But you had better find a way to bring your B game.
We’ve spent this week breaking down the three biggest lessons I learned over a lifetime of chasing the hockey dream.
Those lessons came from two years of junior hockey, including making the jump from Tier III to the USHL, four years of Division I hockey at UMass Lowell, over 500 professional games, and a decade-long pro career that eventually took me all the way to the NHL.
But I can’t take full credit for any of them.
I learned by watching the great players around me.
I learned from veteran professionals who showed me how to carry myself, coaches who demanded more from me, teammates who held me accountable, and a few hard thumps along the way.
On Monday, we talked about resilience.
The players who build long careers are the ones who refuse to go away quietly. They keep showing up, win or lose, rain or shine, ready to bring their best again.
On Wednesday, we talked about making yourself valuable.
Become the complete package. Help your team on the ice, inside the locker room, around the community, and in every interaction with your teammates and coaches.
Raise your stock until you become the kind of player an organization doesn’t want to lose.
Today, we finish with the trait that ties everything together:
Mindset.
I struggled with my mindset throughout my career, especially during my first couple of years in college.
One weekend, I could play lights-out hockey at the University of New Hampshire in front of 5,000 fans, with the game televised across New England.
I would battle, make plays, and feel like one of the best players on the ice.
Then the following weekend, I might be minus-three and wonder where that player had gone.
I knew I was capable of playing great hockey.
My problem was that I couldn’t consistently access it.
For too long, I would enter a game wondering how I was going to feel.
Do I have it tonight?
Will my legs feel good?
Am I going to play well?
That sounds harmless, but it’s a mindset built on doubt.
You’re waiting for the game to tell you who you’re going to be instead of deciding who you’re going to be before the puck drops.
Years later, while playing for Bruce Cassidy with the Providence Bruins, he gave me a piece of advice I’ve never forgotten.
Bruce was a demanding coach who would eventually go on to become a Stanley Cup champion.
He told me:
“Bobby, you don’t have to bring your A game every night. But you better bring your B game.”
That changed the way I looked at consistency.
Some nights, everything is going to click.
Your legs will feel powerful. The puck will follow you around the ice. You’ll see plays before they happen.
That’s your A game.
But you won’t feel that way every night.
Some days you’ll be tired. Your timing might be off. The puck might bounce over your stick, and nothing will come easily.
That doesn’t give you permission to disappear.
Great players find a way to bring their B game.
Maybe you simplify.
You finish every check.
You win your battles.
You block a shot, make the safe play, communicate from the bench, and refuse to become a liability.
You may not dominate the game, but you still help your team win.
Because if your A game disappears and your B game disappears with it, someone else will eventually take your spot.
Consistency doesn’t mean playing perfectly every night.
It means establishing a standard beneath which you refuse to fall.
That standard begins in your mind.
Don’t enter the rink hoping you’ll play well.
Decide that you’re going to be excellent.
And on the nights when excellence doesn’t look spectacular, find another way to contribute.
When you combine that mindset with resilience and value, you become a formidable hockey player.
You keep showing up.
You make everyone around you better.
And you refuse to let one bad shift, one bad game, or one difficult season determine where your journey ends.
That same mentality applies to your training.
Every off-ice session won’t feel amazing. Some days you’ll be sharp, motivated, and locked in. Other days, you’ll feel sluggish and distracted.
Do the work anyway.
Grab your Wraparound and Puckaround, get onto the driveway, concrete, or training surface, and put in your repetitions.
Get your Wraparound training gear and start putting in the extra work.
The Wraparound protects your stick while the Puckaround gives you the realistic weight and feel of an ice hockey puck, helping you improve your hands away from the rink.
One training session won’t transform your game.
But tiny improvements, repeated consistently over weeks, months, and years, can take you further than you ever imagined.
That’s the formula.
Be resilient.
Make yourself valuable.
Train your mind to bring it every single day.
I hope your hockey journey takes you as far as you’re willing to pursue it.
It’s a difficult road, but it’s a worthy one.
Knuckles up,
Bobby Robins, savage motivator, NHL Alum, Writer for Wraparound
P.S. You won’t have your best stuff every day. That’s okay. Your job is to build a standard that allows you to keep progressing—even when your A game stays home.