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When Sydney Schulz put up a few fliers, in early January, advertising a one-off women’s hockey night, she was expecting 8-10 women to show up.
Last Thursday night, 32 women took to the ice for an exhibition game, culminating that initial effort begun by Schulz. There were fans. Official-looking jerseys printed from local Jeff Posey. There was a high level of play amongst the athletes—the majority of whom had only picked up a stick a matter of weeks before.
A suit-clad Schulz coached one team. Longtime friend and fellow hockey player, Genelle Gregorio, coached the other.
“The initial goal was to just provide a safe, welcoming space for women to be introduced to the sport,” said Schulz. “From there it just … grew.”
Schulz, the Program and Facilities Administrator for the Town’s parks and rec department, got her start in the sport playing pond hockey in her native Michigan. Despite learning to skate at 16 (in a class of predominantly elementary school-aged boys), she went on to captain the Division 1 women’s team at Michigan State.
In the years following her collegiate career and her move to Mammoth, she’s missed the camaraderie of the sport.
“[Playing], you’re growing in your skill. You’re growing in your perspective … That’s something I haven’t been able to experience since then. We have a fantastic adult league here, but we’re typically one of a few women in the league,” said Schulz, gesturing to Gregorio.
But, clarified Schulz, the point of establishing a space for women’s hockey wasn’t to carve out space on the ice for female athletes, but rather, recruit new players to the sport’s community in Mammoth.
“All it was was wanting friends to be part of something that I love.”
For Gregorio, the expansion of that community to female athletes has been a defining component of her hockey. She was first introduced to the sport through street hockey with her neighbors back in Phoenix before transitioning to roller hockey in middle school. In high school, the teams were co-ed. Checking was fair game. It was Gregorio and one other girl in the league.
She joined Northern Arizona University’s collegiate hockey program in her junior year, where she was the only woman.
“I remember in tryouts, we lined up against the boards for a drill called ‘The Gauntlet,’” recalled Gregorio. “The whole team lined up against the boards, and the object was to just get smashed against the boards, over and over.”
Gregorio’s helmet cage popped off, and she got a black eye.
“Honestly, it was a great time.”
Needless to say, the program organized by Schulz was a departure from Gregorio’s prior experience. After that first night, January 11, it was clear there was demand for a recurring event. A four week clinic, held Thursday nights in February, was borne out of it. Schulz posted sign-ups at 9 am one morning. By 9:45 am, the 42 person roster was full … plus a 22 person waitlist.
In order to accommodate the numbers, Schulz knew she needed another pair of skates. A few male players from the adult league in town offered to help out. Instead, Schulz gave Gregorio a ring.
Neither had coaching experience, but Schulz had taught snowboarding lessons upon first moving to Mammoth. Gregorio was a talented player. The modus operandi in the clinic became Schulz using a “progression” teaching method, by which she broke down skating and stick techniques, mechanism by mechanism, to teach new skills. Gregorio did the drills with the players in real-time, and was a second pair of eyes for those players that needed more attention.
The challenge, said Gregorio and Schulz, was meeting the women—who were of all different skill levels—where they were. Some had league playing experience. Some didn’t know how to skate.
“I mean, a lot of [the players] started off with rock climbing helmets, and mountain biking pads,” recalled Gregorio. “We looked like the Mighty Ducks, District 5.”
“We had people who couldn’t hockey stop. Who had never handled a puck before,” said Schulz. “Now, they’re skating backwards. Taking shots on a goalie, and passing across the ice.”
The first clinic was a success. So by March, they organized another. Schulz and Gregorio wanted to invite the women who had participated in the first iteration back for weekly scrimmages, but needed to source the gear. So, men from the town’s beer league donated and lent out old hockey sticks. Women drove as far as Reno to source second hand equipment.
By the end of March, between the two clinics and the auxiliary drop-ins held on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, Schulz and Gregorio had gotten 95 women on the ice.
“By then, it was too late in the season to form an actual league, but we got the idea to have this exhibition game,” said Schulz.
They approached the powers-that-be at the Community Recreation Center (CRC) and got the green light.
From there, they figured out the jerseys. Got two volunteers from the youth league to play goalie (father and son duo, Paul and Noah Guthrie). Got volunteers from the men’s league to referee and run the scoreboard.
And according to Schulz, it was the refs’ idea to run a stop-clock—that way, in between calls, they could teach game concepts like “off-sides” and “icing” to new players, in real time.
But the refs, the goalies, Gregorio and Schulz—they were just a handful of the community that showed up Thursday night. Friends, husbands, partners, and children showed up in full force with handmade signs and flowers. We bore witness to baristas checking lifties into the boards. Gloves thrown in mocked attempts at fisticuffs. A mother, pushing a puck for the first time because she said her daughter had just started playing. She wanted to show her that “Mom can do new things, too.”
I’ve covered a few community events throughout my tenure at The Sheet—there are few I’ve seen that have been as supportive, or have grabbed from more corners of our town.
As Schulz pointed out at interview’s end, in a town like Mammoth, it’s hard to be a novice. We are home to Olympic skiers, world-class runners. Outdoorsmen of the highest degree. Lucky are we that get to pick up a new skill in life. Lucky are we that belong to a town that shows up for us, as we do it.
