Capitals to honor youth hockey players, HBCU coach at Black History Night

Duante Abercrombie should be used to being the elder statesman, since he’s the first coach of a historically black college hockey team at Tennessee State.

But coming back to the District to perform a ceremonial puck drop for the Washington Capitals has a way of bringing youth to the forefront.

Abercrombie will be joined by two Black hockey players — teenagers Keivonn Woodard and Luc Zeigler-Najar — for the event at Friday’s Capitals game against the Vegas Golden Knights as part of Black History Night.

The festivities are the latest in a decades-long line of inclusion efforts for the Capitals.

“It’s funny to see myself go from being in Keivonn’s shoes as a younger hockey player, and now you can call me an elder statesman,” Abercrombie told The Washington Times.

The D.C. native picked up the sport at a young age, working under legendary coach Neal Henderson at the Fort Dupont Ice Arena in the early 1990s.

“I see the montage happening in my head now,” Abercrombie said.

His mother encouraged her two sons to try an array of sports — gymnastics, skating, swimming. But hockey was the one that stuck.

“I was just glued to the glass,” the player-turned-coach said of his first exposure to the sport. “I was hooked from day 1. I loved everything about it: the speed and that feeling in your chest that you get when all that cold air is coming in. It was exhilarating.”

Decades later, Woodard and Ziegler-Najar would feel the same draw.

“I love the speed, the strategy and the teamwork. Hockey is intense and physical, but it also requires focus and discipline,” Woodard, who earned an Emmy nomination for his role on HBO’s “The Last of Us,” wrote in an email to The Times. “As a deaf athlete, I also love how the game is so visual. I read the ice, watch movement, stay locked in.”

The allure of hockey has been constant, but the sport’s attitude toward diversity is still evolving.

Hockey wasn’t a particularly diverse sport when Abercrombie picked it up three decades ago. Willie O’Ree broke the NHL’s color barrier in 1957, but the next Black pros wouldn’t arrive until 1974, when the Capitals signed Mike Marson and Bill Riley for their inaugural season.

White players still represent more than 90% of the skaters on NHL rosters.

“There’s the very obvious cost barrier there,” Abercrombie said. “It costs a lot to be able to rent ice, so the traditional ways of experiencing the sport aren’t available to many people.”

That’s why the Capitals host programs like last weekend’s Rising Stars Academy clinic, where 30 minority players worked with current NHLers like Ryan Leonard and Justin Sourdif on their skills.

Those connections matter.

Abercrombie remembers watching Capitals games when their arena was still known as the MCI Center. The franchise invited his youth hockey teams to games.

“I remember being all the way up top in the 400s section, just happy to be in this building and experiencing the Caps in person,” he said.

Black players — and their families — can be systematically disadvantaged as they enter the sport. The cost is equal, but some communities have more resources and programs that help players gain gear, coaching and time on the ice.

Many predominantly Black communities lack the generational support that many largely White areas have.

When Abercrombie played high school hockey at Gonzaga, there were concerns that his playing time was being unfairly limited. But his single mother wasn’t comfortable enough to voice her worries to the coaching staff. She didn’t have the community support or hockey background to fall back on.

“She probably felt like she was on an island. She said that since then, seeing the growth in the game and initiatives like the Rising Stars Academy, she would feel much more confident advocating for her child,” he said. “It just gives you the confidence that, yes, you do belong here.”

Now, 30 years later, Woodard has always felt welcome on the rink.

“The hockey community has been very supportive. My teammates, coaches and families treat me like any other player,” he said. “They make sure communication is clear, and they respect my deaf identity. I feel included, valued and loved.”

That level of support wasn’t always a given.

“It’s been leaps and bounds. You can feel the difference around the game,” Abercrombie said. “It’s much better now than when I found it back in the early ’90s.”

Woodard, 13, is an actor now. But when he’s not working or playing a handful of other sports, he dreams of being the NHL’s first deaf player.

His connection with the Capitals has encouraged him to dream big. The chance to join players on the ice for a puck drop is only the latest gesture.

“They’ve shown that inclusion matters. The Capitals helped sponsor light signals so I can see when the whistle blows. They also provide [American Sign Language] interpreters for practices, games and camps,” he said. “That support makes me feel included, and it shows that representation and access make a difference.”

Diversity is crucial for players like Woodard, who haven’t always been well-represented at the NHL level.

Though the Capitals’ social media posts still receive comments asking about “White History Month,” organizers urge fans to think bigger. Inclusivity is about growing the game.

“Growth doesn’t mean exclusion. Things will change, but it’s just like a muscle,” said Abercrombie, who serves on the Capitals’ Black Hockey Committee. “It’s growing so that there’s more strength, more volume. This game has the potential to grow, and that’s not easy for a lot of people.”

Friday’s celebration — as Abercrombie takes the ice with Woodard and Ziegler-Najar — presents a full-circle moment for the trio of Capitals fans. Woodard and Ziegler-Najar still have dreams of playing for a team like the Capitals.

Abercrombie, whose playing career peaked with a handful of pro seasons in New Zealand, remembers being their age.

“It’s one of those things where you kind of pinch yourself, but it doesn’t surprise me,” he said. “The Capitals have been doing the work in the community and putting themselves out there as supporters of diversity for decades.”

Woodard doesn’t need the firsthand history to appreciate the gravity of Friday’s honor.

“It’s a moment I’ll never forget,” he said.