Eat, drink and be merry! Oh, and watch some hockey.

So, how was everyone’s Christmas? Full of festive fun, yet barren and hockey-less? Mine was. It seemed for a while like I wouldn’t make it to this side of the silly season, but I got through, with the help of what I think equalled about two wheelbarrows full of chocolate and cheese, and clinging for dear life to anything vaguely hockey-related to try and keep myself sane. For example, just prior to Christmas they showed a decent fight from the NHL on Sky Sports News, Bruins against Thrashers, I think. So rare is their coverage of hockey of any kind, usually isolated to a few ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ results scrolling across the bottom of the screen, that I actually moved from the sofa onto the floor, to get a better view, and when the clip came on I started salivating and clapping like a seal. I even watched the repeat of it and wondered where the evil laughter was coming from, until I realised it was me. On Boxing Day morning I sat through a rare gem of a film entitled ‘Jack Frost’, despite it being desperate dross, just because the kid played hockey. Might I point out that this was a picture whose key plot device is a boy’s dead father being reincarnated as a snowman. A freaking snowman. I wish I was joking.

But after a painful Christmas-punctured hiatus of a whole 20 days, I finally got my hockey back (cue choir of angels sound effect). In the first of five matches to be played over the holiday season, in the space of seven days (can you imagine the reaction if footballers were asked to do that – Alex Ferguson would choke on his own pompous disbelief), we were taking on one of the in-form sides in the league, Hull Stingrays. I deemed myself to be a Very Important Person for the day (ie someone who had an extra £2.50 to spend in return for the opportunity to keep warm and paw hockey players at will – they really didn’t think the pricing structure through when any old psycho can get close enough to lick them. I must say I did have nightmarish visions of me, prostrate on the ground, curled around Mike Prpich's leg murmuring incoherently about facial hair whilst being dragged towards the exit – thankfully on the night I just stood in the corner drinking cider and swaying. Still, you never know. There's always next week).

Hull’s team bus suffered a puncture on the way to Whitley Bay so they arrived late, which threw me momentarily into confusion and regrettably allowed an extra half an hour of enjoying the VIP bar’s special brand of Christmas cheer (=Bulmer’s cider) prior to the match, but on the plus side, it did appear to have deflated the ‘Rays confidence somewhat, as they started the match sluggishly. (Do you see what I did there? Flat tyre? Deflated? Stay with me, I have every confidence the jokes will remain of a similarly sub-par quality. They may even get worse. I have had nothing but crackers for inspiration for the last week). Vipers took advantage of their unsettled opponents and scored three goals in the first period, the best of which was a well-taken individual effort from Whitley Warriors captain Adam Reynolds. We were always in the lead but by the first period break Hull had us pegged back to 3-2. The theme of losing the lead continued in the second period and we went into the period break with the score tied at a mouth-watering 4-4. However we reverted to type in the third, quickly going two down as arguably one of the league’s top forwards, Jereme Tendler, struck twice in a few minutes to seal his hat-trick, and to put the game to bed.

*BREATHE* I am totally getting there with the summaries and junk, right? Apologies for the lack of detail, but I was feeling a bit, well, festive, and some of the finer points of the match escaped my attention. I can tell you that a Hull player of unknown origin (postscript following footage review: it was Esders) was checked all the way to Rake Lane Hospital by John Schwarz, who seemed to be a bit of a moving target throughout the game, as he obviously had been in last week’s match against Sheffield also. He attracts the attention of some of the more aggressive guys on other teams, despite the fact that on the face of it, he doesn’t appear to be antagonising anyone. Unless he’s whispering ‘yo momma’ jokes in their ears. Just an occupational hazard I guess, when you’re the biggest/strongest guy in a team. He doesn't need to fight, anyway. He’s well 'ard, innit. I wouldn’t mess.

John Schwarz: 'Yo momma so fat, she on both sides of the family!'

Hair Loss Weekly: news update! I've had to expand my 'Mike Prpich Beard Watch' as there’s been a severe spate of hair loss that seems to have afflicted a number of Vipers over the Christmas period. Most notable in joining Prpich’s beard on the march for freedom was Patrik Forsbacka’s inimitable mullet, but also joining the Hair Exodus was Charlie Effinger’s beard. Unconfirmed rumours suggest that Danny Stewart may be tempting the various hair features to a secret location in order to construct a convincing toupe, as his ears are getting a bit cold in this arctic British winter (it’s basically tropical in Canada at this time of year by comparison), but to be honest the real truth can only be that the other players became jealous over the amount of attention I was paying to Mike Prpich and resorted to drastic moulting in a desperate bid to be name-checked on the Hockey Novice blog. I’m flattered guys, really. And you’ve got your wish – this time. I must say though, Prpich seems to be dealing best with his follically-challenged status (it must have been an amicable split), as he was the stand-out player on the night, for me. He seemed to be everywhere, always involved in the action, ditto Man of the Match Kyle Sibley and Skipper Danny - so good on them!

