Hockey-taught coach pickleball brawl rushes to hospitals
It was a brisk Saturday afternoon when Coach Greg Thompson of the Milnor Minor Hockey Team found himself in the middle of a chaotic and unexpected series of events. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the small town of Milnor, North Dakota. The Milnor Minor Hockey League had just finished up a practice session at the local rink, and the young players were gathering their gear, heading home after a long week of school and sports. Coach Thompson, a dedicated yet often reserved figure in the community, had planned to head straight home for a quiet evening.
But fate had other plans.
The small town of Milnor, with its population of just over 500 people, didn’t often see drama, let alone emergency situations. The town prided itself on its tight-knit community and slower pace of life. Yet, on this particular day, something unexpected would draw Coach Thompson into an unusual and life-altering series of events.
The Pickleball Incident
The local community center had been hosting a pickleball tournament that afternoon. For the uninitiated, pickleball is a rapidly growing sport that combines elements of tennis, badminton, and ping pong. Despite the town’s small size, pickleball had become wildly popular with residents of all ages, including some of the hockey players’ parents. As Coach Thompson was heading home, he passed by the community center and decided to stop in to see how things were going. He had never played pickleball before, but his interest had piqued as he watched a few games in the past. It seemed like good fun, something to unwind with.
However, just as he stepped inside, he saw something that made his heart skip a beat.
In the middle of a heated match, Larry Harris, one of the town’s most well-known and competitive pickleball players, had lunged for a shot—only to miss completely. His feet slid out from under him, and with a sickening thud, he crashed hard onto the wooden floor. There was an audible gasp from the crowd of onlookers, and Coach Thompson rushed forward, recognizing the danger instantly. Larry had hit the floor awkwardly, his arm twisted beneath him at a strange angle.
The sight was enough to make Thompson’s pulse quicken. Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees beside Larry, assessing the situation. The pain in Larry’s face was unmistakable, and a quick look at his right arm confirmed Coach’s fear. The arm appeared to be badly broken, perhaps even fractured in multiple places. There was no time to waste.
Rushing to the Hospital
Though Coach Thompson had no formal medical training, his years of experience as a hockey coach had taught him to react quickly in high-pressure situations. He quickly signaled to a nearby bystander to call for an ambulance. It wasn’t long before emergency responders arrived at the scene, and Larry was carefully loaded onto a stretcher.
By now, Coach Thompson had taken charge of the situation, guiding Larry’s worried wife, Carla, toward the ambulance. She was in shock, barely able to speak as she gripped her husband’s hand tightly. Coach Thompson, his heart heavy with the weight of the situation, felt a deep responsibility to see things through. “I’ll go with you,” he told her, offering reassurance, even though he knew that the situation could be serious.
As the ambulance sped toward the nearest hospital in Fargo, Coach Thompson sat quietly in the back, watching as the paramedics worked to stabilize Larry. His mind raced, wondering how something as simple as a recreational game of pickleball had taken such a dangerous turn.
The ride to the hospital felt endless. Thompson could feel the tension in the air, not just in the vehicle but in his own chest as well. He had coached countless young players through skates and puck drills and had seen injuries on the ice, but this was different. Larry wasn’t a player; he was a friend, a community member, and now perhaps someone in need of more than just a coach.
Upon arrival at the hospital, Larry was immediately whisked away for X-rays and further evaluation. Coach Thompson and Carla found themselves in the waiting area, a room full of uneasy silence. It was there that Thompson’s phone buzzed with an alert.
The Milnor Minor Hockey Team, still unaware of the accident, had a scheduled game the next morning. The coach’s mind began to shift from concern for his friend to the next day’s game. Should he stay with Larry and his family, or should he go back to the rink, where young players were depending on him? There was a tug-of-war within him, but ultimately, he decided he would stay. He wasn’t just a coach for the hockey team—he was a coach to his community, too.
After what felt like hours, a doctor finally came out to speak with them. The news was both comforting and concerning. Larry had indeed broken his arm in several places, and he would need surgery. However, the doctors were optimistic that with proper care, he would eventually recover. There was a brief moment of relief, and Carla hugged Coach Thompson tightly, thanking him for his quick thinking.
The night stretched on, and after making sure Larry and his family were settled, Coach Thompson finally headed home.
Back to the Game
The next morning, Thompson arrived at the rink to prepare for the hockey game, still feeling the weight of the previous evening. As he addressed his players, he couldn’t help but reflect on the odd chain of events. He encouraged the kids to play their hardest, to respect their opponents, and to stay safe on the ice. But deep down, Thompson knew that the true lesson of the weekend wasn’t just about sportsmanship or teamwork—it was about being there for each other when it mattered most.
Though the hockey game would go on, the town of Milnor would always remember the day when a coach went from the rink to the hospital, not for a game but for the well-being of a friend. And in the end, that was the true meaning of being a coach.
