Newcastle Vipers 2010/11: A Season in Review (or more accurately, a woman in disarray)

Some things have come to light over the last few days that have made me realise that in about 5 days’ time, I am going to be in serious trouble. What do we know about me already? That I’m a shameless beard-obsessed stalker with a southern accent, a penchant for large defencemen and fermented apple drinks, and a tendency to ramble on nonsensically. We also know from experience that I have numerous dependency issues, and these are what concern me. I have just experienced my first weekend in quite a significant length of time W.O.H.: With. Out. Hockey. And I didn’t like it. It was weird. And wrong. I sat around the house like a petulant teenager declaring everything to be 'boring'. Thankfully this weekend I have play-offs to look forward to but after that… what? The approaching void of the summer is looming large and I need to figure out something to fill it with, and fast. Here are the ideas I have come up with so far:

- Take up tennis/martial arts/marathon running/competitive cookie-baking (let's just re-cap on those thoughts - acceptable/dangerous/foolish/winning).

- Reverse hibernation. Wake me up in September? (A good idea in theory, but conversely I really like the sun)

- Actually learn to skate. (Being at Whitley Bay all the time probably wouldn’t be great for my mental health however).

- Do something mind-expanding. Like reading a… what are those paper things called with all the words in again? One of them, anyway.

- Take up amateur dramatics. I could so tread the boards, darling. Or I could express myself through the medium of contemporary dance. Or mime. Oh dear lord, anything but mime.

- Start gambling obsessively. (My dependent nature would really lend itself to this one! Any tips?)

Yes. As you can see, I haven’t gotten particularly far. But honestly, if I don’t find something of substance to occupy my mind, things could get messy in the cranial department. And that will probably result in me running away to Canada. Actually, there are no drawbacks to that plan. For now, at least, I will continue to indulge myself. Far from being ready to let go of the season that was, I have scraped together some final thoughts and ramblings of mine on the players, the season and the Vipers in general to finish on what I hope will be a slightly cheerier, if not more erratic, note than last week. Then I will let them go gracefully. And come back to you next week with news of Devils, Giants, Steelers and Panthers. Yes, it’s going to be an epic weekend in Nottingham. I can see the headlines now as I go MIA. ‘Katy Parles, Champion Beard Hunter! Last seen rampaging through the National Ice Centre screeching about play-off beards.’ Honestly, it was hard enough to cope with successfully blogging the comings and goings of ONE beard (enigmatic as said beard was). But play-offs actually have beards named after them! And ALL the players grow them. I’m going to have some kind of cardiac episode, I’m quite certain of it.

So what about this season then? Turbulent is probably an apt word. In fact, it had more ups and downs than a spritely gymnast after a crate-full of Red Bull, on a pogo stick, on a trampoline. Here is my summary of the season, in less than 300 words. It features some of my personal highlights and memories, and I hope it will remind you of some of yours.

The beginnings – feeling like an infant, instantly falling in love, the hyperactive fly effect… Chewiiiie… learning the offside rule again… skating face first… Dale Mahovsky’s teeth… Scott Langdon – ‘chippy’… Sammy taking on Brad Voth (Behemoth)… Drive for Five… Alex Penner being psychotic… my first ever hockey jersey… third period collapses… bench clearance in Coventry… the turning point – Danny’s Dozen beating Coventry at home… CHARLIE! CHARLIE CHARLIE!... cheating on football with ice hockey… double figures over Dundee… financial peril – and lots of it… stupid superstitions… ice hockey community spirit... the mass exodus in December - of players AND hair… the relief of finding out we would last the season… that win in Belfast… TWO wins over Nottingham – now that’s what I call Sexy Neilson Hockey… THAT goal by John Schwarz… Mike Prpich’s beard… and the continuing hunt for it… Danny’s slapshot… Ninja Rzeszutko… Hartmanis’ speed… wanting to mother hockey players… not enough D men… innuendos in the corporate lounge… Sammy's gonna get ya… learning Geordie... Dean Holland – the People’s Choice… Dan Pye massive, learning to shout at match officials… HAVING to shout at them – a lot… learning just about everything else I know about ice hockey (thanks Kev!)… making some great friends, the cider, the laughs, the dancing, the gossip, the nonsense, the chants… ‘howaaaay’… the Effinger Pounce… discovering Rockies bar... Big Friendly Giants... Whitley Bay love... tears and cheers... Dundee being smelly... saying goodbye in style – We’ll Meet Again

To add to his ever-growing list of skills (which mainly features various outstanding hair-sprouting abilities), Mike Prpich can add the ability to grow a Dundee Stars player from his back. Impressive stuff.

I told you this was going to be erratic.

Bearing in mind how lost I was after the departure of Dale Mahovsky, I am concerned about my emotional well-being now, as I’ve become so fond of all of our players, it’s like losing him 10 times over. Except worse, as I’ve had an extra three months to become attached to them. Each and every one of those players is dear to me and will always have a special place in my heart. Aww. Group hug.

Even though they are all destined to go their separate ways in the coming weeks, and I have to resist the overwhelming urge to sort of round them up and put them in a pen, like a collection of wayward sheep, I will graciously let them run free in the world, but not before first spending some time remembering these wonderful individuals who made our season what it was. I’ll start with those who didn’t complete the season, before moving onto thank the stalwarts (really, is ice hockey so fleeting and ephemeral that sticking around in one place for seven months classes as a long-term commitment? That’s a whinge for another blog post. Anyway, on with the show…)

One of my favourite photos of the season. So worrying, I do not have a single amusing caption to go with it. But please note, there are three hockey players in this photo. Two of them are Vipers. Can you spot them?

