This is a two-part mini-series covering the Summit League and Josh Fenton. You can find the first part here.
Hockey is in Josh Fenton’s blood … but so are sports.
It’s also in his backyard.
Yes, the unassuming man behind The Summit League has built an outdoor ice rink behind his home, carving out time after long days in the office or on member campuses to coach his kids, (this year he finds himself coaching his middle son’s 14U team) and stay connected to the sport that shaped who he is today. It does not officially have a name, but for the purposes of this story, we’re calling it “Fenton Rink.”
“Every winter I try something new to keep improving on it,” Fenton said, chuckling. “It has become a fun side hobby, and I’ve learned a lot about slope, water, wind, ice, and even what works and doesn’t in my own backyard. Physics and Mother Nature always win!”
He even says other conference leaders now know about it and ask for updates periodically on Fenton Rink.
There’s something fitting about it. The rink is equal parts passion project and problem-solving lab, which is also a fair description of Fenton’s career. He is a commissioner now, but his story is not a straight climb. It’s a series of pivots, risks, and learn-as-you-go experiences that gradually prepared him to lead conferences in an industry that rarely (if ever) slows down.
So how does a former volunteer assistant hockey coach end up commissioner of The Summit League?
“That was never really the plan,” Fenton admitted. “But as the opportunities presented itself, it all kind of fell into place.”
Hockey Built Leader
Fenton grew up in central Minnesota, where hockey is woven into daily life. For those that know, you do not casually play hockey in that state. You live it. It’s part of the DNA. The early mornings, the cold drives, a community-first culture around the rink. That identity stayed with him, even as his college path took a few turns.
His path to college came through golf, spending a year at Texas Lutheran University on the men’s golf team before transferring to Iowa State. The move south, followed by the return to the Midwest, gave him an early perspective. The collegiate playing career didn’t unfold the way he once imagined (finishing after his sophomore year), but it sharpened his understanding of athletics as an ecosystem with teams, departments, leadership. and culture.
After Iowa State, he spent about 18 months in private industry. The job was stable and paid well, but something was missing. Fenton felt it daily.
He wanted to coach.
That decision marked the first real pivot.
The Letters And The Leap
Fenton did not play college hockey, which matters in a sport where pipelines are often rigid and difficult to navigate. Breaking into coaching at a high level without a playing background at that level is difficult for any sport. Sometimes it happens, but rarely quickly.
So he sent letters. A lot of them to multiple Division I men’s hockey programs across the country, searching for a volunteer assistant or graduate role.
Most went unanswered. One did not.
Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, offered him a chance. Fenton left his job, packed up, and drove to a place he had never lived, betting on himself without any guarantee it would even work.
At Miami, he joined a graduate-level program in sport behavior and performance, which served as his entry point into the hockey program. He spent two years as a volunteer assistant coach, immersed in video analysis at a time when technology was shifting from VHS tapes to digital platforms.
That work mattered. The people who last in athletics administration are often the ones who solve problems before they are assigned. Video work required creativity, knowledge, and patience. Those skills translated.
A brief glimpse of what working at the highest level of the sport followed, working with the National Hockey League’s San Jose Sharks during the 2004 Stanley Cup playoffs as a Video Coach. Then the 2004-05 lockout erased a season — and a set of opportunities— overnight.
It turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
Learning The Business
Fenton started to realize coaching might not be his calling, and Miami created a hybrid role for him, splitting his time between hockey operations and corporate relations. It forced him to live in two worlds at once: the day-to-day grind of a team, and the revenue-driven realities of an athletic department.
That split shaped his mindset as an administrator. The sports side and the business side are not separate. Every decision has its downstream effects.
His career accelerated. Assistant athletic director roles evolved into associate positions overseeing external units such as marketing, ticketing, and licensing, before shifting toward internal operations involving finance and human resources.
He learned how budgets breathe and live in the landscape. How staffing decisions ripple. How presidents and boards evaluate strategy.
He also learned leadership up close, frequently crediting longtime Miami athletic director Brad Bates as a foundational influence on his beliefs about what college athletics is all about – creating experiences and opportunities for students who have a passion for sport.
Those roughly 11 years gave Fenton both breadth and credibility. He had lived in the details, not just approved them.
Building A Conference
As college hockey’s landscape shifted, so did conference structures. The creation of Big Ten hockey forced programs to rethink their futures. Miami was among those schools, and conversations began about building something new.
Fenton wasn’t just in the room. He was helping turn those conversations into a functioning conference. In the administrative structure, coordination, and early groundwork, he was involved in taking the idea from concept to reality.
When the National Collegiate Hockey Conference reached the point of hiring its first commissioner, Fenton interviewed.
He didn’t get the job.
The role went elsewhere. On paper, it made sense. It was also a reminder that even when you’re ready, timing still matters.
About 18 months later, the position reopened. This time, Fenton was the clear fit. He knew the league’s evolution as well as anyone because he had helped build it.
He became NCHC commissioner in 2013 and spent nine seasons leading the conference. A conference built from concept to reality that resulted in 5 national championships in those 9 years.
Why The Backyard Rink Matters
It would be easy to focus only on titles and accomplishments. But if you want to understand why Fenton’s leadership resonates, the backyard rink tells you more than a résumé.
It reflects his values: family, consistency, and patience. He likes concepts and bringing them to reality. He likes learning by doing. He can live in the details more than most, but is an excellent communicator. He understands that building something functional takes time and adjustment.
If you’ve ever tried to make ice hold together in real winter conditions, the lesson is clear. You don’t rush it. You fix what doesn’t work. You don’t control things outside of your control. You get better next time.
That approach carries into how he tries to lead people and leagues. He isn’t drawn to reaction. He’s drawn to structure.
The Long Way To The Summit
Fenton now leads The Summit League in a moment when college athletics is shifting fast. Realignment, governance questions, and financial pressures define the landscape.
His career has trained him for that reality. He’s been on campus. He’s built and led conferences. He’s managed both people and budgets. He understands how important consensus building and communicating are key to landing decisions in a conference office.
His wife, Lindsay, and their three sons remain central to how he defines success. When careers require movement and nights away, strong foundations matter.
Fenton’s path did not follow a straight line. It moved through unpaid roles, setbacks, and behind-the-scenes work that rarely draws attention.
“When I think about my professional path, it was never about what’s next,” he said. “It has always been about how I can contribute to the success of the institution or conference while impacting the experiences of young people. And as opportunities present themselves, the rest will take care of itself.”
At its core, his story isn’t about climbing a ladder. It’s about building something … a conference, a career, or an ice rink in the backyard so his kids can skate.
In an industry often driven by urgency, the long view may be exactly what makes Josh Fenton’s leadership resonate.
