I’ve never heard the word ‘howay’ so many times in one evening.
It was a Saturday night, in Whitley Bay. It quite often is, these days. The Vipers were taking on the Dundee Stars in the first of five vital matches to be played between the two sides over the next few weeks. A budding rivalry between the clubs, which had originally come about based on the fight for the last play-off spot, was further fuelled last week by the controversy surrounding the Vipers’ unsuccessful attempt to bring in an additional import, which was blocked by Dundee and Edinburgh, leading this to be the first so-called ‘grudge match’ between the two sides. Background set? Check!
It was my first game in two weeks and alas, my first Dale Mahovsky-less game. I didn’t think it would affect me that badly but what with that and the time away from all things hockey my rose-tinted spectacles had slipped somewhat. Thankfully, I don’t tend to use those particular optical enhancers for ice hockey, what with the fact they make everything look pink and that; instead I had new contact lenses with a stronger prescription, which meant that I could actually see the puck and everything! (I think this proves uncategorically that vanity is dangerous. Be warned, people!) I felt like a Cyclops or some kind of X-Person or something, and almost expected to inherit the ability to zoom in and out and obtain factual information about players on a vidi-printer type optical extension. You know, like, ‘BRENT HUGHES… DUNDEE CAPTAIN… FORMERLY OF NEWCASTLE VIPERS… SUFFERS FROM SMS (SHORT MAN SYNDROME)…’ Sadly those talents weren’t forthcoming, but at least I had greater clarity than usual.
The first period was end-to-end but lacked end product, with few shots on goal and no score. The Vipers fans were in fine voice however, competing with the healthy contingent of Stars fans who had made their way south of the border for the match. I embraced my inner Geordie on numerous occasions, and hoped that I didn’t stick out like the cockney sore thumb that I am. I feel that investing in a subtle disguise might be a plan. I’ll whack out the fake tan, shall I? (Only joking, lovely people of the North-East!).
It was a Saturday night, in Whitley Bay. It quite often is, these days. The Vipers were taking on the Dundee Stars in the first of five vital matches to be played between the two sides over the next few weeks. A budding rivalry between the clubs, which had originally come about based on the fight for the last play-off spot, was further fuelled last week by the controversy surrounding the Vipers’ unsuccessful attempt to bring in an additional import, which was blocked by Dundee and Edinburgh, leading this to be the first so-called ‘grudge match’ between the two sides. Background set? Check!
It was my first game in two weeks and alas, my first Dale Mahovsky-less game. I didn’t think it would affect me that badly but what with that and the time away from all things hockey my rose-tinted spectacles had slipped somewhat. Thankfully, I don’t tend to use those particular optical enhancers for ice hockey, what with the fact they make everything look pink and that; instead I had new contact lenses with a stronger prescription, which meant that I could actually see the puck and everything! (I think this proves uncategorically that vanity is dangerous. Be warned, people!) I felt like a Cyclops or some kind of X-Person or something, and almost expected to inherit the ability to zoom in and out and obtain factual information about players on a vidi-printer type optical extension. You know, like, ‘BRENT HUGHES… DUNDEE CAPTAIN… FORMERLY OF NEWCASTLE VIPERS… SUFFERS FROM SMS (SHORT MAN SYNDROME)…’ Sadly those talents weren’t forthcoming, but at least I had greater clarity than usual.
The first period was end-to-end but lacked end product, with few shots on goal and no score. The Vipers fans were in fine voice however, competing with the healthy contingent of Stars fans who had made their way south of the border for the match. I embraced my inner Geordie on numerous occasions, and hoped that I didn’t stick out like the cockney sore thumb that I am. I feel that investing in a subtle disguise might be a plan. I’ll whack out the fake tan, shall I? (Only joking, lovely people of the North-East!).
