The Tweet Generation

The Week in Review

It’s me again! And I’d like to think that given the number of times I've flapped my lips on this here blog, you, my lovely readers, must have gotten to know to know me. I’m a girl of simple pleasures, let’s face it. I love fights, beards, and players named after weaponry. And man, can I talk. I’ve not even seen any hockey this week and I’ve still got plenty to tell you. So let’s settle down and have a chinwag, shall we.

Without a live match for my poor, hockey-starved mind to devour, my thoughts turned to matters off-ice this week. And I’ll get to those in good time. But let’s start with some of the talking points from this week’s Elite League action. There was a thriller at the Odyssey as Braehead travelled to take on Belfast, and in an overly physical game there was yet more frustration for fight fans, as in the first meeting between Sam Zajac and Benoit Doucet since ‘that’ check which left Zajac sidelined with concussion, the gloves were dropped but the fight was unable to take place due to some over-enthusiastic officiating. A poor decision in my opinion and potentially a dangerous one: the guys clearly needed to air their grievances but were unable to do so; frustrations could have easily boiled over leading to more unsavoury outcomes being played out. In short, let them go*. If this wasn’t enough Adam Keefe tried to start a fight with half the Braehead team but no-one was game. ‘A’ for effort, lad. Belfast took the game by the horns with just three minutes to spare and continue to look dominant.

Coventry had a hairy bus ride home from Dundee after shutting out the home side and taking the two points back to the West Midlands. Thankfully they made it home safely despite the bus nearly being blown over. In other, more dramatic, and less hairy news, there were some sad losses in the world of British ice hockey as Matthew Myers (Nottingham Panthers) severed his enviable tresses and Chris Zarb (Dundee Stars) shaved off his frankly incredible beard. I’m still reeling from the shock of those unwelcome discoveries. Absent from the weekend’s action were the Sheffield Steelers who were all busy joining Twitter. Oh, and playing the occasional game of hockey in Denmark during their spare moments. They didn’t fare well in the Intercontinental Cup, despite a promising start, and were subject to some seemingly over-sensitive refereeing. Apparently the Europeans don’t do physical ice hockey. Whereas we like a good bashing here in the UK. On a positive note, their entire squad are now on Twitter, so the trip to Denmark wasn’t a total waste of time.

On Sunday, only one ice hockey team turned up in the first period for the dead rubber Challenge Cup tie at Skydome Arena, and as the only team there, the Blaze found it relatively easy to take a 5-0 lead. In the second period only one ice hockey team turned up too – this time however it was Nottingham Panthers, who proceeded to score 5 goals of their own to level the scores. I’m led to believe that both teams were present in the final period. The score was nonetheless tied.

The Tweet Generation

So that’s the hockey dealt with. Now onto my ponderings from the week. I hardly need to point out that as a fan of ice hockey, if you have any interest in the deep and meaningful thoughts that travel through the grey matter of the players you watch and admire, accessing said thoughts is not as difficult (or stalkerish), as it may once have been. No longer do you need to creep around behind them on the street trying to listen in to their private telephone conversations (I’ve not done that, by the way). Never again do you need to pen a desperate fan letter, asking them what their favourite colour is, or if they could be any superhero who would they be (I haven’t done that either. That I can recall). Instead, using the various social media that’s available, Robert is in fact your mother’s brother: instant access to a wealth of richness and diversity, courtesy of the collective brains of your favourite team(s).

By its very nature Twitter is a voyeuristic medium. It allows you to read for yourself whatever little nuggets of wisdom anyone you happen to be intrigued by is sharing with the world at any given moment. For some this amounts to reams of material daily, for others just the choicest morsels will be drip-fed to the starving masses, to satisfy the aching chasm deep inside that could only possibly be filled by the knowledge that their favourite Canadian defenceman is going to the bowling alley for the afternoon. It’s different to Facebook. Facebook is for friends, and family. Twitter is the social network of strangers. You are safe, hidden behind your maximum 15-character username, to follow the people whom you choose to follow without fear of retribution. You never have to talk back. You can read a full conversation between team mates about where to meet for coffee without having to get involved. But – you know they’re meeting for coffee. And that’s something you didn’t know before. Stalkers 1, Privacy 0!

