I Need a Hero... Part 2

Zamboni Girl - the sequel!! She's back, she's bad, and she's a danger to society. Well, to Dundee at any rate.



Stay tuned for more adventures from Zamboni Girl and Broccoli Boy... Parts 3 to 42 and of course the obligatory Prequel will be hitting your screens sometime this millennium!

Sat on by Giants... but still in the hunt

The end of the ice hockey season is looming all too large. It was tangible at Whitley Bay on Saturday night, as Viper fan discussion turned to the end of season awards, and the play-off weekend, but strangely enough, nothing beyond that. Approaching the end of the season is sort of like approaching a blind precipice. You know there has to be something beyond the edge, you just can’t figure out what it is. And you know that finding out is going to be more than a bit scary. And possibly quite painful.

It’s a wonder I’ve still got a job, or a social life outside of hockey at all, as I have been lovingly enveloped into hockey’s warm and inviting bosom over the last few months to the point where I literally can’t remember exactly what life was like without it. I have vague images in the murk of my distant memory of a time when I didn’t even know Newcastle HAD an ice hockey team – what on earth did I do then? It feels like so long ago. I can't even conceive a life without it now. Like an abnormal growth in your groin, it gets in the way a bit, and occupies your mind a lot of the time, but you're sort of used to it now and you wouldn't feel quite whole without it.

With that slightly bizarre reflection in mind I’m relishing every single game, in full-on ‘enjoy it while it lasts mode’. It feels as though I have seen a lot more of some teams than I have of others this season; Nottingham, Coventry and Edinburgh topping the list right down to Sheffield who I haven’t seen at all (thankfully as they’re like, really good and junk), and Belfast were a team who I enjoyed watching last time I saw them back in October despite the fact they beat us, so I was anticipating an enjoyable encounter on Saturday last. And it got off to a fantastic start as the Vipers took an unexpected early lead through Jaro Rzeszutko.

The first period was scrappy which suited us down to the ground. We were dogged and persistent, interrupting the Giants’ flow, and a hefty dose of gritty defending combined with a string of unbelievable, Herculean saves from Charlie Effinger – seriously, the dude has mad skills – meant that we went in at the period break with the score tied at 1-1. We couldn’t sustain the level of exertion however, despite having three Whitley Warriors players on the bench to bolster our dwindling numbers, and the Giants punished us early in the second period, dominating possession for over ten minutes and scoring three times in the period, twice from the powerplay. They probably would have scored even more had some of their number not taken it upon themselves to make some seriously ham-fisted attempts at shooting, presumably inspired by the spectacular penalty miss by Ashley Cole in the Chelsea v Everton FA Cup shoot-out earlier in the afternoon. Quite a few pucks were fired into the netting or out of the rink, and one even bounced back off of the rink ceiling – quite a feat.

There's a Yiddish proverb (no really, there is, I'm not making this up) that goes something like 'surrounding yourselves with dwarves does not make you a giant'. Well I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to argue on that point. It really kind of does. Our youngsters pulled their weight and the whole team gave it everything as always, but overall the lack of size and strength seemed to play a part, and the Giants really did look larger than life in comparison to our relatively slight team, particularly huge defenceman Mike Hoffman whose presence was imposing as he became the second person this season - after Brad Voth - to make Whitley Bay ice rink look like no more than a frozen puddle.

In place of photographic evidence this week, please see below an (highly respected) artist's impression of the key problem:

Giants player (left) has been scaled down. Vipers player (right); actual size. This doesn’t count as high-sticking, by the way, seeing as how it only reaches his waist.

There would have still been hope in the third period had the Vipers not been dog-tired and had Corey Neilson been the opposing coach (I jest! Or do I...), but sadly this wasn’t the case and the Giants added another three goals to their tally and made the trip back across the Irish sea happy with a clean, clinical and accomplished win. You can’t fail to have a soft spot for the Northern Irish side following their hilarious and endearing Christmas promotional video, but in addition to their extraordinary ability to perform an impressive coordinated dance routine, I have also to compliment the Giants on being the only team I’ve seen at Whitley Bay who have never shown a sniff of foul play, been overly belligerent, or tried to use our lack of numbers against us. Not that they needed to – they came, they played their game, and we could only trouble them for one period – it was a definitive win, but a deserved one, and executed with class. It’s refreshing in some ways to get through an entire hockey game without seeing a raised fist or feeling the need to hurl abuse at someone. It felt quite alien actually so I spent a portion of the following day hollering insults through the window at passers-by on my street instead, just to release some pent-up aggression.