A man in a stripey shirt tries in vain to prevent the Extreme Majorette team attempting their infamous suicide baton twirl (Pic by Ian Macbeth)Dundee were a physical presence and their MO for the game seemed to be to try and weaken the Vipers already light bench by drawing them into committing penalties, and they succeeded in style with a minute to play in the first period. After a couple of hits on netminder Charlie Effinger it all kicked off, ‘it’ being two separate fights, involving no less than 7 players (ish), both of which were conducted in what appeared (to this novice at least) to be a less than a sportsmanlike manner. I was reliably informed that this was how it ‘used to be’ in the sport; it was described as ‘old time hockey’ which if Saturday’s brawl was anything to go by translates as ‘guys kicking the crap out of each other with no code of honour whatsoever and just being left to it’. The referee had no control over the situation and the fights continued uninterrupted despite our players being down, and in the case of Sam Zajac, outnumbered.
The Vipers fans were incensed - and I mean, livid - ex-Viper Brent Hughes bearing the brunt of the home crowd’s derision, and much as I love a good fight, the intensity of the situation was a bit much for me and my protective instincts won out over my bloodlust and rendered me completely speechless, hands clamped round my face in a comedy Macauley-Culkin-in-Home-Alone sort of fashion, struck dumb with outrage. I half expected a Panthers/Blaze-style bench clearance and perhaps, if we hadn’t been outnumbered, it might have gone that way. The period was brought to a close early for the hapless officials to attempt to regain a semblance of control and work out who would take what in terms of penalty minutes. It meant that at the beginning of the second period, Vipers were left with just 7 skaters for a short period, our penalty box busier than our bench – not a good sign.
The second period was a case of ‘back to business’ but with the added intensity that only a good mass brawl can inject into a game. . Vipers scored their first goal from the stick of Ninja Rzeszutko off the post – I’ve had some embarrassing moments in my time cheering disallowed goals in football, to the point where I often look at the linesman before cheering. The red light is my hockey equivalent, and it didn’t illuminate which confused me, but everyone around me was celebrating and it looked in to me, so I joined in. And it worked! Happy days. We continued to push forward and despite conceding a goal, went into the second period break ahead through a well-taken goal from Captain Paul Sample.
A trademark third period collapse could have been on the cards but in the end, although Dundee made their 6-man advantage tell, the win was far from emphatic. The remaining Vipers went down fighting, and it could be argued the third goal would perhaps not have materialised if it wasn’t for another suspect refereeing decision leaving us defending against another Stars powerplay. The defeat was bitterly disappointing but not an entirely surprising outcome, in a match where the list of penalties exceeded the number of players on the benches, the officials struggled to remain in control, and the Stars team put in a cynical performance against tired and under-strength opposition. But from an objective point of view, it was a fantastic night’s entertainment and despite my recent malaise, totally reaffirmed to me why I love this sport so much. I can’t over-emphasize how proud I am to be involved with a club where everyone continues to give their heart and soul despite such difficult circumstances. Fantastic group of human beings, and that includes players, management and all the fans too.
The Vipers fans were incensed - and I mean, livid - ex-Viper Brent Hughes bearing the brunt of the home crowd’s derision, and much as I love a good fight, the intensity of the situation was a bit much for me and my protective instincts won out over my bloodlust and rendered me completely speechless, hands clamped round my face in a comedy Macauley-Culkin-in-Home-Alone sort of fashion, struck dumb with outrage. I half expected a Panthers/Blaze-style bench clearance and perhaps, if we hadn’t been outnumbered, it might have gone that way. The period was brought to a close early for the hapless officials to attempt to regain a semblance of control and work out who would take what in terms of penalty minutes. It meant that at the beginning of the second period, Vipers were left with just 7 skaters for a short period, our penalty box busier than our bench – not a good sign.
The second period was a case of ‘back to business’ but with the added intensity that only a good mass brawl can inject into a game. . Vipers scored their first goal from the stick of Ninja Rzeszutko off the post – I’ve had some embarrassing moments in my time cheering disallowed goals in football, to the point where I often look at the linesman before cheering. The red light is my hockey equivalent, and it didn’t illuminate which confused me, but everyone around me was celebrating and it looked in to me, so I joined in. And it worked! Happy days. We continued to push forward and despite conceding a goal, went into the second period break ahead through a well-taken goal from Captain Paul Sample.
