PROVIDENCE, R.I. – From Thunder Bay, Ontario, to Regina, Saskatchewan; from Skalika, Slovakia, to Innisfall, Alberta, divergent paths converge here this weekend at the Frozen Four, NCAA hockey’s version of March Madness … or is that April Foolishness?

And from Vancouver to Veazie, Southie to South Windsor, one thing remains true about the game at all levels. It’s a fact that Mainers (even those who don’t know a puck from a duck) can relate to.

It’s this: This sport, perhaps more than any other, embraces – or tolerates – travel. We’re not talking about hop-on-the-bus, Gus, travel. We’re talking about car travel. Please-let-me-stay-awake-so-I-can-watch-my-kid-play travel. Draw a line from any small outdoor rink to the Providence Civic Center, and you can count on one thing: You can, (sorry, Pine Tree Staters) get there from here. And here from there.

Just ask any of the hundreds of Mainers who will flock here to watch today’s University of Maine vs. North Dakota national semifinal.

But that doesn’t mean it’s gonna be easy.

That’s why every hockey mom and dad has a story.

Like this: “My peewee and bantam years, my practices were an hour and a half away because our home rink burnt down when I was a kid.”

That’s UMaine senior captain Cory Larose. And here’s what that means: “Now a couple-hour drive is nothing,” Larose says, remembering all the early mornings and late nights, and the van that took him from here … to there … and back.

Yup, every hockey mom and dad have a story they could tell. And every hockey player ends up telling it.

Mom and dad, you see, aren’t here yet … they’re on the road.

Reimann and reason

So, you want a travel story, do ya? You want to know how crazy it gets out there in the hockey hinterlands, out on the road between Blaine (Minnesota, of course) and Billings (Montana)?

Just ask Tommy Reimann. He can tell you.

Reimann is a redshirt freshman for UMaine. A few years ago, when it came time to up his hockey stock, Reimann did what plenty of young players do: He hit the road himself and joined a Junior A squad.

Forget the fact that he lived in Blaine, and the Billings Bulls weren’t exactly a neighborhood team. He joined. Played three years. And guess what? Every time he turned around, there was his dad, Lloyd.

Now go look at a map. Find Blaine. Find Billings. Look at the key. Or let Reimann help you with the math.

“One thousand miles,” Reimann says. Round trip? “One way. He’d come out for three days, go home for one, take care of business.”

Repeat as necessary.

Eventually, the mileage even got to Lloyd. He quit driving. Not that he quit watching Tommy play. That wouldn’t be right, after all.

“He built a place in Billings,” Tommy says with a shake of his head.

It’s that kind of attitude that led to the exchange between Tommy and Lloyd after the Black Bears earned their berth in this weekend’s Frozen Four.

Before we start, you’ve got to realize that Tommy Reimann’s a bit of a ham, and in his versions of the conversation, his dad ends up sounding a lot like Popeye with a Minnesota accent.

“I said, `Dad, the Final Four’s in Providence,’ Tommy says. “He goes, `All right, I’ll get my car ready.’ ”

That’s Lloyd’s hockey-mobile, a Ford Probe with 275,000 “all hockey miles” on it.

“I go, `Whoa-whoa-whoa. Dad-dad-dad. You can’t drive out here,”‘ Reiman says, rapid-fire, staccato.

“He’s kind of flighty,” Tommy says. “He said, `No, I can drive. I can drive.”‘

In the end, Lloyd gave in. But it took some convincing.

“I’m splurging,” Tommy says Lloyd told him. “I’m gonna fly.”

Then, the punchline: “You’d better play good.”

For the family of teammate A.J. Begg, driving wasn’t an option. Vancouver, British Columbia, is on the West Coast, and even with a week off between the quarterfinals and the semis, Providence is a bit more than a day trip.

Begg says parents, Joan and Mike, are quiet, passive fans when they get to the rink. Mike pays more attention to the inner workings, watching the bench.

But that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t get to more games if they could.

They are, after all, hockey parents.

“I played junior hockey three years before this. We played 80 games a season and they went to every one,” Begg says proudly. “There was from four to 10 hours travel and they went to every game.”

For sophomore Niko Dimitrakos, a weekend series is always a family affair, and he expects from 20 to 30 relatives and friends to get their hands on tickets for Thursday’s game. Travel’s part of their hockey life.

“We have a ’97 Volvo that’s over 150,000 miles in three years. It’s pretty ridiculous,” Niko says. “Boston to Orono and back, 600 miles a whack right there.”

Brendan Walsh, the Black Bears’ well-traveled fifth-year senior from Boston, can relate to that kind of commitment.

His mother, Connie, travels extensively in her job, has still only missed “three or four” games. And dad, Mike? “He hasn’t missed a one,” Walsh says.

Connie’s traveling in from far-flung cities is common for Brendan Walsh by now, but one trip – a 1996 doozie during his Boston University stint – stands out.

“I remember one time they flew from Thailand back to Boston to catch a game. They were vacationing but they cut it a day short just to come back,” he says.

Just another day. Just another road trip.

Getting there’s half the fun… then there’s the game

While hockey parents are willing to spend hour after mind-numbing hour traveling to see their sons play, they do find a way to shake off the long drive when they finally reach the rink.

It’s what all the miles are about. And don’t think their sons aren’t aware what happens when their parents cut loose.

“My mom’s nuts,” Larose says, as politely as possible. “She really is. I think I hear her voice over everybody else in the rink. And my dad likes to sit and listen to the game on the radio, to try to get that kind of insight into the game.”

That leads to an interesting situation, whereby Charlene and Wes don’t even sit next to each other when the game’s going on. And it gets worse.

“When my brother and sister come down for games, they have to move away from mom and dad so that they can concentrate on the game instead of being distracted,” Larose says.

That situation accurately describes Emmanuil and Maria Dimitrakos, too, son Niko says.

“My dad’s more the quiet type. He sits there and keeps it inside,” Niko says before sharing the family’s dark secret. “My mom’s more the vocal, loud, kind of obnoxious fan that you don’t want to sit next to. I’ve got a couple aunts that are pretty rowdy, too, when the game gets intense.”

Niko says that in the final analysis, Emmanuil would probably be happier elsewhere, except for one thing: his son’s playing.

“My dad loves sports. He loves hockey. He’s more of the guy who would rather stay home, sit by the TV and have a couple beers by himself. He really doesn’t like going to the games. He thinks it’s a hassle,” Niko says.

But that’s not going to happen. That’s not the way it works.

“He hasn’t missed a game in the last two years,” Niko says. “They go everywhere we go.”

And there’s always another trip.