Sunday was a different story as the Vipers chalked up a comprehensive road win over hapless Edinburgh, an assured display featuring hat-tricks from Mike Prpich and Jaro Rzeszutko which will surely boost confidence and more importantly brings us to within sniffing distance of the final play-off spot and well and truly puts the onus on the remaining fixtures, particularly those against our rivals for the spot, Dundee Stars. Will our poor exhausted players make it to the end of the season without keeling over? Will their tired, battered bodies last long enough for us to actually ice enough men to start a game by mid-March? Will I become known as ‘that mad wench at number 14’ by the other inhabitants of my street and be reported to the police? The answers to these, and other questions, in blogs to come!

Even the Bad Times are Good

As I’ve maintained since the beginning of my hockey journey, and indeed through all my sports-supporting endeavours, too much happiness is bad for you. It raises expectations, brings about a false sense of security and makes you a smug, complacent git. But there’s absolutely no chance of that with the Newcastle Vipers, so fear not. Whenever the stork of good luck flies overhead and drops a little bundle of happiness for this team, like the win over Nottingham for example, hot on its tail is a swiftly applied kick in the unmentionable parts by the stork’s lesser known but truly dastardly compatriot, the mallard of misery. But it’s for the best, trust me. Success is SO over-rated. Plus we’re British, and no-one likes a good moan more than us. What do Man United fans have to moan about for example? That their prawn sandwich didn't house the required level of marie rose sauce this week? No-one wants to be a Man United fan now, do they.

But just what is about this Vipers team, and bad luck? When I started writing this blog if someone had told me about the endless list of setbacks that my newly-discovered team were to face, and the crazy successes they would achieve despite them, I would have laughed in their ridiculous prophetic face. Just days after the glory of the amazing win over the Panthers, and his first goal of the season, and me finally taking the plunge buying a shirt with his name on the back, John Schwarz goes and gets himself injured. And puts the kybosh on our chances of reaching the play-offs. Or so you might think. Of all the players for the team to lose, Schwarz is arguably the most key. If I get my hands on whoever caused his injury I’ll… I’ll… probably call them sir and shake their hand. But I’ll be really rude about them behind their backs. Quietly.

So we took to the ice a depleted side on Saturday, down to just 9 skaters; portents of doom hung in the air as we faced an Edinburgh Capitals side desperate for a win. An element of bitterness has crept into the race for the last play-off spot and the three teams battling in the basement of the league have no love lost between them, the Capitals as much a part of ‘import-gate’ as Dundee Stars. I had a bad feeling.

But thankfully it quickly dissipated as it became clear that sadly (for them), the Capitals are quite a poor side. There was no time to waste feeling sorry for them this time, and we skated rings around them, literally, in the first period, piling the pressure on in a series of what appeared to be beautifully executed training exercises, although sadly not racking up the scoreline quite as much as Vipers fans would have hoped; it seemed as though we should have doubled our two goal lead at least by the first period break. Who said offence was the best defence? Some sort of American, presumably, but despite this regrettable handicap whoever the person was had it spot on, on this occasion. We pounded the Capitals’ goal and didn’t give them much of a chance to reply, and even when they did it was to little effect.

Despite this, the slender two goal lead began to feel precarious in the second period, the Capitals tightening up and responding with two goals of their own, and our weakened defence starting to tire, but thankfully by the end of the second period we were 5-2 up. Thanks to, er, some goals, and Vipers fans were able to breathe freely once again.

Films like Avatar and Toy Story seem intent on telling everyone that 3D is a good thing these days. But in hockey terms, it’s quite clear that it’s really not and Hollywood needs to stop talking out of its rear end. However, our ‘3D’ gave their all tonight, and my ode from last week’s blog post still stands. Bearing in mind they’re all under 5’7” and one of them isn’t even a defenceman by trade, they work damn hard, and in the case of Sammy Zajac even have time to settle a score with an adversary, throwing down the gloves as he did against Edinburgh’s Iain Bowie for some reason or other. Great fun. Poor Kyle Sibley must have wondered what crimes he’d committed in a previous life, being the only real defencemen left on the ice as Zajac sat out his five minute major, and looking pretty weary when his shift finally came to an end. The Vipers fans collectively sighed with relief that he actually made it through the game at all without injury.

