One word of perspective to think about as another season of minor hockey begins. Relax.

There, it's said. For parents and coaches. For players and referees. For administrators and arena workers.

Everyone now take a giant step backwards and a quick, deep, breath and remember, before it begins, what this is supposed to be about.

It is supposed to be about kids and too often we -- the adults -- lose perspective and get caught up in our own games and our own ambitions.

A fascinating study was presented at the relatively inane On Ice Summit that examined hockey in Canada a number of years ago. The study asked a few basic questions about how kids and parents felt about a minor hockey game a week or so after it had been played -- and the answers have stuck with me.

The very same questions were asked of both parents and kids, but the responses were remarkably different.

One week or so after the games were played, kids had little recollection over the details, who won, who lost, what the final score happened to be, who scored and who succeeded.

But the parents were like elephants. They forget nothing. The score. The statistics. The kind of game their child had played. Probably the number of penalties called against them that they didn't think were penalties. They remembered it all.

On one of the minor hockey teams I coach, we often go to restaurants after games in large groups. The young teenagers sit at one table. The adults sit at another.

Inevitably, if you listen in, the conversation at the kids' table has little to do with hockey. They're more consumed with hamburgers and school and some member of the opposite sex and something incredibly funny -- like who farted.

The parents don't just order food. They digest the game. They dissect it. To a point --sometimes good, sometimes not -- they live the game. They talk about who looks good and who doesn't -- until the next game, and they talk about it again.

Thus the key word: relax.

And too often we don't. Too often we're too busy trying to win, giving instruction in the car, yelling at referees, complaining about schedules, coaching from the stands, and I write this from the perspective of someone who adores minor hockey and has dedicated much of his adult life to involve himself in the best game in the world.

The game remains fabulous. The experience is forever enrapturing. The lure of hockey makes Septembers seem less dreary than usual. That's why we cheer so hard each and every year to try and lessen the noise, to try and heighten the experience for everyone involved, to realize that Canadian hockey isn't -- and should never be -- about sending kids to the NHL.

It should be about playing, about being on a team, about a group of kids and parents becoming friends and having something in common forever.

That less than one percent turn it into a profession is nice for less than one percent of those playing. For the 65% who play house league and the 30% or more who play rep or select, the game is every bit as important, every bit as enriching.

We have to keep that in mind as another season of minor hockey begins.