How Connor McDavid’s mom Kelly kept her young son grounded so he could achieve greatness

Hockey Moms: The Heart of the Game features untold stories of the highs and lows from the women who raised hockey players including Kelly McDavid, mother of NHL superstar Connor McDavid. This excerpt is from the chapter “Raising the best.”

When Connor turned six, his parents applied to have him join a competitive team for kids who were one year older. Hockey organizations everywhere face this dilemma with dread. Often the application comes from parents who wrongly believe their kid is special. Anyone who saw a young Connor McDavid could see he was different from all the other kids, but it didn’t matter. The answer came back no; rules are rules. The McDavids were told if Connor joined competitive hockey a year early, a seven-year-old would lose his chance to play higher-level hockey.

“We understood. But how do you continue developing them when they are so good?” was Kelly’s concern. The McDavids found a compromise in a neighbouring league. Connor would still play house league, but with nine-year-olds. He was that good.

For Kelly and Brian, it was a tough decision. How do you give Connor the best opportunity to develop his obvious gifts without putting him in a situation that could hurt him in other areas? His hockey skills were certainly there. He was still the best player on the ice. When his team needed a goal, he was called on to score it. It put a lot of pressure on a young boy who was trying to fit in with boys who were three years older. Connor was feeling the pressure.

“It was a tough year,” Kelly says matter-of-factly. Kelly did her best to keep the big picture in sight. What she saw in Connor was a young boy capable of so much, and wanting so much, who needed a reset. He had talent. He had passion. But dominating against older kids who simply didn’t have his talent or drive wasn’t the best fit.

“What do you want from this?” Kelly asked Connor one day as her son sat on the living room floor, oozing with frustration. For Connor it was an easy question to answer. Despite his youth, he had already set some lofty goals for himself. He wanted to play in the OHL as a 15-year-old. He wanted to win a Memorial Cup, then become a first overall draft pick in the NHL. He wanted to win a Stanley Cup, then be named to the Hockey Hall of Fame. To meet these targets, Connor knew he had to play against better players. He wanted to play competitive hockey as soon as humanly possible.

Kelly spent a lifetime in HR and understood how to motivate people. She could see that Connor responded well to specific goals. To get Connor out of his funk that season, Kelly and Connor sat down and worked out a path to help him get to where he wanted to be. The two of them used a piece of paper and created a set of stairs with the dates of Connor’s games for the rest of the season on each step. At the top of the staircase was the ultimate goal for the year: joining a competitive AAA hockey team. That piece of paper, with the stairs carefully drawn, was taped inside a cupboard door where Connor could keep track of his progress. He’d come home from games and cross off a date on one of his stairs, climbing one step closer to where he wanted to be in his hockey career.

Many kids would balk at that kind of structure. Kelly says it was just what Connor needed. And it worked. “That’s when I realized he needed things broken down. He set massive goals. He wanted to play rep hockey. He wanted to play in the OHL as a 15-year-old. He wanted to be drafted into the NHL. He had all these grandiose dreams.”

After his final year of house league hockey ended, Connor McDavid tried out for a AAA team. He was seven years old and still one year younger than everyone else in the league. He made the team.

Brian McDavid knew hockey. Already he was seeing something that Kelly still refused to acknowledge: that their young son was special. She never wanted to become one of those parents who believe their child is the next great one. “Let’s not get excited,” she told her husband. “I have seen all these kids everybody talks about all the time. Where did they go? Nowhere. I was always of the mindset, let’s do this for fun. Let’s not get too excited about this.”

As Connor progressed to competitive hockey, other parents could see how good he was. He could fly on skates. He had a quick, powerful shot. He saw the game differently than other kids. The puck always seemed to find him, because he anticipated where it would be. Wayne Gretzky was like that, and Brian McDavid saw that same talent in his son. Adding to his skills was an unworldly drive that was part of Connor even from a young age. He never stopped working at his game. Being good was never going to cut it; Connor McDavid wanted greatness.

“He always wanted to go for it,” Kelly says. “That was his focus. He was very determined, and he was going to make it no matter what.”

Kelly had been spending much of her time looking after Cameron’s hockey needs while Brian cared for Connor. Often, they were in different rinks on the same night. Brian was clearly excited about Connor’s rare abilities. On a night off for Cameron, Kelly sat and watched Connor play and saw it—her son really was special. “I was like, ‘Oh my god, did everybody see that?’ I sort of had one of those ‘aha’ moments, like, he’s really good.” He was twelve years old. Kelly knew then that Connor had a real chance to live his dreams and make it in hockey.

With Brian keeping watch over Connor’s hockey development, Kelly was there for everything else in his life. She knew car rides were her best opportunity to make sure her son remained grounded. “How did I help him? I just support him. That’s it. I’m there for them. I support them. I’m constantly talking to him. That’s all we did as we drove to and from games and practices. We just talked. It’s just spending time with them and supporting them.”

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