Of course it’s hardly a place to reveal your innermost secrets if you don’t want anyone else to know about them, but there’s just something about Twitter. That sense that maybe, probably, no-one’s really listening (reading) tempts you into giving up just a little more information than you would if you were speaking to a group of people you barely knew in person. It’s the genuine candour adopted by sportsmen, celebrities and the like that makes following them on Twitter so appealing. That sense that you’re catching a glimpse into their everyday lives. Twitter obviously feeds one’s propensity to stalkerishness; but at least I’m not afraid to admit it!

Anyway I promised myself this wouldn’t descend (ascend?!) into a ponderous philosophical commentary on the vicarious nature of social media, so let’s cut to the chase. Ice hockey players: they really do love Twitter, don’t they? And while I concede that a lot of what they dribble on about is no more interesting than any of the rest of the inanity spouted by your average Twitter user, they do make for an entertaining follow. To support this week’s column and to find out just how many of them frequent the site, I set about compiling a Twitter list of EIHL players (available now for any user to follow – @ktdude/eihl-ice-hockey-players). I basically adopted the role of electronic shepherd, herding the lovely big lugs together in one easy to manage pen – and I am surprised to tell you that it contains just shy of 100 of the hairy creatures already. Basically half of the possible number of players contained in the league right now. Surprised? I was.

The variety of fripperies they supply is astounding; I have in recent weeks given Sam Zajac directions, asked Danny Meyers a question about his sideburns (he grows them because otherwise he’d look really young), seen pictures of the Belfast Giants’ Halloween party, viewed a wide selection of Movember moustaches, and discovered that Jeff Pierce really loves his own hair. They aren’t shy about voicing their opinions on games, either. It’s a whole added dimension to the dynamics that already exist between players, teams, coaches, managers, referees, fans, commentators and everyone else involved in our beautiful game. The NHL have banned the use of Twitter on game days. I don’t think the Elite League would ever have the faintest notion of doing similar and I for one hope it stays that way.

And viewing them all together in one list is priceless. It’s taking on a life of its own. Sheffield Steelers used their trip to Denmark as an opportunity to ensure that every single squad member was signed up and the resultant (presumably drunken – I’m allowed to say that, right?) nonsense has been quite amusing if not somewhat baffling to follow. It’s interesting what they choose to say, and not to say. For the most part they seem content to share a great deal – to the extent of possibly having boundary issues. Of course the majority of it is ‘in’ jokes and banter between teammates, but there is some genuinely fun content if you can get through this. My top 3 suggestions of players to follow:

1) Adam Keefe – self-appointed spokesperson for the Belfast Giants this season, Keefe has not wasted any time in throwing himself into life in Northern Ireland, and the Elite League in general. He Tweets regularly, but there’s plenty of substance in there, and he’s not afraid to bite back if someone tries to wind him up. He also made me come over all unnecessary following recent comments about his moustache. Top bloke.

2) Danny Meyers – speaking of top blokes, the Nottingham Panthers captain has surely got to be up there with the best of them. One of my first hockey player follows, Danny is just an all round good egg and is the perfect spokesmodel for Great British hockey. He loves his wife and kids, he enjoys a bit of banter with Simmsey, and he is happy to answer questions once in a while, even the more bizarre ones about sideburns!

3) Ryan Finnerty – Finner16 is a sound dude with a wry sense of humour and although he displays the restraint that a good leader should, he’s not afraid to engage in the banter and is clearly well-liked throughout the game and not just by his own team, or fans.

So to conclude: if you actually care about what goes on between the ears of your favourite hockey players, follow my list. If you don’t really care, follow it anyway, purely for the amusement factor. If you’re not even on Twitter, check it out. It’s ridiculously addictive. And a few weeks down the line, you’ll wonder how you lived without knowing about Jade Galbraith’s trip to the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet.