Don't mess with Sammy Zajac. He will fold you in half and use your head as percussion.

We scored two more goals in the third to put the game to bed and make it safely through our first Schwarz-less game unscathed. Methinks it may not be quite as easy in games to come…

Just to check, to any readers of mine who aren’t already hockey fans, are you STILL not going to see hockey yet? And if not, why the hell not? Scared you might like it? It’s dangerously addictive, I grant you that. But don't be afraid little ones. Resistance is futile! Come! Be hockey’ed! Directly in your FACE! If you’re in the Newcastle area, why not start this weekend? We’re playing Belfast Giants at Whitley Bay ice rink this Saturday (19th February), face-off is at 7:00 and it should be a great night’s entertainment! Our opponents are actual GIANTS!* And as we speed inexorably towards the end of the season, it’s one of your last chances to see pro ice hockey in the north-east for some time to come – don’t find yourself wishing you could have seen a game when it’s too late – just do it! DO IT NOW! Tickets available here: http://bit.ly/hLzxmn

*They’re not. Although they may appear to be, when standing next to our players!

Sweet dreams are made of this

It’s the stuff hit movies are made of. I’ve run out of superlatives to describe this Vipers team, and their achievements this season, and in truth I could probably just go back to the win over the Panthers a couple of weeks ago and reel out some of the same material, but it simply wouldn’t do justice to the night we had at Whitley Bay on Sunday. And I think I need to engage in a blow-by-blow written account, not just for posterity but to try and convince myself that what happened, actually did happen. I can’t deal with it all in one go so I will employ the use of chapters as I attempt to recreate the scenes that unfolded.

Chapter 1: Tensions rise

Billed as the ‘Bash at the Bay’, the Vipers team took to the ice resplendent in Hawaiian shirt-style jerseys which were, well, eye-catching to say the least. After the humiliating 15-0 defeat at the hands of the Nottingham Panthers on their territory last week, it was clear to see from early on in the game that the Vipers were in no mood to allow a repeat performance. They defended tightly and made their presence felt; having played each other twice in the last two weeks, there were obviously personal scores to be settled, and players clashed early on, John Schwarz coming to blows with Panthers Coach Corey Neilson inside ten minutes and Mike Prpich, giving not a jot for his personal safety, tussled with Guy Lepine shortly afterwards in a situation that threatened to get out of hand.

The tension was almost unbearable, as the match officials made a string of poor decisions and struggled to control the game, frustrations bubbled over and it seemed likely that someone could get seriously hurt. I actually felt sick with nerves; the hostility in the air was so tangible you could have bottled and sold it to Celtic and Rangers fans, and the game could have boiled over at any moment, Sam Zajac and John Schwarz continuing to fan the flames of conflict even after Prpich and Lepine had taken their seats. Luckily the period ended and gave everyone a chance to cool down, but not before a lengthy debate with the referee and linesmen took place on the ice. Oh to have been a fly on the hoardings for that one!

The Cubist version of Mike Prpich.

Lepine: Prpich, baby! How dare you trim your luscious beard! How dare you! Your beautiful chin will get cold! I shall remove the hair from your head in protest and stick it to your face!

Chapter 2: War of Attrition

The second period started out somewhat more sedately, the period break seemingly imbuing a sense of calm on the previously enraged collection of hockey players. Unfortunately, Panthers added to their lead just a few minutes in, we went 3-0 down and the game took on a familiar feeling of inevitability. The lead lasted nearly the whole period, as the teams worked to try and wear each other down, the Panthers' version of this mostly consisting of incessant foul-play, culminating in the sucker-punch in the Lepine/Prpich saga at around 17 minutes in when Lepine decided to propel his playthings out of the cot-like four-wheeled baby carriage, and received a game penalty for behaving like a little girl in the playground. Well, actually I think it was for third man in, but he pulled Mike Prpich’s hair plenty and if there was a penalty for that, he would have been done twice over. Prpich did some ‘bashing at the bay’ of his own and the two exchanged pleasantries in the penalty box following the incident before Lepine headed off for an early bath. (Ha! As if Whitley Bay ice rink has a bath! Cold hose-down, more like!)

