If Nate Mastrony got his wish today, he would be the youngest player in the NHL. He would play for the New York Rangers and take the number 18 away from Marc Staal. Nate would be the new starting right wing, win Rookie of the Year and Player of the Year, and send Martin St. Louis into retirement. He’d get the biggest contract in the NHL and never have to worry about money ever again. He and his dad would live in the nicest bachelor pad in New York City, and he’d buy his dad a fast car – maybe a helicopter, like the one his dad flew in Iraq. He could have unlimited sleepovers and stay up ’til the break of dawn playing floor hockey and drinking Capri-Sun with friends. At the end of Nate’s rookie year, the Rangers would win the Stanley Cup thanks to his game-winning goal in the final seconds. The lamp would light and the crowd would go crazy. Nate would be a superstar.

Nate Mastrony is 12 years old, stands four feet two inches, and weighs 70 pounds; doctors are concerned about his growth. A blue Minot hockey hat always hides his thin blond hair. He has a small face, skinny nose, blue eyes, and a mouth that can be heard from miles around. When he smiles, dimples appear, and his ears move up and down. Nate’s shirt size is a youth medium, and he always wears his favorite Harvard hockey T-shirt.

Nate has had many challenges in his life. When he was born, he was given growth hormones because his doctors were afraid that he was too small to survive. When Nate was nine and living in North Dakota, all of his belongings were destroyed in a flood. He was sad about losing his toys, but he was even sadder about losing his beloved hockey equipment. He decided to collect cans and eventually earned enough money to buy new equipment.

Then, when Nate was 10, his mom left his family and moved to Detroit. His father, Paul, was granted full custody. Paul was an officer in the Air Force, stationed at the Minot, North Dakota, air base where he and Nate lived in a small house.

“The house was full of hockey equipment and other basic necessities, but it was missing the most important thing,” Nate told me.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“My family. Ever since my mom left, it [was] only me and my dad. I missed my grandparents and cousins.”

When you first meet Nate and Paul, you can tell how close they are. For Halloween Nate dressed up as his dad; he wore an old Yankees hat and his Minot hockey jacket, the same one his dad has. You may wonder why someone so small loves a physical sport like hockey. The answer is simple: to be like his dad. While serving his country, Paul also played minor league hockey, but the military’s demanding schedule forced him to give it up. As one of Nate’s hockey coaches, he taught Nate everything he knows. Nate plays with the same fast-paced style as his dad.

Thanks to having a dad in the military and playing on a premier hockey team, Nate has traveled the hockey world from Canada to Texas, from California to New York, and everywhere in between.

“What’s your favorite movie to watch on a long car ride?” I asked.

“‘Miracle,’” he told me.

“How about your favorite food for a long hockey trip?”

“A box of chocolate chip cookies.”

“Aren’t you afraid of getting fat?”

“Nope. I’ll just skate it off.”

Nate and Paul lived in North Dakota until Nate was 11. Paul decided to retire from the Air Force and move back to his hometown of Stratford, Connecticut, where Nate’s grandparents, aunt, uncle, and cousins live.

Moving is hard, but it’s especially hard when you move to a new town three days into the school year and don’t know anyone. At the local school, Nate became the new kid. It’s easy to get picked on when you are new to a school, especially when you are small. “I can’t lift weights because I haven’t hit puberty yet,” Nate told me. “It doesn’t matter, though, because hockey made me tough.”

Not only is Nate the new kid in school, he is also the new kid on the hockey team. I went to one of Nate’s first games and could tell he misses having his dad as the coach. Instead of looking at his new coach for advice, Nate would look at his dad in the bleachers.

Another challenge Nate faces today is Spanish class. “Why do you think you’re failing Spanish?” I asked.

“Because I just moved from North Dakota! There are no Mexicans in North Dakota,” he said jokingly.

When I went over to Nate’s house, I noticed he’d put a yellow Post-It on his desk that said “Necesito jugar hockey,” which means “I need to play hockey.” That Post-It is a reminder that he needs to keep his grades up to play.

Through all of his challenges Nate always turns to hockey. When I asked him why he loves it so much, he gave me an answer that was wiser than his years. “I can escape completely. When I play, it’s just me and the ice. The best feeling in the world is skating through a defense and scoring when the whole game they are trash-talking about my size. When I score, [people] forget that I am small. All that they think is, Damn, this kid is good.”

In hockey, every time a goal is scored, a red lamp lights up. For Nate, scoring a goal isn’t just a stat, it’s a statement. Being the smallest and youngest kid on a team isn’t easy, but also being one of the best players on the team is extremely hard. The last thing Nate hears before every game is his dad yelling from the bleachers, “Go light the lamp, Nate!”