With a little help, special kids score
Feb. 24, 2009

The Cat5 Canes bring hockey to children often left out of team sports

Ruth Sheehan - Staff Writer
Published: Wed, Feb. 04, 2009 05:00AM

At the Ice House in Wake Forest, a children's hockey team was zipping across the rink -- on folding chairs.

Keagan Kelly kept slipping off his seat and doggedly pulling himself up. Lauren Atwell kicked and screamed with glee -- though neither her skates nor her stick touched the ice.

And Adam Soderberg ripped a slapshot past the goalie.
"Mom-eee! I scored a goal!"

Adam, who has autism, has never been able to play team sports before, said his mother, Tracy Soderberg.

But on the Cat5 Canes special hockey team, players are developmentally delayed, visually impaired, struggling with muscular dystrophy or cerebral palsy. Some kids skate well; others sit on standard folding chairs pushed by volunteer mentors. Some need help following the puck; others need aid swinging the stick.

The team, the first of its kind in the state, is part of the fast-growing American Special Hockey Association, which claims 60 teams in 20 states.

It is supported by the Carolina Hurricanes. But even Paul Strand, youth and amateur hockey coordinator for the Canes, has been surprised at how quickly the team has grown -- and how solid its volunteer base has been.

"I was skeptical at first," said Strand. "A lot of people have big ideas but not everyone comes through with the commitment. Getting people to volunteer is usually like pulling teeth."

Part of a real team

Not for Cat5 Canes founder JV Cotterell.

A longtime baseball coach in the Miracle League for special needs kids, Cotterell decided a few years ago that his son Tyler, who has autism, needed more real exercise. It's one thing to run bases, it's another to race up and down the ice.

"He also needed to be a part of a real team," said Cotterell, an electrical engineer. Too many kids with special needs are isolated by their conditions.

"They're the ones who aren't picked for the team," said Cotterell. "They're the kids who get made fun of when they play."

In the summer of 2007, when he started recruiting, he had seven children lined up; two were his own sons.

In the team's second season, which began last month, more than 30 kids were on the ice with an even larger number of volunteers.

Cotterell still has to beg and borrow ice time. Sometimes it is donated, sometimes the team pays the going rate: $200-$350 per hour. Every weekend, practice is at a different time, whenever "regular" teams aren't playing. The equipment is donated. That's $500 per player; more for goalies' gear. A sled for one player next year will cost $600.

Safety takes priority

All Cotterell's volunteers stress the message that safety comes first. But it's clear that Kevin "Coach K" Lilley's players have the same flights of big-league fancy that fill the imagination of any young athlete.

"Some of my players have dreams of playing for the NHL someday," said Lilley, whose son Brendan is a goalie with Asperger's syndrome, a form of autism.

For many of the kids, physical limitations have made them the focus of their homes. Special hockey represents the first time they've been part of something bigger, something outside their illnesses, outside themselves.

Consider 10-year-old Eric Lowden.

Eric has been a rabid hockey fan and a whiz on skates since age 3. But at 7, Eric lost his sight, the first sign of Batten Disease, a fatal disorder of the nervous system. Suddenly, Eric's sports options were dramatically curtailed.

"When you have a child that's blind, he can't get on a bike and just ride," said Danielle Lowden, Eric's mother. "He can't run down the streets."

But with a mentor by Eric's side on the ice, he has extra eyes.

"The most important thing is that he's out there with the guys," said Lowden. "It's the camaraderie that is so special."

That's clear from the moment the children hit the ice.

Nicholas Ramirez, 10, whose leg strength is giving way to muscular dystrophy, was answering a reporter's questions during a recent practice when Strand, the Canes rep, called out.

"What, you're getting interviewed now?" Strand teased. "Who are you? Eric Staal?"

Nicholas grinned and shooed Strand away.

Lots of mentors

Every time a player scores in special hockey, the entire rink erupts in cheers, punctuated by the clatter of sticks hitting the ice.

Nicholas' mentor, Vishal Parikh, is a UNC student who comes from Chapel Hill to volunteer. On that Sunday, there were more than 40 mentors, ages 8 to 50, on the ice.

Katie and Dayna Brower form the only mother-daughter mentor team. Dayna, 15, is a figure skater; both are fanatical Canes supporters. But it's not the skating, or the sport, that has brought them out every week for two seasons.

Working with Lauren Atwell, who has developmental delays, they learned that kids with special needs sometimes get upset or scared. Sometimes Lauren would rather make snow angels than skate.

"I don't know who has more fun," said Katie Brower, "the kids or us."

Maybe it's the parents.

For them, special hockey is the rare program that carries no cost. It gives their kids a workout, pushes their sensitivities to the limit.

It's also a chance for the parents to sit in the stands and watch, just as any other parent would.

But for kids such as Nicholas, the joy of special hockey is simpler still: "I like scoring goals."

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