Then, in the closing minutes of the period, we scored a goal through Danny Stewart, and it was game on.

Chapter 3: Ode to Defencemen

O Defencemen, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
You are all most valiant warriors, enlightening my days.
Boom!
I love thee Kyle Sibley, with your short-handed scoring skills
Bam!
And even more for your second goal, which brought hope back to Hill(head)s
Bosh!
The amazing Sammy Zajac, like Persil, small and mighty.
John Schwarz, tall and noble, strong and bold and somewhat fight-y.
Bada-boom!
Oh how you picked your moment to net your first, you beauty
And Danny Stewart too, for even though you are playing out of position, you still technically count as a defencemen for the purposes of this poem and you scored the winning goal and you filled my heart with joy.
Yay!

Wow I am so awesome at poetry! I may well write to the Queen and demand she installs me as the new Poet Laureate as a matter of urgency. That English degree sure is paying off now, eh Mum and Dad!

Chapter 4: What really happened

When the Panthers went 4-1 up five minutes into the third period, many a fan would have effectively felt this equalled game over. Thankfully, hockey fans know better, and when Corey Neilson and his unpredictable Panthers are in town, anything can, and usually does, happen. Taking a leaf out of Arsene Wenger’s book following his team’s incredible throwing away of a 4-0 lead against the footballing Geordies on Saturday, Neilson is a coach who takes losing a lead to new lows. The Vipers battled back to 4-3 through a brace from Kyle Sibley, and then tied the score at 4-4 through Toms Hartmanis following yet another outstanding save from Charlie Effinger. There were 7 minutes to go.

4 minutes to go. David-Alexandre Beauregard converts a powerplay opportunity to take the lead for the Panthers. 5-4. Time to throw in the towel? Not a chance. Stick with me, sports-fans.

1.5 minutes to go. I was almost perfectly positioned up in the stands - directly in John Schwarz’ sight-line as he received the puck and travelled up the left wing - to see him pick out the shot, and to see that there was nothing in his way. Every single person in that ice rink saw it coming. Except Panthers netminder, Dan Green, that is. Schwarz took aim and let rip a monstrous slapshot. That goal was inevitability incarnate. I’m certain I started cheering a split second before the net bulged as the puck flew in.

The place erupted. The crowd had been increasing in volume throughout the game and the roof was now lifting right off. I’d been waiting for that goal all season and wondered if it was ever coming. I’ve no doubt John had as well. What a time to score it. We're not worthy! and all that jazz.

1 minute to go. Vipers called a time-out. God only knows what was said but in the movie version of this story (coming soon to a theatre near you), Danny will be making an inspirational speech about triumph over adversity, wreaking a poetic revenge for the injustices of the previous game, and how tough guys shouldn’t pull hair.

20 seconds to go. Stewart receives the pass from… oh I can’t even remember. Hartmanis? It’s all a blur. He has sight of goal, brilliant positioning from the Coach who’s thrown all notion of covering in defence out of the window to take up his rightful position in front of net. Somewhere, someone stops time. There’s a moment of complete silence and everyone is frozen where they stand, faces captured in exquisite anticipation. Then someone starts time again. The goal goes in. Hugging, screaming, stamping, ridiculous dancing, an epic on-ice pile-on. These all occur simultaneously. Loudly. And riotously.

17 seconds to go. Everyone suddenly remembers the game isn’t over and focus returns to the ice, but it’s too late for the Panthers, and as the seconds count down the Vipers fans poise themselves to go completely and utterly mental.

2 seconds to go. The puck is cleared down the ice and it’s all over.

Players and fans lose the plot. It all goes blurry. If the ice wasn't encased in a plastic wall, I have no doubt the fans would have invaded the rink en masse. My half-full bottle of cider has long since been tipped across the floor. I don’t even care. That’s what this means.

Unbridled joy. And terror, for anyone standing too close. When did Danny lose a tooth, anyway? He looks quite alarming.

