The Mag's Anne Marie Cruz trekked onto the ice at the Flyers' holiday party. She wound up with quite a little scoop.

The First Union Center ice was still bloody from Jersey and Philly smacking the bejeezus out of each other the night before. So maybe it was better that the Flyers held their holiday skate party at the Spectrum. "Feed the World" and other lite FM X-mas hits crackled through the PA as players pulled their kids around on toboggans. Daughters clamped onto dads' shoulders and squealed with the rush of velocity. Older boys -- wearing jerseys of conspicuously-absent Flyers Lindros and LeClair -- practiced their shots. A greasy-haired Santa waved genially as families piled into his red sled for pictures.

Eric Desjardins idly tapped a puck from skate to skate -- picking up speed -- and then kicked it into an imaginary goal along the dasher. I stood along the red line with team doc Michael Weinik as Desjardins glided back toward his family. Weinik pointed at Eric's son, Jakob.

"Look at him, he's only two and a half," Weinik said, as if even he couldn't quite believe what he was saying. "He's a natural."

Jakob was standing on skates, steadied and upright, a stick resting comfortably in his black hockey gloves. His corduroyed-bottom was crusted with ice, and his head was engulfed by a helmet with a sturdy face mask. He blinked, unafraid. Every now and then, Jakob would fall backwards, but he didn't cry. He simply picked himself up and waited for his parents to hand him his stick back, unaware that balance was supposed to be an issue.

I snuck in for a closer look. Brian Boucher and Simon Gagne watched as Eric lightly kicked pucks to his son. Everyone paused expectantly.

Jakob leaned forward like LeClair cemented in the slot during a power play. He met each puck with his blade, swatting it softly away. Automatic. His blank expression never changed. His All-Star dad beamed at him -- all eight fake front teeth gleaming.

A couple of the other players' wives flanked Jakob's mom, Manon. Bits of the conversation floated by my ears.

"...looks great..."

"...walks around the house with skates on..."

"...first time..."

Excuse me? I sidled up to Manon. "Uh, this is his first time on the ice?"

"Yeah," she said, glowing.

Oh. My. God.

Where's Merv Griffin when you need him?

Anne Marie Cruz writes for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail her at anne.marie.cruz@espnmag.com.