An indispensable guide to parents of hockey hopefuls At a time of great change in hockey, Justin Davis exposes the dark underbelly of the journey from the minors to the big leagues Hockey culture: it's a commonly used phrase inside the game, glorifying sacrifice, toughness, loyalty, and a sense of identity. Justin Davis viewed this culture as something he was lucky enough to experience. After all, he'd won a Memorial Cup after leading the tournament in scoring, and he'd been drafted by the Washington Capitals. "In my mind," he says, "I was the normal one." Unfortunately, after stepping outside the game, he began to recognize the racism, sexual abuse and bullying that was so deeply ingrained in the sport. And then, as his own children grew into teenagers, the curtain was pulled back, the memories came rushing forward, and he was horrified: "Why was I naked in a bus bathroom for four hours with seven teammates? What happened to my brain, and why can't I remember the simplest things? How did I end up living in a basement where the strangers upstairs were clearly engaged in domestic abuse?" As it navigates the sport's darkest corridors, Conflicted Scars shares the story of the common Canadian player and offers a guide for parents who need to know how and why a typical teenager with NHL dreams, from a small town, now lives anxiously, introvertedly, and battling emotional detachment. Our minor hockey system is rife with problems. But most hockey books don't represent the real story of the journey from novice to pro. Justin Davis has won at every level and provides the real scoop only a true hockey insider can. A married father of three from Guelph, ON, Justin Davis led the 1999 Memorial Cup in scoring and went on to Western University, where he was part of the 2002 University Cup-winning team. After a two-year stint playing professionally in Germany, Justin retired from hockey and is currently a player mentor and chapel leader with the OHL's Guelph Storm. You may have seen the cover of this book and asked yourself, why? Why would an "average" hockey player whose name barely registers with hockey fans write a book, and why would anyone bother to read it? Why would this player think that anyone would spend time reading his story when his entire hockey career is currently being overshadowed by his 16-year-old son? Well, it's complicated. The world of hockey has had a grand reawakening, and to quote the legendary Canadian hockey broadcaster, Bob Cole, "Everything is happening." Since 2020, a growing number of high-profile coaches have been fired because of past transgressions, and many more are secretly feeling the heat. I can guarantee you there are numerous behind-the-scenes apology tours happening as we speak, orchestrated by abusive coaches looking to maintain their place inside the game. But the dressing room doors have opened, and these predators can no longer hide behind their organizations. At the same time, junior hockey has had to address decades of hazing incidents, the research being done on CTE has been eye-opening for former players, and Don Cherry's firing has the NHL distancing itself from its storied past. Add Akim Aliu's letter addressing the systemic racism in the game, and one thing is certainly clear: hockey needs to get better. When Akim Aliu first told his story, my reaction was that he was soft. In my mind, he was a terrible team player and he sounded like an egotistical, cancerous presence. We all participated in the same initiations, we were all treated terribly by veteran players, and racism was just something that we normalized. I thought he was the issue; it was our job to conform to the norms of the hockey world. Varying from those norms, especially as a player of colour, was highly frowned upon. What's said in the room stays in the room, and it appeared to me that Akim was breaking the hockey code. I soon realized t

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