Headin' north with my son

Back in 2013, Jared and I drove to Rochester, New York, to watch an outdoor hockey game where the temperature at opening faceoff was 18 degrees (and falling). The NHL games we're seeing this week will be played in indoor arenas, so there's that.

My son Jared and I will be spending a week in Canada on what I've been describing as "a hockey trip."

Yes, we'll hit some tourist spots, but our main purpose in the Great White North will be to watch NHL hockey. Specifically NHL hockey as played by my favorite team over the last 33 years, the Ottawa Senators.

Many times I have told the story how I, a lifelong Clevelander, became an ardent Sens fan.

It started back in 1992 when I was a sports writer for The News-Herald, our local newspaper. The International Hockey League's Cleveland Lumberjacks had just arrived in town and I offered to cover the team for the paper.

Being at best passingly familiar with the rules and intricacies of hockey, I set out to learn as much as I could about the sport (which included taking ice skating lessons Sunday nights at the rink in Brooklyn, Ohio).

I also decided I needed an NHL team for which to root. Ottawa had just come into the league, and seeing as how I was fascinated by all things Canadian, I decided the Senators would be my team.

This despite knowing not even a single player on their roster.

I figured once they became good, I could say I had been a fan since the very beginning.

Admittedly, "good" has been somewhat elusive for the Sens over time, though they did have a nice run in the 2000s, including an appearance in the Stanley Cup Finals in 2007.

I have seen Ottawa play live about a dozen times over three decades in cities ranging from Chicago and Pittsburgh to Tampa and Columbus.

But never in Ottawa itself.

Until now.

Jared and I will travel first to Montreal to watch the Sens take on Les Canadiens at the Bell Centre, after which we'll make the two-hour drive west to Ottawa. There we'll see my guys face off against the St. Louis Blues and New York Rangers.

Finally, for the first time, I can proudly wear one of my Senators jerseys as a member of the home crowd, without fear that an opposing fan will toss beer at me when I cheer a Sens goal.

Well, I suppose that could still happen, but it doesn't seem as likely to happen there as it does in, say, Pittsburgh.

Jared and I have taken several sports-themed trips together over the years, but this one is the most ambitious of all. As I write this, I don't know what the weather will be like, so I can't be sure the long drive to Eastern Ontario and Quebec will be smooth sailing.

Or even doable.

Still, we already have the tickets and I've already booked the hotel rooms. So worst comes to worst, we'll fly up there if we have to.

That would be expensive. But after all, this is hockey.

It's serious business.

I still say cross country is a delightfully crazy activity

It's Friday and it's September, which means Terry and I will be at a high school football game tonight. It's just what we do (and have done for years) on late-summer/early-fall Fridays, given our involvement with the Wickliffe Swing Band.

We also have a routine on Saturday mornings this time of year, and it involves driving to random schools and watching large groups of thin young people run 3.1 miles so quickly you're sure some of them are going to collapse.

Welcome to the insane world of cross country!

Four years ago when my son Jack first got into this sport, I immediately recognized that cross country runners are some of the toughest people on Earth. I still say this is true as Jack, a high school junior, participates in his fifth season as a "cross" runner.

Because that's what the cool kids call it: "cross." Not "cross country," just "cross."

These athletes run in all conditions: dry or wet, hot or cold, light or dark. They have been training all summer and continue to train throughout the season, so there's very little that deters them. They are machines.

And they take pride in their toughness, by the way, just as they should. You hear all the time how tough football players are, but few of them could endure a season of cross country training (and I say that as a former footballer).

The cross country family – which includes not only the runners themselves but also their parents and siblings – is a close-knit one. We cheer for our own kids and for each others' kids. We stand outside in those changing fall weather conditions and yell for everyone wearing our school colors.

Actually, we show support for any kid willing to subject himself or herself to the trials of long-distance running, regardless of which uniform they're wearing. They all deserve our encouragement.

For years we were a soccer household, as all of our kids played it and I coached it, but I'm so proud to have joined the cross community. Everyone there, kids and families alike, is lovably insane.