Chapter 5: The Aftermath

Corey Neilson, you fine figure of a man, with your Sexy Neilson Hockey you are really spoiling us. You continue to provide the hockey fans of Great Britain and Northern Ireland with unbeatable entertainment and for that we salute you. I honestly thought nothing could top the last time we beat the Panthers but the nature of this victory means that it actually has. It has gone straight into my top 3 sporting occasions of all time, fact. Sheer brilliance, the fairytale ending you couldn’t have dared to hope for. You literally could not make this up. This is why the best sporting movies are based on true stories.

Don't think I can't see you skulking off in the background there, Corey me old fruit. Not feeling so sexy now, are we? Never mind son. Go and have a cuddle with Jade and make it all better.

Just when I thought this sport could not get any more exciting, this team any more gutsy and brave, and this experience more perfect, it does. Sore throat? Check. Sore hands? Check. Heart bursting with pride? Check. Earlier in the season I said ice hockey was like a terminal illness; well after the infarction-inducing drama of Sunday night I’ll go one step further than that. I think it probably takes years off your life. But they’re the years you’ll be smelling of cabbage and knocking out teenagers with walking sticks anyway so what the hey. For nights like this, it’s worth it.

I reeled out the clichés after the last win over the Panthers so I don’t think I need to this time. Needless to say, we deserved the win. And needless to say, we were brave, strong, ballsy and determined, and lots of other words that mean all those things. Needless to say it probably won’t make any difference in the long run, as needless to say we are still up the proverbial creek without a propulsion device, cash-wise. But needless to say that regardless of what happens in the future, no-one can take this feeling away from me, or any of the other fans who were there to witness it, or those who couldn't be there but were following in spirit, or any of the players who I am sure will go onto future clubs with the story of the night they won the one of the most amazing games they ever played in (yes, yes they will).

Hyperbole and superlatives exhausted, I will retire to a darkened room and attempt to recover my long-lost composure. Hockey really is the craziest rollercoaster ride I’ve ever been on. And with highs like this, who even cares about the lows.

Pain. Lots of it. And a graduation, of sorts.

Hi everyone! So, how have your weeks been? Much going on? What shall we talk about. Bit breezy outside, isn’t it. I had a lovely blueberry cake from Tescos on Saturday. And I’m off for a work night out tonight. How about you? Any gossip? Anything to avoid facing the grim reality of our horrendous weekend of ice hockey-induced misery, eh. It might well have been the worst week of our season so far. But I’m committed to shining a positive light on all things Vipers and I’m not going to back out now, so if you need a bit of a boost, stick with me, and I promise to do my utmost to lift the fug of doom and despondency that seems to have been hanging over us since Monday morning. I may have to resort to telling knock, knock jokes to do this, or perhaps I’ll attempt to draw another picture, that went well last time. But cheer you up I will! It is my raison d’etre. Que?

Anyway, I suppose I’m obliged to provide some sort of match report for our most recent puck-chasing exploits, am I? Um, we lost on Saturday. And got right royally rogered up the proverbial rink on Sunday. Will that do? Okay fine, I’ll note some details for posterity.

Coventry Blaze were the visitors to Whitley Bay on Saturday night. It’s fair to say that after our last two games against them, victories both at home and on the road, Vipers fans were relatively optimistic. How very wrong we were to have such a positive mental attitude! Slapped wrists all round! The game was dismal. It was a huge anti-climax after the incredible win over the Panthers mid-week, and I generously surmised that perhaps the team were saving themselves for the return leg the following day, rather than just being a bit rubbish, but in all fairness, the poor lads looked tired. With a sum total of none of our two-way players available we were down to the bare bones of the squad, just 10 skaters – in short, not enough.

The error-strewn first period set the tone for the rest of the evening, and Blaze inflicted only our second home shut-out of the season, scoring four goals of their own despite not putting in a particularly electrifying performance themselves. The same could be said for the match official who was responsible for some distinctly suspect calls, including the non-ejection of Blaze’s Brad Cruikshank, despite the fact he punched two Vipers players AND a linesman, completely unprovoked. What do you have to do to get thrown out of a game these days?

Brad Cruikshank lays Toms Hartmanis out, seemingly on advice from the match official, who clearly wants a bit of it.