*STOP PRESS: The fallout from the Zajac/Doucet non-fight is more serious than first thought. Doucet is out for the season, due to a freak accident which occurred when he was wrestled to the ice by the linesmen who landed on him causing his knee to twist the wrong way. A sickening injury, which is a massive blow to the Giants and more so to the player himself. A great shame. My initial thoughts on the way the matter was handled were followed by a lengthy debate and some further hockey schooling and as a result I’m going to hop back up onto the fence on the matter, claiming ‘noobishness’ as my excuse for not being more outspoken. That is all.

What Katy Did Next...

Originally published on http://www.ukamericansportsfans.com/

As a wise man once said (was it Michael Fish?), it never rains, but it pours. Words. From my brain. Yes, after what could be called a bit of a dry patch, my engine has been fuelled with sub-standard hockey and my thirst to spill forth on further hockey-related shenanigans can barely be contained. As such, I decided to take in a live hockey match from the comfort of my very own living room this weekend. Without a team of my own this season what is the point of me if it’s not to stick my nose into other people’s teams’ business and give my tuppence worth, as self-appointed Elite League blogger without portfolio, so to speak. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me! Ha!

For my viewing pleasure this Sunday then, a clash between Coventry Blaze and Cardiff Devils. The weekend had been for me, rather a pleasant one. I had been wallowing in hockey like a happy little piglet in puddles of lovely lovely muck. I thrashed about in it and splashed my piggy toes until I could splash no more, maximising use of the most excellent NHL Gamecenter to watch my Calgary Flames beat the Chicago Blackhawks convincingly, and then watching Edmonton’s incredible youngsters do the same, even more convincingly. Anyone would think I had something against Chicago (I really don’t).

I followed the updates from around the Elite League on Saturday night with interest. Most interesting of all a somewhat topsy-turvy sounding game in Glasgow, where Sheffield Steelers travelled to take on Braehead Clan, the resultant controversy-fest leaving many Clan fans with a bad taste in their mouth as they suffered a number of seemingly contentious decisions against their side, although the main victim on the face of it (no pun intended. Well, maybe a bit) was Steelers alpha male Colt King, who took a questionable hit to the head from Kyle Bruce and was left bleeding and it could be said, less than impressed. The fallout from that one will be one for the violence voyeurs among us (okay, I mean me) and I fear for Bruce who, although tough, has potentially antagonised one of worthiest adversaries in all of Britain-dom in King, who let’s face it, is the only person I’ve seen who’s managed to take out the Panthers’ imperious hard-man Guillaume Lepine. And by take out I mean, completely demolish a man who was unbeaten in his previous 18 fights in this league. Yup. It’s akin to prodding a large bear, repeatedly, with a pointed stick. Inadvisable, foolish, and ultimately likely to land you in hospital.

I’ve developed quite a fascination with the tough guys in the league this season and couldn’t help but notice (as I’m sure everyone else already had) that arguably the two top dogs have cunning gun references in their name/number combinations, Colt King sporting number 45 (self-explanatory) and Adam Keefe’s number 47 lending itself to the clever nickname AK47. It remains to be seen if these two will have a shot at each other (oh dear, somebody lock me up) but doubtless the resultant gunfight will be one to fetch the popcorn for.

Anyway, I digress! (It’s my raison d’etre). The Elite League game may not have promised quite as much in terms of quality as my NHL televisual encounters but it was an interesting prospect for me. It featured a team fresh in my mind from my weekend in Belfast, and one who I had yet to see in action this season in the Blaze. These are likely to be the main two sides who will be contending fourth place in the league, assuming none of the top three suffer a spectacular implosion (stranger things have happened), and none of the Scottish sides has a barn-storming run (again, not outside the realms of possibility – Braehead have proved a force to be reckoned with at times this season, and even Edinburgh have pulled their socks up in no uncertain terms).

Coventry v Cardiff was a home and away double header, with the first game at the big Blue Tent the previous night going the Devils’ way in fairly convincing fashion, hard fought as it was, with a couple of violent incidents and a general niggly feeling between the two teams proliferating. Would the atmosphere have festered overnight or would it be a brand new day between the Welsh side and their closest rivals in the league – in more ways than one.

