Hey Son,
I’m sorry to tell you this, but your father and I have no money left to send you to college.
To be honest, we thought you’d be a pro hockey player by now, or at the very least, have a full scholarship to the school of your choice.
I know you told us over the years that you “hated” hockey, but your father told his father the same thing, and look at how successful he became. You don’t become Assistant General Manager of Skate Emporium without a strong background in the sport.
Besides, what kid doesn’t want to become a professional athlete? And what parent doesn’t want to be able to brag about it?
You may remember that we did try out different sports at first. In fact, we were banking on you being a basketball player because they have the most lucrative contracts, but unfortunately you get your height from little old me, and your hands, although still adorable, are just too tiny.
Then we tried baseball, even tying your right arm down to make you a southpaw pitcher, but when you got cracked in the forehead by that line drive, you seemed to lose your passion for it, along with your ability to remember names, finish your math homework, and wear a coat in the winter.
But hockey! Your reflexes were so quick with the video controller that we thought you’d be a natural. And once we threatened to take your Playstation away, you seemed willing to give it a try.
Then the McConnellys moved to town and Stuart joined the team. Boy, his gear was top-quality! So it was only fair that we get you the best equipment too, which meant new gloves, a new carbon fiber stick, and thousand-dollar CCM Vizion skates with ergonomic one-piece boot construction and slim ankle gel padding that you outgrew after half a season.
Still, there were training camps every summer. We had to take out loans but you were so eager, especially when we said this meant you wouldn’t have to go to summer school.
And do you remember Buck, the coach we hired when you were nine? We had to sell our second car to pay for him, which meant I stopped volunteering at Meals on Wheels, but the work he did almost got you selected as a seventh alternate to the D team.
Of course, when your dad had to quit his job to help coach, money got a little tighter, but it was the only way to ensure you’d make the team every year.
Don’t get us wrong! You would have made it on your own – you have a wicked slapshot, even if you did struggle with your aim. Remember that time you practiced on Nana and one-timed it straight into her left hip, causing her to topple over and drop the laundry basket she was carrying?
Boy, that was a hard shot. Her replacement surgery put us deep in the hole but we really believed you were destined for the Big Show after that.
Unfortunately, you started to lose interest after your friends all quit in order to hang out with girls, drive recklessly, and experiment with recreational drugs. The only thing that kept you going was our offer to pay you for every game you played. But three years of that really drained our account.
So now, the only way we can pay for your college is to sell the house. Which we’re willing to do, if you promise that you’ll pursue a hockey profession that we can still boast about. A scouting director, or coach, or a general manager with a hefty enough bonus that you can buy us a new home.
By the way, don’t feel too bad, we have nothing left for your sister either. In fact, sometimes we forget we have her! There’s just no money these days in women’s sports.