Hey, Hull dude! Mike Prpich is chasing you! Did you steal his beard, perchance?

So it’s my last post of 2010 and the New Year is upon us – out with the old and in with the new and all that, and it was nice to see Vipers starting early with the return fixture at Hull on Wednesday, when it was out with third period collapses, and in with away wins – our first of the season!! Good news as we have two more tough games on the road coming up in the next few days, before Whitley Bay sees the return of the Nottingham Panthers on Monday, which promises to be a feisty encounter. Let’s hope it’s out with no money and in with new owners very soon so we can enjoy the New Year in the knowledge that our club will be around for the rest of the season.

Phew. Thank goodness I scraped together enough material to fill a blog post there, and didn’t have to accurately recollect anything that actually happened in the game. Right. To quote a wrinkly and sweary TV chef, 2010 – done. It’s been a pleasure folks and I bid you farewell until, well, probably about this time next week, but it will be a whole new year so it feels somehow significant. Thanks for your support thus far, Happy New Year to one and all, and I’ll see you in the bar on Monday. I’ll be much more coherent this time. Or possibly not.

STOP PRESS: Since this post was originally penned, on Thursday 30th, Vipers continued with their storming run on the road, beating Belfast Giants in the Northern Irish capital. I will not elaborate on it as I wasn't there but I felt it necessary to acknowledge what an awesome achievement it was and congratulate the team on their success in the face of adversity. I'm a very proud Vipers fan indeed today and I dearly hope that someone, somewhere sits up and takes notice of the amazing spirit being shown by this group of individuals, despite the continued uncertainty surrounding the club. The New Year really deserves to be a good one, for all of them. And my New Year's resolution will be to win the lottery so I can rescue them from financial peril. Not that hard, right? Easier than going on a diet, I'm certain. Well done lads!

A Very Vipers Christmas

Forgive me Vipers, for I have sinned. It’s been 15 days since my last attendance and I have been unfaithful. I watched some football on the TV and cheered on my ‘other’ team (we won!). I went to another city to see some live music instead of going to Whitley Bay. I remembered why watching prog rock bands live is so much fun. And that gigs are warmer than ice hockey matches. I did my Christmas shopping. I spent time with my family and had in-depth discussions about decorating, and winter recipes. I basically came to remember what life was like before I met you. But don’t worry, I have more than made up for my indiscretions with the amount of time I have spent thinking about you, missing you and worrying for you. I watched the film ‘Slapshot’ in order to keep up my Iearning and actually picked up some pointers. And I am counting down the days until I see you again in true Advent style (except that on Christmas Eve there will still be 3 days to go. And there’s been no chocolate involved. Sadly. I would have enjoyed nibbling the legs off a chocolate John Schwarz. Maybe next year).

Mike Prpich Beard Watch: I have heard on the grapevine that it has secured its own visa and is now staying in an apartment over-looking the Tyne. I’m disappointed as I was hoping to sit on Mike’s knee and tell him what I wanted for Christmas but without that key ingredient, it just wouldn’t be the same.

In terms of what the Vipers want for Christmas, it’s very simple. And inspired by commentator and hockey enthusiast David Simms, the hockey community came out in force to give them lots of little Christmas presents, stocking-fillers if you will, in the form of tickets for last Saturday’s match against the Sheffield Steelers. Tickets for the game were bought from all over the country, by people with no intention of going to the game, but just doing their bit to support a club in its time of need. It was touching and hugely appreciated by everyone associated with the club, and meant that we could live to fight another day. Now we need the big one… the present under the tree that means we will be able to live to fight into 2011 and beyond. We’re still suspended in ‘watch this space’ mode at the moment, and I know I’m not alone in clicking on the Vipers website every morning hoping for some Christmas cheer. I have everything crossed. Everything, I tell you!

Impractical as his outfit may be for hockey refereeing, Santa loves a bit of it once his Christmas Day duties are complete.