And so it would seem in my roundabout way of introducing this week’s match report, I’ve come a digression too far, and I need to break for lunch. Or some other relevant drink and/or meal. And I’m sure you do too. We’ve got a whole match report ahead of us, don’t forget. Join me in part 2 of this week’s column to hear my take on the action.

So there I was on my sofa, laptop at the ready, dressing gown and comfy pants donned (no word of a lie), tuned into Blaze TV for my first experience of live Elite League hockey, via the interweb (If you’re already confused, please refer to part 1 of this week’s column to discover how we got here!). Aside from the commentary, which was a shade Brummier than that on NHL Gamecenter, you could barely tell the difference. OK, I’m being generous – the picture quality wasn’t brilliant. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to spot the players’ numbers let alone their faces, but the banter was jolly, as the commentators encouraged listeners to participate in Farmer bingo – basically a guessing game as to which three opposing players would punch or otherwise lay out Blaze’s Robert Farmer first. Great fun. Sadly the answer was no-one but still.

As for my allegiances, I felt pretty neutral, a state that’s both unfamiliar and disconcerting for me. Perhaps I was slightly favouring the Devils purely from a familiarity point of view, but from a journalistic perspective, I would attempt to perch firmly on the fence.

The game started evenly and I put my feet up and made myself comfortable. I could get used to this. Just under five minutes in the deadlock was broken, Max Birbraer taking a fantastic pass from Mark Richardson on the Blaze blue line to score a calmly taken goal. It was just the kick start the game needed and from there it livened right up, and even got a bit feisty, the Blaze laying on some decent hits, Brian Jurynec and Mike McLean in particularly gung-ho form. However they were erratic and gave up a couple of penalties, giving the Devils further powerplay opportunities, and even at full strength Blaze seemed somewhat devoid of ideas. Finally 11 minutes in it was their turn on the powerplay, forwards Shea Guthrie and Matic Kralj combining well to put sustained pressure on the Devils goal and force a good save from Lyle. This was swiftly followed by a period of 5 on 3 for Blaze but still they couldn’t find the back of the net, the Devils penalty kill unit strong once again despite their lack of import Defencemen (having lost Chris Frank to a suspension) and some nice Blaze build-up play was all well and good but lacked end product.

The game ebbed and flowed, the Devils once again finding themselves with the man advantage and a nicely worked chance for Jeff Pierce skimming just wide of the mark, before a second goal came courtesy of the stick of Scott Matzka. The Devils looked in control, assured, and much more like the team they were last season, perfectly capable of taking on and beating the big boys. Blaze had their moments but were unable to achieve any consistency; their forward lines look quick and their defencemen feisty but their shooting was weak and more significantly, rare.

The Welsh side’s dominance continued early in the second period, their systems coming together beautifully, some lovely passing resulting in a goal for Phil Hill in the third minute. Then I had a nice chat with my parents on the phone about their holiday in South Africa from which they had just returned… Ah, the perils of watching hockey at home! (The weather was disappointing but they had a lot of nice wine). Meanwhile back at the ranch (or even the SkyDome) Blaze were attempting to get back into the game, Greg Owen forcing another great save from Lyle. But there seemed to be no stemming the Devils’ flow, the 4thgoal an outstanding effort from Stu Macrae, carving through the Blaze defence; it was all looking too easy.

Paul Thompson called a time out and presumably shared a selection of choice vocabulary with his flailing side, and it clearly did the trick as a period of desperate attacking was to follow from the frustrated home side, who were feeling the pressure from the stands. Poor old Bradley took a bit of pasting, taking several hits in quick succession from Luke Fulghum and Mike McLean, a repeat effort from McLean moments later almost knocking the giant from his feet. He took it all in his stride as he so often does these days, and I believe the travelling Cardiff fans removed a large amount of footwear in tribute.