Danny Stewart took the Man of the Match award, the coach never giving in against his former club, skating the length of the rink over and over again trying to inject some life into his listless squad and taking and receiving numerous hits in the process. It was an altogether forgettable affair - thankfully - as I don’t think many Vipers fans would have this match down on their list of season highlights. I heard a number of interesting topics being discussed during the course of the match however which brightened the evening up, for example people’s breakfasts and the nature of black pudding, the peculiarities of people originating from the Ashington area, and the relative merits of Newcastle United. All worthy subjects, of course. Well, except for the last one, maybe.

What I learnt about ice hockey on Saturday night: hockey jerseys have what is called a ‘fight strap’. Honestly I’m not sure why as I’ve seen many a jersey removed during a melee so they can’t be that effective, and it seems that, unhappy with the pre-installed fight strap, some hockey players have taken it upon themselves to provide their own innovative alternatives. A certain Vipers defencemen ties a trusty 2p coin in the back of his jersey with a shoelace in place of the seemingly useless Velcro appendage. True story. I’m not exactly sure how much better it can be, but it seems somehow menacing; I have visions of said coin being removed and used as a deadly weapon when on-ice tensions boil over. Chilling. I can’t believe that our imports are using our sovereign’s noble currency in such a way. John Schwarz. *Raised eyebrow*

Match official: If I give you fifty pounds, will you shave a bit off and let me have it?

Mike Prpich: No. But you may rub it for twenty.

On Sunday we went to Nottingham and had a big fat dose of Panther-shaped revenge inflicted upon us brutally, as penance for daring to beat them in the first leg of the cup semi-final. It was all rather depressing and I don’t wish to elaborate on it any further, thank you very much. Except to mention that there was a whole five minute period when we didn’t concede! Bonus! The loss hurt badly even though it was expected; actual pain ensued. And the universal sporting truth that a team can’t survive on heart and effort alone is sadly coming to pass. In truth we are sorely missing the bite upfront that was provided by players like Mahovsky and Carroll, and it seems that Danny and his warriors are finally running out of answers to the countless questions that have been asked of them this season by the fans, the league and by British hockey in general. Are the wheels finally coming off? Despite our unexpected heroics in Hull, Belfast and Coventry, and the pure unbridled joy of the win over the Panthers, the state of our weakened bench and lack of imports is finally starting to tell. Dundee had the cheek to win over Hull which further dashed the Vipers’ play-off dreams and suddenly, there seems to be very few fixtures left and the end of the season looms perilously large.

Damn, I’m not doing very well at being cheerful, am I? Sorry. Let’s change the subject a bit. After the turbulent few weeks I’ve had, my disillusionment, worry and subsequent reinvigoration to the world of hockey, the tragic loss of Mahovksy, and my first PROPER fight experience against Dundee, I have to say that I now feel fully initiated into the ways of ice hockey. I have been reflecting recently and have come to a startling conclusion: I’m no longer a hockey novice. Following this alarming turn of events I feel almost ready to graduate from hockey kindergarten to regular hockey fan status. Is there some sort of badge or certificate I can have? Or maybe a secret handshake that I have to learn to be ‘let in’ to the club?

I’m not claiming to have completely mastered the game rules, or to have extensive knowledge of ice hockey past or present, but at some point in the last few weeks, I crossed an invisible line. This morning I went back to read through my first couple of blog posts from back in my heady days of hockey novice-ry, when I hadn’t a clue what was going on, but just gained a vague sense of amusement from it all, and what I see in myself now is a changed woman. I have stopped giggling at fights and spotting players by the fact they skate face first. I can confidently construct a sentence which contains all of the following words: ‘powerplay’, ‘netminder’, and ‘slashing’. I know the names of players from OTHER teams. And the derogatory nicknames for said other teams. I know of the singular phenomenon that is ‘sexy Neilson hockey’. I know what the play-offs are, and how a team gets there, and have already purchased tickets for them, actually. It’s a bit unnerving to be honest. My match reports are starting to make some sort of sense and I’m not making enough ridiculous comments anymore. Perhaps I need to turn to another sport for my share of novice rubbish. Any suggestions? I think I could make a good fist of darts commentary, but mainly because of the amusing WAGs rather than the actual darts. ‘He threw a double top! And another one! Oh he threw a 6. But anyway, what is she wearing?’ No? It'll have to be something more obscure I think. Extreme ironing? Samurai fencing championships? Giant water snail racing?

Answers on a postcard.