I feel the need to share with you the slightly alarming realisation I came to the other day: I have recently surpassed the word count of my undergraduate dissertation – previously the longest thing I have ever written – writing about hockey. By about 4,000 words now, actually. Why wasn’t writing about Spanish Civil War poetry this easy? Is there some kind of qualification I can have please? To be honest I’m not sure if I should be rewarded or sectioned, having just spent the last twenty minutes trying to write a Vipers version of the Twelve Days of Christmas song summing up my highlights of the season so far, and coming up with the following. I’m not writing out the whole thing, so this will have to do you. Sing along now, my pretties:

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my Vipers gave to me:
One game-worn jersey,
A Danny Stewart slapshot
Ninja Rzeszutko
Sammy Zajac scrapping
Dale Mahovsky’s front teeth
Chewey Forsbacka
A Hartmanis hat-trick
PRPICH’S BEARD!
Great saves from Charlie
That Blaze win
Super Danny’s Dozen and…
11 goals against Dundee

Right, I’m keeping this short. As predicted, my hockey-related drivel has basically descended into foaming at the mouth, such are my withdrawal symptoms and the subsequent mental trauma. All will be remedied on Monday. That’s just 5 days away. There’s just the small matter of Christmas standing between me and a reunion with my Vipers. It’s but a mere trifle. (And roast potatoes, and Christmas pudding, and cheese and crackers…). A very Vipers Christmas to you all, and I look forward to seeing each and every one of you, all a little plumper I imagine, for our match against Hull Stingrays next week. Bring it on!

They tried to make me go to rehab...

When it dawned on me after the Dundee match that I would not be witnessing another live hockey match until after Christmas, I can’t deny that the panic started to set in. Exactly 20 days without hockey. Short of filling the intervening days with a series of bizarre and increasingly unhinged blog posts, I wasn’t sure quite how I would cope with the lack of hockey in my life. It was then I realised, what I think I had known already for a while but had been too afraid to admit to myself. But I’m ready to admit it to you now, in the hope that you can help me through what is inevitably going to be a difficult time in my life. Here goes.

My name is Katy, and I’m a hockey addict.

I’ve been watching hockey for just over two months, now. It started out small. Just one match, here and there, just a click or two on the Vipers website. A little dabbling in the NHL. A quick skim of the rules on the internet.

But then it got worse. I started thinking about hockey all the time. Even when I wasn’t at hockey, I wished I was. I met other people who liked hockey and that didn’t help, they just made me want more hockey. I watched hockey videos on the internet, at all hours of the day. I even watched hockey highlights first thing in the morning. When I couldn’t get hold of any hockey, I became nervous, unresponsive and difficult to be around. My motivation for anything other than hockey disappeared. I found myself unable to hold a sensible conversation that didn’t revolve around hockey. Mood swings? Check. I would go from being on the crest of a wave to anger and despair at the drop of a hat (or a puck). And my behaviour when deprived of my regular fix became increasingly unpredictable.

Take this Saturday just gone as an example. I was in exile, marooned in the south-east of England, hundreds of miles away from my beloved Vipers and about to miss the home match against Braehead Clan. With an aging laptop my only connection to the action, I felt fragile and out of place. I donned my ‘lucky’ jersey in the hope that, despite my absence, the good fortune which had been associated with it up to that point would continue.

And so I prepared to attempt to appease my craving with a less-than-potent combination of the EIHL live scores page, and the Vipers Hockey Facebook page, hoping that a commentary feed would be forthcoming. But like sticking an Elastoplast on an arterial bleed, it wasn’t really a suitable substitute. The withdrawal symptoms were kicking in. I DIDN’T have the shakes (because I was in a warm house rather than freezing my butt off at Whitley Bay Ice Rink). It felt all wrong. I was jittery. Just knowing that there was hockey going on, albeit 300-odd miles away, was satisfying my pining heart ever so slightly, but following a game through a live scores page... I can’t adequately describe how immensely frustrating it can be. Perhaps you’ve tried it before, perhaps not. In a way, it would be much healthier to just stay away from the laptop until well after the game is over and hence, there can be no doubt about the result. Ignorance is bliss and all that. There’s just something irrational and narcissistic about following the game live, as if little old you maybe, just maybe, might make a difference, if you want it hard enough. If you’ve not experienced the joys, it goes a little something like this:

Load page. Game has been going 2 minutes already. I can’t believe I let this happen. What if – oh poo. We’re losing already. That’s because I hadn’t loaded the page up yet. Inevitable feeling of guilt tinged with failure. I am a bad human being.

It’s funny how as sports fans, distance from the object of our affections is inversely proportional to the number of crazy superstitions we suddenly find solace in. The irony being that when we are in the position to offer the least support to our club (ie NOT in a live setting), we adopt the most bizarre paranoid behaviours in the deluded belief we might actually be helping in some way. Observe:

Click. We were two goals down. Nooooo! (I found this out on the Facebook page. Therefore this was deemed to be bad luck).