The tide had turned, and Blaze finally got off the mark via an Owen Fussey individual effort, taking a pass from Shea Guthrie and going one-on-one with Stevie Lyle, almost leaving it too late, Blaze hearts in mouths no doubt before he buried it. The home side’s tally was doubled just seconds later through Dustin Wood, and they turned the tables on the Devils, piling on wave after wave of pressure. The visiting side started to look nervous, a 180° flip from their earlier impressive display. The tempo of the game was turned up to 11, frenetic attacking and a Blaze powerplay followed by a gilt-edged opportunity to bring the game within one goal when Scott Matzka gave up a careless penalty and they went 5 on 3.

I opened an organic strawberry beer. Perks of the job, you know. They finally scored the pressure goal from a Guthrie long shot, the second period proving to be almost a mirror image of the first. Then Brian Jurynec punched Matzka in the back of the head and took a penalty. Cardiff retaliated with some accidental high sticks in McLean’s face followed by Jurynec possibly taking an elbow right at the end of the period – Blaze faces seemed to suffer for their art that night.

I can’t let this report go by without a comment on the period break entertainment – Blaze had their announcer singing live with a boy band! I was stunned. I thought perhaps they might be famous, because I don’t know much about boy bands. Testament to their ability, clearly! The Devils fans seemed to be enjoying themselves with one bloke getting up to strut his funky stuff, presumably unaware there was a camera pointing right at him. Great stuff. I hoped the cameraman would take it upon himself to fiddle with his brightness settings as the glare from the ice was hurting my brain a bit and I was almost forced to watch through sunglasses. Luckily, he did.

The 3rd period began amid a flurry of Tivo’ing (The Cube is far too good to be missed, you know!) and a second round of alcoholic beverages. The commentary team engaged in a thought-provoking discussion about Thommo possibly drugging Blaze players (scandal), the relative merits, or lack thereof, of Hitler moustaches, and what to do when a person cannot grow a moustache at all during Movember (Novembeards: note, I heartily approve). Despite the game hanging on the slimmest of margins, it was a quiet start to the third period. Cardiff went on the powerplay again but Blaze managed a better penalty kill to prevent their rivals scoring. There was a brilliant attempt on goal by Fulghum from Guthrie. Then a fabulous 5th for Devils, Voth taking a cool tap-in from Scott Dobben, covering well in defence.

Then it went a bit flat, and I was presented with my dinner. It was fajitas. They were a bit messy so couldn’t type as much. Er, sorry about that. Then it was nearly the end of the game and Blaze fans held their breath as Greg Owen scored a 4th for them with a minute to go, after they pulled their netminder. In return, Max Birbraer missed an empty net, a shocking yet hilarious miss which will no doubt have haunted him for at least 20 minutes. Really though, it was tense. With just 3 seconds to go the Blaze had a face-off in Cardiff’s zone and it was down to one last shot from Owen Fussey, whose stick proceeded to break with a mere second to go. It pretty much summed up the Blaze’s night.

So to conclude, I rather enjoyed my first living room Elite League viewing experience. I didn’t stick around long enough to catch the Men of the Match as I had X Factor results to catch up on (priorities and all that) but for me, the Devils had a number of strong performances, surely one of their defencemen would have to take it as they performed admirably despite being short-handed. For the Blaze I was massively impressed with Shea Guthrie, his speed and movement on the puck were as good as I’ve seen this season but his shooting could use some work. Mike McLean had a good game too, acquitting himself well all over the ice and making a number of key checks.

I appear to have talked a lot. If you’ve made it this far, many congratulations. I assume my next column will be a bit shorter as a result of this case of textual diarrhoea, so fear not! Or if you know me better than that, you know to expect a similar level of drivel. Tune in at your own risk! Until next time, goodbye my pretties!

The Nomad Speaks: Chapter 236 and a half. Ish.

