My son Thomas is a veteran defenseman on the Kansas City Stars Squirt A team. This is his last year at the Squirt level (ages 8, 9 and 10). Next year he moves up to Peewees, which under USA Hockey rules, is the level players are finally allowed to check.

Most kids lick their chops at the opportunity to crush an opponent into the unforgiving boards. But Thomas has relied on his skating and stick handling rather than using his body to protect his goalie.

In four years of play, he’s had only three penalties, and two of those were bad calls by the refs, if you don’t mind me saying.

At the beginning of the season my wife Julie and I asked Thomas’ coach just one thing: Please make sure Thomas is prepared for the physical play of Peewees.

“No problem,” said Coach Jeff Madill. Make that Coach Jeff “Mad Dog” Madill, a burley Canadian who spits words out as if they were machine gun bullets.

Madill played 13 years of professional hockey, including a stint with the New Jersey Devils in the National Hockey League. He earned the nickname “Mad Dog”; in his last game as a professional, he collected 21 penalty minutes. A pro game is only 60 minutes long.

Coach said he would teach Thomas skills that would allow him to use his body – within the rules – to keep opponents away from the goal.

It’s working. Thomas is lifting sticks, nudging forwards out of the goal crease and grinding it out in the corners like never before.

The other day at practice he dove in front of a player taking a shot, blocking the puck with his chest. Before he would turn away from a shot like that.

I was impressed.

But we’re still holding off on a ferocious nickname for our little defenseman.