A trademark third period collapse could have been on the cards but in the end, although Dundee made their 6-man advantage tell, the win was far from emphatic. The remaining Vipers went down fighting, and it could be argued the third goal would perhaps not have materialised if it wasn’t for another suspect refereeing decision leaving us defending against another Stars powerplay. The defeat was bitterly disappointing but not an entirely surprising outcome, in a match where the list of penalties exceeded the number of players on the benches, the officials struggled to remain in control, and the Stars team put in a cynical performance against tired and under-strength opposition. But from an objective point of view, it was a fantastic night’s entertainment and despite my recent malaise, totally reaffirmed to me why I love this sport so much. I can’t over-emphasize how proud I am to be involved with a club where everyone continues to give their heart and soul despite such difficult circumstances. Fantastic group of human beings, and that includes players, management and all the fans too.
Newcastle Vipers: So fast, they cannot be seen clearly by the naked eye. Dundee Stars, on the other hand... (Pic by Ian Macbeth)Anyway, enough of the serious business. I know you’ve all been dying to hear my thoughts on the latest Viper-related facial hair, and I’m thrilled this week to be able to report that Mike Prpich’s beard turned up in Belfast! Quite what he was doing leaving it there I don’t know, but we can call off the search, much to the relief of frightened members of the public, and of course, his chin. There seems to be a collective face-fuzz increase in the Vipers camp which makes me wonder if perhaps male beard growth experiences a similar hormonal phenomenon to women who work in close proximity and affect each other’s lady cycles. Perhaps Gillette could sponsor a scientific investigation into said phenomenon. I would of course be happy to volunteer my services for data collection. See below pics for initial evidence. I swear to several gods, none of these beards were there on Saturday night. Something funny happened on that ferry from Stranraer to Belfast…
The Newcastle Vipers Official Beard-Log... Or 'B-log' (let's see if that new word catches on! Remember, you heard it here first!)
The Newcastle Vipers Official Beard-Log... Or 'B-log' (let's see if that new word catches on! Remember, you heard it here first!)
Below: John Schwarz modelling the Canadian Woodcutter v.3™
Kyle Sibley. This one DEFINITELY wasn't there on Saturday night.
Coach Danny Stewart leading by example
Jamie Tinsley - he didn't have a single hair on his face until he started playing ice hockey. True story.
Below: The Inspiration. He spills beard-growing hormones from every pore and makes facial hair spontaneously erupt on the faces of all who are near him. Take a bow, Sir Mike of Prpich.
All Beard Log pics kindly reproduced from Paul Lynch Photography http://www.paullynch.smugmug.com/
PS Stay tuned for instalment 2 of the blog later this week, following our Challenge Cup semi-final at Whitley Bay against our good old pals the Nottingham Panthers. ‘A cup semi-final,’ I hear you cry?! ‘That sounds awfully important and exciting!’ Well you’re right, it’s both – so get your sexy butts down to the rink and experience the pinnacle of our season so far. ‘On a school night?!’ Yes. Quit your whining and get yerselves to the bar. Mine’s a Bulmers. Buy your tickets HERE!
http://www.vipershockey.co.uk/shop/
PPS Stay tuned to the blog in the coming weeks, too, for all manner of hockey-related excitement INCLUDING: my graduation from hockey kindergarten, Zamboni Girl: The Sequel (Just when you thought it was safe to go back on the ice), Holiday: the Whitley Bay Ice Rink special, The Official ‘Yo’ Momma’ joke-book, by John Schwarz, an exclusive interview with Mike Prpich in which he reveals the secret to growing a beard so virile, it can manage its own small business empire in Northern Ireland, and Through the Keyhole: A peek into the homes of hockey players - which ones are stinking pits and which are bodacious boudoirs? You decide!
PPPS At least three of the above are true! But which ones? Who can say! It all depends on which restraining orders I can get lifted!
PPPPS Um, Bye then. See you later in the week! ENJOY THE GAME!
PMSL as usual Katy, yer a class act girl!
ReplyDeleteSee you in the VIP lounge tomorrow night ;)
FACT - Every single one of these players were clean shaven when they stepped on the coach to Belfast on Sunday morning!
ReplyDeleteThanks Derek! See you tonight!
ReplyDeleteAnd thank you Paul, I am relieved to know my eyes weren't deceiving me! It's a miracle!