Echoes of the Ice: How Our Past Shapes Who We Become

Watching Western Michigan University win a national hockey championship last month stirred something unexpected in me. Pride, sure...but also reflection. It’s been more than twenty years since I walked those Kalamazoo sidewalks as a student, juggling my passion for music with an equally consuming love for hockey. Those were years of split loyalties, tough decisions, and small victories. And somehow, they’ve stuck with me.

I never made it to the varsity bench. Division I rosters didn’t come knocking, and only a couple of DIII schools showed interest back then. But even without the glory of the "big squad," hockey never left my life, it just changed forms. I joined the club program, carved out a niche there, and eventually spent three seasons coaching WMU’s women’s team.

At the time, I didn’t realize how deeply those years would shape me. Coaching, especially at that age, teaches you things the classroom can’t. It teaches patience. It teaches leadership without the title. It forces you to communicate clearly, to manage personalities, and to think beyond your own role on the ice. The focus shifts from your stat line to your players’ growth, their chemistry, their resilience. You stop trying to prove something and start trying to build something.

Those years were full of milestones—two league titles, a 63-27-9 record (if memory serves), and the kind of camaraderie that’s hard to describe but easy to remember. A decade later, we even managed to gather a group of alumni at the old Joe Louis Arena to celebrate the anniversary of that first championship season. Walking into that building, hearing pucks echo off the boards, brought everything rushing back. It was a reminder that the things we build in our twenties don’t just fade away. They follow us, evolve with us, and sometimes, quietly guide us long after we’ve hung up the skates.

I met two of my closest hockey friends during that time, and we’re still connected today. The friendships born from early passion and shared purpose tend to last. They’re forged in long road trips, tense overtime periods, and the quiet hours spent solving problems that have nothing to do with hockey at all.

Now, when I think about my career, the work I do, the teams I lead or collaborate with, I can see how those early lessons still ripple through. The way I approach projects is often the way I approached practices: with intention, but also with flexibility. I pay attention to team dynamics, I value preparation, and I understand the long game. It’s not about winning every meeting or getting your name on the marquee, it’s about setting others up to shine and doing your part consistently.

Hockey taught me how to pivot. Music taught me how to improvise. College taught me how to balance both. Those experiences didn’t just fill my resume; they shaped my operating system. They gave me a unique lens through which I interpret challenge, growth, and leadership.

So when I saw WMU clinch that championship, I couldn’t help but wonder if some small echo of our time there made its way into the DNA of this year's squad. That’s the thing about legacy, it doesn’t always come with plaques or headlines. Sometimes, it’s just the culture you help build, the example you set, or the energy you leave behind.

We are shaped by where we’ve been. Not in a nostalgic, stuck-in-the-past way, but in the very real sense that every role we’ve played, every team we’ve joined, every passion we’ve chased adds another layer to who we are. Those layers aren’t baggage. They’re a sort of scaffolding.

I’ll never forget standing behind the bench, calling lines, or rallying a locker room full of women who were there because they loved the game as fiercely as I did. And I wouldn’t trade those years for any amount of varsity glory. They made me who I am. They gave me stories, yes...but more importantly, they gave me perspective.

Congratulations to the Broncos on a well-earned championship. And to everyone who’s ever played a small part in a bigger story: your chapter still matters. It always did.

Terry Collia of Raido Consultancy with the coaching staff of the WMU women's hockey club in 2003.