Cross-posted from http://www.ukamericansportsfans.com/

I’m back. And I have to admit, I’m feeling a bit rusty. The lack of exposure to live hockey this season has left me withered and crusty, like a dried up piece of chewing gum stuck under a park bench, used up and forgotten about. God what rubbish I talk. Anyway, I had missed my hockey dearly: it was time to break my fast and a banquet was laid before me in the form of TWO live hockey matches in the fine city of Belfast, a glut that would surely fill me to the brim with wondrous hockey-related tales to impart to you, my poor deprived readers. I was expecting to go away plump and fully sated, content to wallow in the warm glow that my hockey travels would induce and ready to wait patiently for my next instalment.

DAY 1: Friday 11th November

Sadly, almost the exact opposite was to occur. Let’s start at the beginning. There was a plane journey, a bus ride through some truly biblical rain, and a quick pit-stop at our hotel base, before we were on our way to the Odyssey Arena for the first game in our double-headed Giants weekend, against Fife Flyers. I’ll get this out of the way right now: not only am I merely in my sophomore year as a hockey supporter, but I have seen but one live match this season, so despite viewing a selection of odd highlights on YouTube and a bevy of stats on the Elite League website, I feel I might as well be back to square one. I’m a hockey novice again. A nomadic one. A nov-mad. A person who should stop making up words. All that to say, my weekend was one of first impressions, whereas for everyone else, they will have seen their teams in action loads of times and will therefore potentially rubbish my opinions, and for that I wouldn’t blame them. But I’ll share my impressions anyway, because that’s what I do.

The game was a bit pants, really.

We weren’t expecting a great deal, in fairness. Belfast are a very strong side at home, and let’s face it, they’re top of the league. Under-funded and short of imports, and with Danny Stewart recently named club captain and Toms Hartmanis signed to lead the forward line, Fife have basically morphed into last season’s Vipers team, so I was undoubtedly feeling an amount of trepidation as to how they would fare against a notoriously tough Giants side. I’ll stop beating around the bush: we fully expected a rout. It became clear however that this was not what we were going to get. I’m not going to give a detailed match report but I will make a few comments.

I’d been really excited to see the new crop of Giants players in action but some of the key players were quiet for them against Fife, notably Adam Keefe who, although solid, didn’t put in a standout performance, aside from a lone incident which could have exploded into violence if it hadn’t been over before it started, Fife’s 29 mugged by the Giants tough guy, the player basically on the floor before Keefe could really get going. He just looked at the guy and he collapsed in a heap. Keefe’s that hard. Impressive for the Giants today were defenceman Jeff Mason and centre Darryl Lloyd, the latter being my favourite of the Belfast team, a feisty, speedy, blood-and-guts agitator who came out all guns blazing and laid down hits worthy of a guy twice his size. Following the controversy during the week following a questionable hit on former Viper Sam Zajac, Benoit Doucet, unpunished by the Elite League on review, bounced back to score a hattrick and looked one of Belfast’s strongest threats throughout the game.

The scoreline flatters to deceive – it was nowhere near as exciting as it sounds on paper; the home side, although not massively threatened by Fife, did not take the game by the short and curlies and the three goal difference belies the reality of a game in which neither side was overly dominant. At one point in the third period, Fife were on the powerplay and Toms Hartmanis had a fantastic one-on-one shooting opportunity which he just missed. Had he scored, he would have brought the scoreline to within one goal and the game could have genuinely have been turned on its head. As it was, Fife were stubborn but ineffectual in front of goal, the Danny Stewart fighting spirit certainly on show but the lack of strength in depth clear for all to see. And despite the lack of actual fights, the game itself was chippy, with both teams taking numerous penalties, and it threatened to blow up as the final buzzer sounded, the ensuing multi-player handbag-dropping session more exciting than pretty much the entire game.

So what of the former Vipers? As if to make us feel at home, Danny Stewart for some reason took up a spot in defence, and spent a large portion of the game on the ice, along with Toms Hartmanis who displayed the same level of skill and class he did at Whitley Bay last season. Us Viper fans in the audience were greeted with confusion and disdain in equal parts by the Giants faithful, who were presumably thrown by our jerseys in a sort of ‘is it in fact 2010’ déjà vu moment. It felt like something between being an alien species and invisible, which suited us fine, as we mingled with the locals and joined in with the songs, dance routines and general good humour, and what little went on on the ice was much less dramatic than the terrible discovery during the second period break that the entire building seemed to have run out of cider. (Never fear, I found a pint eventually at the last bar I visited – the relief was palpable all around the arena).

