The best hockey players aren’t always the fastest skaters or the ones with the hardest shots. They’re the ones who see the game, read plays before they happen, and make the players around them better. And often, those instincts can also be built outside the rink, not just on it.

When we talk about development at Ford Hockey School, it’s never just about extra ice time. It’s about giving kids different looks, different reads, and different environments that make them smarter, more well-rounded athletes.

Hockey isn’t played in a straight line. Neither is development. Let them play.

Matthew Ford

With the spring season kicking off, it’s great to see our kids back on the ice, competing, learning, and having fun. One of the best parts of spring hockey is the chance for players to hear different voices and get fresh perspectives from different coaches. But no matter where your child is playing—whether it’s SELECT, AAA, AA, or another program—the most important thing isn’t just the level of competition. It’s about having a teacher, not just a coach, who truly understands how to develop a well-rounded hockey player.

When we look at the opportunities we provide for our kids, they need:

• A place to learn and be guided in the right direction so they can grow both their skills and hockey IQ.

• Unstructured play to develop creativity and instincts.

• Opportunities to compete and challenge themselves in different environments.

• A fun and supportive atmosphere that keeps them engaged and passionate about the game.

A lot of young players can get by simply by being faster and stronger than their peers. But as they grow, that raw talent alone won’t be enough. Development isn’t just about skating faster, shooting harder, or being stronger—it’s about thinking the game fast. The best players know what they’re going to do with the puck before they get it, understand their options, and stay aware of the players around them.

As we move through this spring season, let’s make sure we’re focusing on teaching the game, not just coaching it. Let’s give our kids the tools to think, anticipate, and make smart decisions on the ice—because that’s what truly separates great players from the rest.

Here’s to the kids this spring—learning, competing, growing every time they step on the ice, and most importantly, having fun.

Matthew Ford