It’s happening in rinks everywhere.
A dad hunched over his phone checking to see if he got the clip.
A mom setting up a tripod in the corner of the stands.
Pump-up music queued. Slow motion ready.
All to make their 7-year-old look like the second coming of Connor McDavid — on Instagram.
The handle? Something subtle like @FutureNHL_Prodigy7.
The bio? “Grind. Hustle. Respect. #Draft2034.”
The content? Ten-second clips of toe drags, edited like a Nike commercial, with captions written as if the kid personally negotiated a deal with Bauer.
And for what?
Not development.
Not memories.
Not “the journey.”
It’s for the parents.
This Isn’t About the Kid. It’s About the High.
Let’s stop pretending.
Parents don’t post these clips to help their kid. They that is why they do it, but nope. They post them because it makes them feel good. Every like is a hit. Every comment “beauty wheels!” is validation they’re not getting anywhere else.
It’s dopamine hockey.
The kid scores a goal.
The parent gets the rush.
That perfectly curated reel doesn’t scream “future NHLer.”
It screams: “Mom and Dad are chasing attention they can’t earn on their own.”
To real hockey people, it’s obvious. This isn’t pride, it’s projection.
Coaches See Right Through It
Here’s the inconvenient truth: coaches, scouts, and hockey people do not care about your kid’s highlight reel set to Drake.
They care about:
- Backchecks
- Line changes
- Body language after a bad shift
Your reel conveniently “forgets” all of that.
What coaches actually hear when they see these accounts is:
“If the parents are this crazy at 7, imagine the circus at 15.”
Eyes roll. Trust erodes. And your kid whether you like it or not, gets branded as that Instagram kid.
The Teammate Effect
Kids notice everything.
They know who has a camera on them every shift.
They know whose mom runs the account.
They know who’s playing for clips instead of the team.
And kids are ruthless.
Soon your child isn’t “a teammate.”
They’re Content.
They’re Hashtag.
They’re the walking highlight reel everyone chirps.
Invites disappear. Mini-sticks stop happening. The room turns cold.
Not because your kid isn’t good but because your Instagram made them unrelatable.
A Very Real (But Totally Fake) Story
By age 4, a kid in Minnesota had weekly highlight reels posted by his parents. Captions written in the third person.
“Caleb dominated the O-zone tonight.”
By 6, Mom had him “sponsored” by hockey tape companies.
By 8, Dad was recording hours of ice time just to clip one lucky play.
By 10, the kid cared more about Mom’s edits than playing the game and got cut, year after year.
By 14, he wanted nothing to do with hockey.
Or his mom.
That’s not development. That’s just sad.
Fake Hype Creates Real Damage
Instagram kids don’t learn hockey. They learn performance acting.
They force toe drags instead of chipping pucks.
They chase highlights instead of making smart plays.
They play for likes not linemates.
And when the hype doesn’t match reality?
The fall is brutal.
Coaches bench harder.
Teammates resent more.
Opponents target them.
Because nothing attracts pressure like fake fame.
The Creepiest Part: Parents Writing in “Kid Voice”
We need to talk about this.
If you’re writing posts as your kid — stop.
“I battled hard tonight. Huge thanks to Mom for the pregame pasta.”
No.
They didn’t write that.
No hockey kid would ever write that.
That’s not support. That’s identity theft.
And everyone knows it.
Brutal Takeaways for Hockey Parents
- Instagram is not development.
- Likes don’t build character.
- Coaches don’t want influencers they want hockey players.
- Your kid deserves their own voice. Stop typing like you’re them.
Final Buzzer
Parents, here’s the hard truth:
Your kid doesn’t need a social media manager.
They don’t need a brand.
They don’t need pump-up music.
They need ice time.
They need teammates who trust them.
They need the freedom to fail without it going viral.
Because scouts aren’t searching Instagram.
They’re searching for hockey players with brains, grit, and character.
And you can’t filter that.
Delete the account.
Step away from the tripod.
Hand the game back to your kid.
