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!
No comments:
Post a Comment