Four Paralympic Golds and One Dream Still in Progress for Kevin McKee

When Kevin McKee was eight years old, his mom spotted a flyer at his sister's figure skating practice advertising a local sled hockey club, signed him up on a whim, and unknowingly set the course for his next three decades.

He was born with sacral agenesis, a rare congenital condition that impaired the development of his lower spine, and the moment he climbed into a sled for the first time, something clicked.

What It Actually Means to Be a Pro

Sixteen seasons on the U.S. national sled hockey team and four Paralympic gold medals has a way of building perspective. 

"The last four years, I’ve really been there to mentor guys and try to teach them the way we've been doing things…basically how to act like a pro."

What that means in practice is more specific than it sounds, because McKee has seen firsthand what happens when younger players misread the room. He tells a story about a player who lost his composure on the bench after his line didn't get a power play.

"He's all frustrated and mad, and I'm like, hey, it's part of the game. And I told him, I know you can be upset, but just don't show it."

Beyond attitude, the gym is where McKee says a lot of newer players get caught off-guard, coming up through club programs where skating was everything and the weight room was an afterthought.

"Once you get to the national team, you have to be in the gym too. A younger guy, I might take him and be like, hey, you want to come work out with me? If you have questions, just ask."

Being on the national team is a privilege he's never taken lightly, even when the competitive side of him wanted more ice time than his role allowed.

"They only take 17 guys, and I'm very fortunate to be on the team. Sled hockey is so deep in the United States, it's a really hard team to make year after year."

October in the Czech Republic

The 2025-26 season was one of the hardest of McKee's career, and it started thirty minutes into the first practice of an international trip to the Czech Republic when a routine collision went sideways.

He'd made the same hit hundreds of times. This one was different and McKee immediately knew something was wrong. Declan Farmer skated over and tried to help McKee pull the shield off his sled but couldn’t. The result? A broken femur and into the operating room for surgery within three hours. 

Four days later, McKee was on a plane home. Three days after that, he was in the gym.

"You don't need your lower body to play sled hockey, so I can still work out my upper body. They basically said, just don't stand on it, don't fall, don't be stupid."

At five weeks, he was back on the ice. At week nine, he was walking on crutches and had gone to skate with his club team in Chicago, where someone accidentally ran into him right where the plate was and his wife panicked from the stands. He kept going.

At his week ten appointment, he came clean to his doctor about all of it.

"Hey doc, I'm not gonna lie to you…I started walking a week ago, I went and played hockey, got hit, nothing happened, I feel perfectly fine."

His doctor, he said, paused and looked at him like a disappointed parent. 

"But then he said, go live your dream, I hope you make the team.” 

In January, three roster spots opened for five players, with six practices to prove their case before the final decision on January 15th. McKee made the team, and found out afterward that his teammates had assumed all along he was coming back. The coaches were simply waiting on medical clearance to make it official.

"I wish I would have known, because it was the most stressed I've ever been in a long time in hockey.”

The Other Half of the Story

Kevin McKee met his wife, Erica McKee, through sled hockey. They were teammates on the junior team and in a lot of ways, the sport has shaped their relationship. 

Erica is the captain of the U.S. women's sled hockey team, and she has been building, fighting for, and refusing to give up on a women's Paralympic division since 2009, when she showed up to try out for the men's national team — good enough to make it — and was called into the coach's office before tryouts even started.

"The coach and the GM basically told her she can't make the team because she's a female. And she came out crying."

The man running the junior program at the time told her that was wrong, promised to help her build something, and that conversation started the U.S. women's program. Seventeen years later, Erica is still fighting for a Paralympic berth, and Kevin has four gold medals.

"I’ve been to four Paralympic Games. I'm basically living her dream. She's been nothing but supportive, but it’s tough when women’s sled hockey haven’t gotten the same opportunities.”  

The IPC requires eight competing countries before it will create a women's division, which means the path forward begins with countries finding the funding to build out a national team.  

"You gotta get these other countries to, one, get a female that's disabled…which is tough population-wise in some countries…and then get them to want to play sled hockey."

In Milan, Erica went simply to watch her husband compete in his fourth Games, and got pulled without warning into a panel that delivered a sobering update: if women's sled hockey can't field six countries for a 2027 World Championship, the door to the 2030 Paralympics closes entirely. 

Since the Games, Kevin has been working tirelessly to help his wife’s Paralympic dream come to life. 

"I have faith in USA Hockey. They want it to happen, and I think they’re actively pushing to help find a solution.” 

Milano Cortina 2026 was celebrated as the most gender-balanced Olympic and Paralympic Winter Games in history. And in many ways, it was. But two women's sports still weren't there — Nordic combined and sled hockey. Kevin McKee knows that story better than most, because he's watched it up close for seventeen years.

"It seems like there’s always another barrier, and it's so tough to watch."

For Kevin McKee, a barrier has never been a reason to stop but rather motivation to find a path forward. After seventeen years of watching Erika operate the exact same way, it's safe to say this mentality was developed on ice.

ABOUT THIS SERIES

I'm Amy Wotovich and I am on a mission to interview 100% of Team USA's 2026 Olympic and Paralympic athletes to create the most comprehensive mindset record of a single Games cycle. What do elite competitors actually believe about pressure, identity, failure, and joy? Kevin McKee is one of hundreds of athletes sharing their unfiltered answers. Follow the journey!