Let’s try the Elite League page instead. Click. We had pulled one back. YESSSS!! (This therefore instantly became good luck).

I know I’m not alone in holding these ridiculous superstitions, but perhaps I’m the first one ever to actually admit it in written form. Someone should probably put me in an over-sized petri dish and study me. I wondered if perhaps my lucky jersey was only lucky when it was physically AT Whitley Bay ice rink, with me in it. So I considered taking it off. I even briefly considered taking one arm out. Or wearing it back to front. But then decided I couldn’t make that kind of possibly game-altering decision without some other sign. The third period began.

Click. 2-2. The jersey stayed on.

Refresh. Watching through one eye, half-closed. No change! And as has become painfully clear, no news is good news as far as the Vipers are concerned. Oh wait... The timer hasn’t actually moved on since I last checked. The damn thing’s stuck.

Click. Oh here we go, the timer’s moved... We’ve conceded two more goals. Swearwords.

Two minutes later. Click. Braehead 30 – 12 Vipers?! Jesus H! What kind of monumental – oh wait, that’s just the shots on goal. It’s still only 4-2. Thank the lord.

Cuddles. Because hockey players need love too. And because, well, it's just nice, okay? Leave me alone!

We’ve not yet won a match when I’ve been following on live scores. So I’m pretending not to watch. Trying to fool it. Using the score card I try and recreate the action in my mind, to get a feel for the game, the penalties for example – number, offence, culprit (not many – everyone must be behaving themselves). And the shots on; they had a lot more than us, does that mean we’re backs-to-the-wall again? Charlie playing another blinder? I even had a little knuckle-chew to try and recreate those game-night nerves. I found myself idly wondering whether Mike Prpich’s beard had put in an appearance. I worried for a bit that my level of interest in the aforementioned face fuzz might have reached the point of obsession. I’m sure people have had harassment suits taken out against them for less. If only he’d just let me near enough with my ruler to make an accurate measurement... Restraining order for one, please!

And so I am forced to reflect on my dirty little habit, and all its fanciful nuances. I imagine the questions I might be asked, if I went for help. Do I want to quit hockey? Nope. Maybe cut down, just a little? Not really, thank you. I just need to learn to live with my addiction. And to learn that others around me are capable of enjoying the finer things in life in moderation, even if I am not. And to find humour in the fact that I am going cold turkey, at Christmas. So who out there can help me in my time of need? And by help, what I probably mean is, indulge me, or at least make me feel like I’m not alone. Because yes, I am a hockey addict; but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

In a galaxy far, far away…

A Tuesday night in December. Two degrees below zero. The nation, a frozen wasteland, still gripped by the stranglehold of arctic weather conditions, struggles to go about its daily business. Ravaged roads impassable, traffic at a standstill, yet still a band of dedicated individuals makes the pilgrimage to witness another instalment in the battle on ice. Filled with childlike hope they brave the elements to gather in the icy cold arena and play their part in resisting the marauding forces from north of the border.

My fingers have been literally itching to pour forth my thoughts on Tuesday night’s match against Dundee but I have been trying my best to rein them in. ‘Let the dust settle, Katy,’ I told myself. ‘No need to rush headlong into every match report as if what happened will no longer be true if you don’t write about it within 24 hours.’ It’s just that this time, I can’t actually believe it’s true in the first place.

Let’s try typing out the first few words and just see how they sound.

The Vipers were taking on Dundee Stars in a Challenge Cup Game. Hopes were high following our close call with them up in Dundee on Saturday. The game began. We went three goals up in the first minute and a half.

Haha, that’s a good one.

No, really.

Noooo.

Yes.

And it didn’t end there. Just like the first time I ever went to a hockey match, I was once again happy and confused. Only this time it wasn’t because I didn’t have a clue what was happening. The goals were going in so fast there was barely time to figure out who had scored before the next one was slotted away. Many a conspiracy theory was concocted as to how we could possibly be doing so well. It was posited that the size of the goal mouth had been covertly increased, or perhaps that a team of ringers had been put in to play whilst our team were put into cryogenic stasis to repair their battered and broken bodies. Or perhaps we had just crossed over into a parallel universe where our team scores for fun, and we went merrily barrelling towards a cricket score of a result.

More likely, a combination of it being a meaningless match for Dundee, due to their inability to progress in the Cup, and their subsequent decision to field some of their weaker players, along with the Vipers coming out all guns blazing – literally as if they hadn’t stopped moving since Sunday night’s victory – might more accurately explain our good fortune. That’s not to take anything away from the guys. Dundee still had their pride to play for; second string or not, these are still Elite League hockey players. Putting in their back-up net-minder may have seemed as though they were gift-wrapping the game for us, as we scythed open hole after hole in the hapless goalie’s defences, but there were still five other opposing players out there on the ice, and they weren’t just laying down.

