I did not set my clocks to “spring forward” last night. And today I have no desire for spring to arrive and winter to end. Today is the day I dread—the day I have to face every year—the end of the hockey season. There is game film to be reviewed, but no urgency to do it; there is no practice to plan, any lines to adjust, nor skills or systems to refine. Today there is a huge hole inside me; one that simply can’t be filled, a void that only time can heal.

It is a familiar, yet miserable place, where all teams end up. For me it was the end of my first season coaching girl’s hockey at the high school level. After twenty-two years of watching the state tournament from the lumpy seats at the Alliant Energy Center it was my time to stand on the bench. On Friday morning I stood there, alone, and stared out at the ice from the vantage point every Wisconsin coach has dreamed about at one time in their career. It was a dream that began with my son Theran, and was finally achieved with my twin daughters Elizabeth and Emily. I was filled with confidence and pride. I thought about my Dad and wished he could have been there to witness it.

Two hours later I stood there at that same spot and watched our dream to be state champions end with an overtime dagger to our hearts. There is no heartbreak in sports that can compare to losing in overtime. It is a devastating moment for one team and an exhilarating high for the other. Trapped inside the arena glass, two teams experience dynamically opposite emotions. The razor thin line between winning and losing is all that separates them as they exchange handshakes. It is a titanic test of humility and sportsmanship for emotionally charged teenagers.

Proudly and expectedly both teams pass the test. The character building of athletics is confirmed.

On a Friday that may go down as one of the best in state tournament history, three more intensely fought games would follow and three more teams would watch their season’s end. Like others I left the ice still believing we were the best team there, an opinion coaches are allowed to hang on to, while at the same time acknowledging that the champions earned their title and that their name will go in the record book and not ours.

In a lockeroom of shattered dreams there are few if any words that can console the finality of a vanquished season. It isn’t just the dream of being a state champion that has been snatched from our grasp—it is also the end of a ride that started way back in November.

Seniors must bear the additional burden of knowing their high school careers as hockey players are over. At this moment they would barter almost anything for a chance to play just one more game. Listening to one of our seniors talk about never stepping on the ice again as a Storm player was heartbreaking. Underclassmen must say goodbye to teammates who have been leaders, role models, friends—sisters. There isn’t enough time to process it all, the clock ticks, another team awaits, their season still full of life. Our healing process begins.

One day later, we stepped off the bus in Wausau and officially brought an end to our season. It is an odd scene for those unfamiliar with our journey, teammates, who will see each other at school on Monday hug, cry and bid each other a heart-wrenching goodbye. The finality is as stark now as the overtime goal was earlier.

Over the past four months we have asked these players to sacrifice, to put aside their individual agendas and to become a “family”. We asked them to believe in a dream and promised them that if they worked hard enough that dream could come true. Game after game we require them to go out and take the risks, knowing full well that success and failure will be their constant companions. Both will provide them with a unique test. Their measured responses are the foundation of what makes the value of the athletic experience so priceless. Life will serve up similar twists and turns.

I always imagined going to the state tournament would somehow satisfy me. It didn’t. I now imagine that winning a state tournament will satisfy me. Deep down I know better. It is a perspective that escaped me as a younger coach. While my fire to be a state champion still burns hot, it is not why I am still coaching. Because I know that no matter how a season ends, it will always be the end of the journey that I mourn. I don’t believe there is a trophy that can sooth that ache inside for one more practice, one more game, one more bus ride, one more day as a “team”.

As my children at home pack up and move on with their lives I realize how precious each hockey season, and the family of players I inherit, is to me. Thinking about the day when I don’t have another season to look forward to is a thought I can’t entertain right now.

Coaching girls was an eye opening experience. Today it became an eye watering experience. With a long winter dragging on and the majority longing for spring to arrive—I just want to go back to November.