ULSTER FRY: I didn’t take any hockey photos because, well, I just didn’t. I wasn't feeling inspired. I have posted this instead which I could use as some kind of hockey metaphor, something to do with breaking eggs, being full of beans... It might get a bit suspect when referring to the relative lack of meat or the size of the sausage though. So I think I’ll just leave it.

DAY 2: Saturday 12th November

By the time game number two came around I was ready for some serious action. And by this, I mean I was literally chomping at the bit. I was so pumped I reckon I could have put in a couple of decent shifts on the ice myself. (Let’s all relish THAT image for a moment, shall we. OK, I’m going to move on now and never speak of such a thing again). Tonight’s opponents were the Cardiff Devils who were expected to be a tougher test for the home side; a decent contest was expected by all. However, as I’m starting to learn that it’s okay not to mince my words and I don’t have to please all of the people, all of the time, I’m going to be brutally honest.

The game was a bit pants, really.

I mean, it was a marginal improvement on yesterday. But it was still missing some major amounts of spark. The Devils were sloppy, giving up penalties haphazardly in the first two periods, but the Giants just couldn’t make the powerplay work for them. Cardiff’s penalty kill team along with a confident Stevie Lyle in goal reigned supreme, and a correctly disallowed goal in the first period took the wind out of Belfast’s sails somewhat. At the other end, Murphy was strong in the Giants goal, and Cardiff had very few shots on either, however the difference between the sides was accuracy, two coolly taken goals to the Giants’ single successful strike going on to be the final score.

I hate to sound bloodthirsty but honestly, what was missing in the game was some good old-time hockey violence. It hung in the air like an unspoken threat, riling the crowd (it wasn’t just me, I swears it), but was never acted upon, tough guys choosing to take a back seat and leaving us frustrated and without resolution, and me yet to see the infamous Keefe doing what he arguably does best, although I would have taken anything at that point; Brad Voth having a heated altercation with a goalpost would have done. Both teams are notoriously physical however I would have to say that our first view of the Braehead Clan some weeks ago left them looking comparatively like far more of a physical threat than either team on this particular night; interesting then that the Glasgow side went on to beat Cardiff in their own rink the following night.

So what of the rest of the action? A few minutes into the third period the game finally picked up, players seemingly realising they were supposed to try and win, Lloyd and Kuiper in particular laying on some big hits for the Giants and lifting their teammates’ spirits. The final two minutes were all Giants, as they frantically tried to level the scoreline and take the game to overtime, but it was not to be and they were left to suffer their third home defeat of the season.

Don’t get me wrong: the edge was in no way taken off my overall Belfast experience by the lack of quality hockey on offer. The Ulster fry was excellent, the company top notch, the dancing cheesy and the weather even able to put in a decent showing after the initial torrents of rain. Sadly, visiting hockey celebrity Simmsey never put in an appearance in Rockies, but the men in black and white stripes, who also put in a good performance on the ice, were on hand to provide drinks.

Okay so I haven’t written much about hockey, but I haven’t written much about facial hair either, remarkable given that we are in the throes of Movember and I had a collection of 50-odd new hockey player faces to inspect over the course of the two days. Rather than dulling my enthusiasm, the lacklustre matches – although failing to provide any real inspiration for my post – have served as a reminder of what I am missing, and that in turn has sparked a desire to put in more of an effort to follow the league once again. I miss hockey more now than ever before. The connection may be missing, and that’s a bitch, for sure, but the passion is still there. I just have to find a way to channel it. And my unhealthy and (worryingly) sharply increasing desire for violence is probably not the healthiest expression of it. Suggestions?

Till next time folks. Don’t forget about me! Tell me things about hockey! And to the Elite League clubs – for the love of God, film some highlights, PLEASE?! How hard can it be? Ta very much!