And so the first period ended, and we were 7-1 up. Disbelief mingled with euphoria was the over-riding feeling; it was bit like being given some cake, AND being allowed to eat it (and as we all well know, those two things are mutually exclusive). I overheard one fan complain to another during the first period break, ‘it’s a bit one-sided, isn’t it?’ and I found myself smiling wryly at the irony. What we wouldn’t have given for it to be a bit one-sided just a few short weeks ago. The game continued to go our way in the second and third periods, albeit not in quite such a frantic manner, and we cruised to an 11-4 victory. Of course it lacked the drama of some of our previous encounters, but a big fat win is a big fat win, and not to be sniffed at.

This is a scoreboard. It tells no lies. (Photo courtesy of Dave Wright)

Struggling as we have been to produce enough in front of goal, tonight the Vipers forwards were unstoppable. It was hard to pick out a top performer, with Toms Hartmanis scoring a hat-trick, Prpich, Mahovsky and Rzeszutko all on a brace, and a pair of Jamies – Carroll and Tinsley – completing the score-card. Home debutante, Whitley Warriors captain Adam Reynolds, proved himself to be a canny signing, skating well, putting himself about a bit and getting stuck into the action. A promising start.

Mike Prpich Beard Watch: It’s still missing. The public are warned to stay vigilant.

The former purveyor of fine facial hair, despite his errant chin adornment, picked up man of the match, but it would have been hard to choose between them (what a nice position that is to be in!). However my man of the evening had to be Jaro Rzeszutko. The guy is an absolute ninja. His speed is frankly alarming and he pushes forward with the intensity of a starving cheetah on his way to a half price sale at the Wildebeest Warehouse. The goalie must have been soiling himself every time Jaro gained possession of the puck. He also did a little dance after one of his goals. Smooth. I love a good goal celebration, me.

To add to the tale of woe as far as our reduced squad numbers are concerned, John Schwarz was felled tonight by something or someone (in a mystery ‘off-the-puck’ incident – I’m still in the dark as to what it was) and he didn’t reappear after that; Dean Holland also went off early with an injury which meant we ended the match with just 11 skaters. Even less than on Sunday. I’m liking this new, slim-line version of the Vipers. Who needs 18 players anyway? It’s just unnecessary. Dead weight. I do feel a bit sorry for Danny Stewart though. He’s been playing out of position for weeks now and every time one defenceman returns from injury, we lose another. He must be cursing his luck (whilst becoming rather a good defenceman!).

I don’t know why but I’m struggling to say anything more about the game, and I’m not normally one to struggle with words. I think I'm failing the grasp the sheer enormity of the victory; it still feels no more real than a pleasant dream or a far-fetched fairytale. Maybe it’s because Dundee were gracious in defeat, and having made the effort to come down knowing how important the match was for the club, I can’t crow about our victory in the same way I would if we had beaten say, the Nottingham Panthers. Or maybe it’s because the uncertainty surrounding the club’s future persists in casting an ominous shadow even in our moments of glory. Regardless of what is going on off the ice, I can’t fail to comment on the players themselves, and how tight they seem to be as a unit, and what nice guys. They look happy to be in each other’s company, which is so good to see. It makes one feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

In reality, I’ve probably run out of things to say because I’m not used to all this winning. It’s tiring me out. I think I’m going to have a nice lie down and try to dream up some new ways of saying ‘we were awesome’ before the weekend. Here’s hoping I’ll need them!

Blaze of Glory

Today’s mission – to be brief. As we have another match tomorrow against Dundee, and this match deserves its own post. Being brief, hmm. I’ve heard tell of such a fable in passing but like the holy grail, I don’t think I’ve ever believed it to be attainable. Will it be? Who can say. Probably not considering I have spent the last 3 lines musing over the meaning of being brief. Anyway… Apologies for the rather cheesy title, I realise it’s probably been used by Coventry’s media team a thousand times but hey, what the hell, I’ve cheekily decided to borrow it. For anyone who’s been trapped in a hockey-less bubble and doesn’t want to know the result of last night’s game, well, I would say look away now but I think it’s too late for that, I might have given the game away. Oops!

If there were a Vipers advent calendar, we would barely have enough skaters to fill half the boxes. But what joy would be found behind door number 5. Only 12 players and two goalkeepers were available for tonight’s match, following various departures and injuries, and only three of them were defencemen by trade. Perilous times, or so you would think. Following Saturday’s heart-break in Dundee (a phrase which I have never used before in any context, let alone a sporting one, and hope never to have to use again!) in which we lost in a shoot-out following a 4-4 tied score with the Stars, hopes were high for a reprieve on home soil. Er, ice.

