The Time I Was Kicked Out of a Game Immediately After Scoring a Goal: A Lesson in Passion, Ego, and Growth

It was my last year of minor hockey. You know that time—when you’re not quite an adult but definitely no longer a kid. Hormones (testosterone especially) are running high, pride is practically stitched into your gear, and you’ve convinced yourself that every single game matters more than anything else in life.

I can’t say this was my finest moment. But I can say it taught me a lesson I’ve carried into many rinks since—whether as a player, a coach, or a dad watching from the stands.

Let me set the scene.

The Buildup: A Nothing Moment with a Side of Ego

I don’t even remember what started it. Just that I was casually exchanging a few words with the ref before an offensive-zone faceoff. It wasn’t heated or dramatic—probably something like, “Watch him cheating on the draw,” or “Are you guys ever going to call a hook?” Typical minor hockey chatter.

Then, as I was getting set for the draw to the left of the opposing goalie—someone I hadn’t said a single word to all game—he barked out:

“Get in the circle, [expletive].”

I honestly don’t remember if I chirped back. I don’t think I did. But I sure remember letting it stew in my head—the exact thing you’re not supposed to do. But when you’re swimming in a hormonal cocktail, you feel disrespected even when no one’s really thinking about you.

The Goal: Three Seconds of Glory

I settled into my stance. The puck dropped.

I’m a right-handed shot, and to this day, I’m still not sure what came over me—adrenaline, frustration, maybe a little luck—but I pulled off a move I’d only ever managed once or twice in my life.

I pushed the puck through the opposing center’s feet, darted around him, grabbed it clean on the other side, and rifled it under the bar—short side.

It was one of those ridiculous goals. A highlight-reel kind of goal. The kind you pray someone’s camcorder was rolling for. For one second, I felt like Mario Lemieux.

And that’s when things went sideways.

The Celebration: Swagger That Backfired

Instead of turning to my teammates or heading to the bench, I dipped low and glided straight through the goalie’s crease—eye contact the whole way.

I didn’t say a word. Didn’t need to. It was petty. It was immature. And most of all—it was disrespectful.

I’d never celebrated like that before. Not in a real game. And I haven’t since.

The ref didn’t hesitate. Hand up. Two minutes for unsportsmanlike.

And what did I do?

Did I accept the call and skate to the box?

Of course not.

I chirped. Loudly. With all the righteous indignation of a teenager who thinks the world’s out to get him.

And just like that—boom.

“You’re gone.”

The Aftermath: A Lonely Walk to the Room

I wish I could say I recognized how dumb it all was right away. I didn’t.

I stomped off to the dressing room—gloves still half-on, helmet dangling from one hand—muttering about the ref, the goalie, and how unfair it all was.

It wasn’t until later—maybe the car ride home, maybe weeks down the line—that it finally hit me:

I’d gone from one of the best goals I’d ever scored… to one of my most embarrassing moments. All in five seconds flat.

Nobody remembered the goal.

They remembered me getting tossed.

Why This Story Still Matters

Now, years later, I’ve coached hundreds of players, watched thousands of games, and had more conversations than I can count with parents, refs, and other coaches.

And I can tell you—this story plays out over and over again, in different ways, at every level of hockey.

It’s the player who gets chirped and takes the bait.

It’s the kid who scores and makes it all about themselves instead of the team.

It’s the celebration that crosses the line.

It’s the moment when passion spills over into ego.

And it always ends the same way: someone sitting alone in the dressing room while the game goes on without them.

To the Players: Passion Is Power—But Only If You Can Control It

I love passion. I want players fired up. I want them competitive and emotionally invested.

But if you can’t control your emotions, they’ll eventually control you—and usually not in a good way.

One chirp from a goalie shouldn’t dictate your next ten minutes of hockey. One beautiful goal doesn’t give you license to taunt.

The best players—the ones who stick around, who lead, who win—respond with their play, not their mouths.

And here’s the truth: a goal followed by a selfish act? It gets forgotten. Worse—you get remembered for the wrong reason.

To the Parents: Help Them Learn From the Messy Moments

If you’re a parent, I’ll say something you already know: your kid’s going to mess up.

They’ll over-celebrate. They’ll say something they shouldn’t. They might even get tossed.

Don’t ignore it. Don’t overreact. But please—don’t excuse it.

Talk to them. Ask what happened. Ask how they were feeling. Ask what they’d do differently next time.

Let them know it’s okay to feel fired up—but there’s a right way to handle it. Growth doesn’t come from perfection. It comes from reflection.

To the Coaches: Fire Is Good—Until It Burns the Team

Coaches, you know the kid I was. You’ve coached him.

The one with a chip on his shoulder. The one who can flip a game—or flip out.

Your job isn’t to smother that fire. It’s to shape it.

If a kid gets tossed after scoring a goal, the worst thing you can do is brush it off with a “Well, at least he scored.”

Use it. Teach from it. And for the love of the game, don’t glorify it. Being immature doesn’t make someone a “gamer.” Being mature does.

And don’t forget—players are watching how you talk to officials. If you’re constantly out of control, they’ll follow your lead.

What I Wish I’d Done Differently

If I could go back, I wouldn’t change the goal. (Let’s be honest—I’d love to see that one on replay.)

But I’d change everything after it.

I would’ve turned to my teammates and celebrated with them.

I would’ve let the goalie’s chirp roll off my back.

I would’ve kept my mouth shut when the ref made the call.

And I would’ve stayed in the game.

Because at the end of the day, what’s more valuable—a few seconds of ego, or 5–6 more shifts to help your team win?

I know the answer now.

Final Whistle

Getting kicked out of a game right after scoring might make for a decent story years later, but in the moment? It’s a waste.

A waste of skill. Of momentum. Of leadership.

As players, parents, and coaches, we all want passion in the game. But it has to come with humility, with respect, and with restraint.

So go out there and score that goal.

Smile. High five. Celebrate with your team.

Then get back to the bench, reset, and go do it again.

And stay out of the box.

Ed Garinger is a seasoned hockey coach, mentor, and educator with over two decades of experience. A native of the Bruce Peninsula, he played minor and junior hockey before earning his BA and BEd from Nipissing University, where he also competed in varsity volleyball and extramural hockey.

Coaching since age 14, Ed has balanced his teaching career with an extensive coaching and development portfolio, working with players at all levels. He has coached in the Provincial Junior Hockey League, led youth and high school teams, and served as a learning facilitator for the OMHA. His experience includes elite programs like the OHL/OHF U15 and U16 camps, U17 Regional Camps, and Hockey Canada’s Skills Academy.

A Hockey Canada HP1-certified coach, USA Hockey-certified coach, and Chartered Professional Coach (ChPC), Ed is committed to ongoing professional development and continually seeks to expand his knowledge to better serve players and coaches. Now based in Orillia, he enjoys passing on his passion for hockey to the next generation.