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.