I can’t fail to mention that whilst we were being unlucky in Dundee, all manner of exciting things were going on at the SkyDome Arena in Coventry, as the season’s first bench clearance occurred. Now, contrary to what you might believe if you, like myself, are new to the sport of ice hockey, this didn’t mean a sale at the local DIY emporium. It is in fact an astonishingly mild term for a mass brawl. It was all very exciting, and ended with a topless Alex Penner doing a powerslide across the ice on one knee after being de-robed by a Blaze player. Ex-weapon or no, I’m starting to warm to the guy. I think I'll file him in the box marked love/hate. It also meant that Blaze’s Brad Cruikshank was suspended for the match against us, and although their bench still looked a lot busier than our depleted one, we’ll take what we can get!

Last time we played Coventry, it was only the second game of my fledgling ice hockey career. I was young and inexperienced, wide-eyed and green, Blair Stayzer still played for us and well, we got soundly thrashed. Now a seasoned pro (er, excuse me, stop laughing please), I was hoping we could turn the tables on our opponents, and that this time I would know what was going on. The game started out quietly; last night’s violent exertions must have taken their toll on Coventry, and our boys looked fatigued from their return journey to the wilds of eastern Scotland. The first period lacked something in the way of, well, anything really, and there was not a great deal to excite the hardcore faithful, also depleted in numbers due to the adverse weather conditions.

WE INTERRUPT THIS BLOG POST TO BRING YOU AN IMPORTANT NEWSFLASH! I was quite distressed to learn that in addition to a couple of players leaving, and a couple more suffering injuries, the team had experienced a loss of a much more disturbing nature. Mike Prpich’s beard appeared to have gone missing since it was last spotted during the Drive for Five weekend. Quite where it has gone remains a mystery, but luckily it doesn’t seem to have contained his mojo, as he apparently kicked some butt in Dundee, and he scored the second of our two second period goals against Blaze, the first being claimed in style by coach Danny Stewart, on the powerplay. (Is that how you say it. I’m SO almost there with this terminology fandango but I still need reassurance! I’m not like, a proper writer, you know! As long as I don’t say anything completely idiotic like ‘fancy a puck’ or something. Oh wait…). But anyway - if anyone sees Mike Prpich's beard, please could they return it to him immediately? Or bring it to me and I'll look after it for him, and feed it and things. Thanks. On with the match report...

Bosh. Boss man Stewey shows them how it's done in the Toon.

In contrast to the fight-fest in Coventry, tonight’s game was almost incident-free, with only 2 penalty minutes picked up by each side. There was a bit of feisty-ness from time to time, and John Schwarz got hit in the chest with a puck which looked extremely painful but he bounced straight back from it, because he’s brick ‘ard, innit. This wasn’t to say the atmosphere wasn’t intense; the tension wound up as we moved into the third period (cue scary movie music) and Vipers fans feared the usual collapse. With just a few minutes remaining on the clock, Blaze finally struck it lucky and managed to squeeze one by Charlie, and the knuckle-chewing commenced. Blaze pulled their keeper but we stayed strong and scored a third into the empty net. Cue insane celebration for the entirety of the remaining 40 seconds and beyond. With six minutes to go, I had thought to myself ‘if we don’t win this, I’ll…’ I never did figure out what I would have done, but I don’t think it would have been pretty so I’m pleased I didn’t need to worry about it.

I will continue to heap praise on netminder Charlie Effinger, who played an absolute blinder, and prompted me to revert to my cockney roots and say things like ‘go on my son’ and such-like. He saved everything that Coventry threw at him, and was duly rewarded with the Man of the Match award, an honour which he fully deserved, along with the crowd chanting his name. I am massively chuffed for the lad as he’s had it tougher than most over the last few weeks and honestly, you’ve never seen a happier face. I still want to give him a cuddle although I fear now there may be bit of a queue forming. I asked first!

Happy hockey players! This is what they look like!

So that’s that then. I’m still on a high this morning from what was one of my best ever sporting experiences. And that’s not over-stating it. (I’m simultaneously on a self-induced low from the rather over-indulgent celebrating that took place when I got home!). There’s no denying what a win over the mighty Blaze means to the club and its fans. It’s a massive victory for everyone, and I hope that all the players enjoyed it as much as the 612 fans who made the trip did, lord knows they deserved to! Also, My First Hockey Jersey had its inaugural outing, and is apparently lucky! Which is nice. It was on the large side though. I know the players have to fit themselves plus an amount of padding in there, but 2XL is not a size I have ever been familiar with, I’m happy to say. It’s led me to decide that next time, I’ll have to sponsor one of the smaller guys, if only to get something approaching a suitable fit.

Finished! Was that brief enough for you? No? Tough! I could extol the virtues of last night’s wondrous sporting spectacle ‘til the cows come home to be honest, and pretty much have been, but I’ll just leave you with the news that I brought another newbie along to his first hockey match yesterday and the first words out of his mouth as we left Whitley Bay Ice Rink were ‘that was awesome’. If we can have that effect on every new person that a fan brings through the door then maybe, just maybe, the future might not be so bleak.

Dangerous Liaisons

Prologue

Right. Cards on the table, everyone. I’m not going to lie to you dear readers, I’ve been in more cheerful moods in my life than I have been so far this week. And I’ll tell you the truth of the matter as I’m discovering it. Between you and me, it is not an entirely pleasant experience being a Newcastle Vipers fan. I was warned of this possibility fairly early on in my induction to all things ice hockey, but I was blithely unaware of how quickly it would start to ring true. It really has been a baptism of fire. But on the plus side, I have been overwhelmed at the positive response since I joined your merry band of puck-chasing loons, from the hockey community as a whole, and I have in turn been amazed at the loyalty and upbeat attitude shown by Vipers fans despite the difficult situation that the club currently find themselves in. Not that it’s news – you all seem to be quite used to bearing this level of uncertainty and for that I salute you. And I just wanted to acknowledge that fact before launching into my latest inane drivellings. I have to admit that I have spent the last few days writing and re-writing heaps of depressing speculative nonsense, some of which might well be valid, but it’s the last thing we all need right now, so sod it. I’m going to merrily proceed down the line of inquiry I initially intended to pursue before the good ship Vipers started to pitch and roll in the stormy waters of the financial wasteland that appears to be the lower half of the Elite Ice Hockey League.

More than anything right now, we need support. Support from fans both old and new. Old I can’t help with – apart from perhaps to try to remind them why they loved hockey in the first place. But new fans? Well, that’s where I come in. Or at least, where I hope to come in. That was the initial aim of this blog, after all. I’ve been thinking for a while about writing a piece comparing hockey and football, in the hope of enticing local football fans to spend the hours waiting for Match of the Day on a Saturday evening taking in a live sporting occasion of a very different nature. It’s time to rouse the troops, people. Once more into the breach dear friends and all that jazz. So. That bit up there ^ is for you, hockey fans. But the bit I’m about to write, the bit down there, is for all your football-supporting buddies. Forward it to them. Send it around your office. Do whatever you have to do. But get the word out there! (Send it to other sports fans too, I’m sure they will be able to relate!)

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Friends, colleagues, football fans. Lend me your ears. I bring you news of great joy. Are you finding it a drag watching eleven men in stripey shirts jogging around a patch of grass with eleven other men, pouting and preening and executing expert swan dives in front of a dude dressed in black who can only run backwards, week in, week out? No? Okay. I do understand. For all its faults in the current day and age, football IS still a good game. I’ve been watching it for as long as I can remember. And yes, it has its moments. But you have to admit, it’s become a bit tiresome of late. Criminal activity, sordid affairs and stroppy Scousers complaining about earning less than a million quid a month are spoiling this once-great sport for everyone involved. You know what you need? Another sport to follow. To lighten the load, take your mind off of your footballing woes and remember that magical feeling when things were new, and fresh, and exciting.

You never know, it might just work out that when football is making you want to expel your hastily purchased curry-flavoured pastry snack from your innards in disgust after your particular collection of over-paid, alice band-wearing pansies fail to pick up a single point against Blackpool, you could redeem your evening almost instantly, with a trip to an ice hockey match. It’s the perfect antidote for the jaded football fan; a quick win solution. I promise you, you will not be disappointed. I’m not telling you to leave football. I know that it’s hard. It’s a long-standing relationship. You made your commitments to it many years ago; you can’t simply divorce it and be on your merry way. You might even have children with football. But consider ice hockey at first, if you will, as a clandestine lover. Here are some reasons why you might consider taking this new sport as your ‘bit on the side’.

For a start, there’s the thrill of it all. It’s fast, furious and full-on, ALL the time. It may not last as long as football but you get some serious bang for your buck. Quality, not quantity. Instant gratification. It’s like a short, sharp shock to the system, rousing you from years of no-score-draw-induced slumber into a whole new world of intensity. And although it may not last as long, footie fiends, it does offer something football could never give you – TWO half times! Yes, two. That’s double the pie-eating, beer-swilling and socialising opportunities, right there. Oh and don’t worry about finishing your pint before you go back into the stadium, you can drink wherever you like. Yes, this is a sport where you can drink solidly, throughout, if you so choose. It’s like cricket. Except you don’t have to take a week off work to watch it! And although it’s technically an indoor sport, fear not – it’s brass monkeys in there, so you’ll still feel brick hard if you decide to take your top off!

I’ve mentioned in previous posts the small matter of the speed of the game, but I think it’s worth mentioning again. Ice hockey exists in a whole different dimension, time-wise. Anyone not used to it should be prepared to be confused for the first couple of games. But don’t let it put you off. It’s like dog years in comparison to human years. And look how happy dogs are! Eons pass by in hockey whilst in football, time ticks by slower than it would at John Major’s all-night Concrete Convention. It’s all so pedestrian in comparison; to see the likes of Rooney and Gerrard plodding about on their boring old human feet is old news when there are men with blades strapped to the bottom of theirs zipping around at light speed to marvel at instead.

And these men are REAL men. They don’t fall over unless someone literally picks them up and THROWS them over. Which they quite often do! And it’s been scientifically proven that you can absorb manliness via osmosis, just the same as the way you might come home from a football match feeling slightly emasculated having watched some pretty boys prance about on a field for 90 minutes. Do you scream at the referee for the slightest infraction and then panic because a player is rolling about in fake agony and might have broken a fingernail? Ever feel inclined to use ‘male’ beauty products to try and emulate the looks of your favourite footballer? Fear not. Ice hockey will knock that rubbish out of you. This is a sport where you can actually attack somebody and still only get sent off for five minutes. Watch grown men slamming each other into walls three inches in front of your face for an evening and you’ll be fully restored to masculinity. Ladies, you’ll either come away feeling light-headed and having palpitations, or you too will be fully restored to masculinity. It could go either way. You’ll either faint, or punch somebody. But hey, it’s living!

Real men. Engaged in actual combat. The referee is actually cheering them on.

Don’t get me wrong, football fans. There are things about it that will feel strange, different, maybe even a bit wrong; but like putting on ladies’ underwear in the privacy of your own home, it’s okay to like it as long as nobody sees you doing it (girls, your equivalent metaphor is using a power drill). For example, I’ve mentioned in previous posts about the frequent stoppages in play. Yes, they’re strange at first, and quite hard to get used to. But everyone has their funny little habits that you just learn to love, and you’ll find yourself relishing these opportunities to catch up with friends, meet new people, discover what the hell’s going on, or watch one of the players pick some of his teeth up off the ice and stagger off bleeding. Everybody wins.

Bleeding. Actual blood. Yeah!

Something you would have experienced this season as a hockey fan that you never would in football is a team coach who actually swears in his post-match interviews. I guess the closest we get in football is somebody like Ian Holloway, but still, actual swearing! Edgy. Thankfully it was bleeped as I’m not sure it wouldn’t have sounded quite amusing in a Canadian accent, thus detracting from its impact (although I wouldn’t say that to coach Danny Stewart’s face!). Stewart also had a go at the infamous Brad Voth in one of our recent matches, getting up in the Behemoth’s face like a good’un. For the football fans, I’m trying to think of a suitable comparison but short of saying it was like Alex Ferguson beating up Vinnie Jones in the middle of a match and nobody batting an eyelid, I really can’t think of one. And I just don’t think that image does it justice because of its sheer unlikelihood. The very fact that these things go on in hockey is what makes it such an unpredictable and exciting sport to watch. It’s dangerous. It’s thrilling. And it’ll give you a night you’ll never forget. And the next time you’re at football? You’ll be thinking of ice hockey.

So to conclude, my ball-chasing chums, I urge you to throw caution to the wind and indulge in a flirtation with the unknown. Make a sneaky date with hockey this weekend, for a little extra-curricular activity. Yes it’s naughty. Yes it’s wrong. Yes you’ll have to think of an excuse when you go home to football smelling of ice hockey. But what football doesn’t know won’t hurt it. It can be our little secret. Go on. You know you want to.

Got your attention? Bored with balls? Fancy a puck this weekend? (Damn, I promised myself I’d get through this entire extended metaphor without resorting to cheap hockey equipment-based innuendo. Oh well, what’s done is done!) Get your butts down to Whitley Bay Ice Rink this Sunday at 5:30pm to see Newcastle Vipers take on Coventry Blaze. Do it. You’ll never be quite the same again. http://www.vipershockey.co.uk/