To the dearly departed…

Rob Wilson – like ships in the night, our paths never crossed. Please insert relevant comment here: _____________________________________

Blair Stayzer – tall, dark, tanned and lazy, he was ice hockey’s equivalent of David Dickinson, playing ice hockey.

Scott Langdon – sing along: 'he’s big, he’s hard, he left us short in defence to go back to North America which was a bit rubbish but never mind…'? Work with me here, people.

Dan Speer – showed signs of life at times but didn't seem to gel. It’s fine Dan, we get it. Not everyone appreciates the beauty of a good stottie or a fine ice facility such as Whitley Bay.

Nathan Salem – did not play much of a role before heading off to play for the Northern Stars.

Nick Duff – like a ghost at a sceptic seance, he never appeared.

Jamie Carroll – good dude. Couldn’t shake the feeling that at any moment he might stop skating, throw down his helmet and bust out a version of ‘The Real Slim Shady’, though.

Dale Mahovsky – the dirty, dirty splitter (it’s fine. I’m SO over him. I didn’t nearly go on strike when they gave the number 91 jersey to someone else or anything. Nope).

Patrik Forsbacka – sneaked out the back door like the big Finnish wookie-alike sneaker that he is. I shake my fist at him. And then run away.

And to those who stayed ‘til the bitter end…

Charlie Effinger – what can I say about Charlie other than CHARLIE! CHARLIE! CHARLIE! Most improved player, netminder extraordinaire and the heart and soul of the team.

Liam McAllister – a worthy back-up to Charlie and a cheeky chappy to boot. Guy likes to eat a lot of sandwiches.

Kyle Sibley – teeny, tiny, super-speedy, likes to attack from defence. He’s the Ashley Cole of the Vipers. Except not a massive idiot.

John Schwarz – had an interesting season which started out fairly anonymously, had a bit of injury in the middle and then he became an immense paragon of awesomeness. Goal against Panthers was the highlight of the season. Then he got injured (again). And morphed into a younger version of Fabio Capello.

Sammy Zajac – heart of a lion in the body of a ferret. Or something along those lines. No-one worked harder. Or fought more people over three times their size. Dude.

Danny Stewart – played almost a full season out of position and had some hairy (ish!) moments as a result, but more than made up for it with his tenacity, never-say-die attitude and coaching awesomeness.

Mike Prpich – together we embarked on a journey of beard-worship that transcended space and time. But it appears that after starting in a blaze of bearded glory, he has chosen to end the season without the blessed thing. It was last seen swiftly exiting the building wearing a disguise. Come to think of it, what would a beard wear as a disguise, do you think? A face?! Farewell, sweet beard! ‘Til we meet again!

Jaroslaw Rzeszutko – Ninja. What else can be said about this guy. Super-fast goal-machine. People couldn’t spell his name. I hope he didn’t mind too much.

Toms Hartmanis – incredible skater, great forward. Between him, Jaro and Prpich they almost single-handedly ensured we scored some goals. Thank goodness.

Dean Holland – the People’s Choice.

Paul Sample – Vipers Captain, a fairly quiet season but he steadied the ship and led from the front.

Jamie Tinsley – hard-working, dedicated, saw a lot of ice in the second half of the season and did very little wrong.

And the Whitley Warriors and Northern Stars who bolstered our numbers on occasion, notable mentions to Adam Reynolds and Dan Pye. Thank you!

The 2010/1 season: the vital statistics:

My Viper stats: 9 wins 15 defeats – No. of streaks – 0 (it was too cold for that business).
Number of teeth lost – 5 (that I noticed!)

Number of beards grown – 695 – averages approximately 49 beards per Viper. Sort of. That’s about 8 each a month. Sounds about right, doesn’t it?

Goals scored – some

Goals conceded – more

Penalties – loads

Fights – several

Going - got tough

Tough - got going

Ciders – 53 (at least)

Unrequited cuddles for injured players – 83

SexyNeilsonHockey – 200%

Dancing – poor

Cheering – loud

Spirit – fighting

Memories – a lifetime’s worth

Thanks again for reading, everybody. It's been a pleasure to share this journey with you. Here's hoping I'll be back next year with more juicy Vipers fruit for your delectation. I'll say no more on that matter for now! But please come back next week for my play-off review! Marvel as I attempt to remember four whole other sets of players and compare and contrast their beards! Gasp in wonder as I single-handedly dissect the weekend's hockey action despite excessive apple juice consumption! Shudder as I recount in vivid detail the pain and agony of my final hockey withdrawal symptoms! And other such jollities! See you then!

Fat cats silenced by feisty underdogs

(Someone call the Sun, I'm a tabloid headline-writer in waiting).

You can roll out the David v Goliath, Blackpool v Manchester United or even '300' comparisons ‘til the cows come home, because in Elite League hockey terms, Newcastle Vipers v Nottingham Panthers really does fall into that classic minnows versus giants category, but still nothing can really prepare you for coming face to face with such a scenario, and the feelings that you get when you’re on the winning side.

The first leg of the Challenge Cup semi-final was the occasion, Hillheads was the place, and when the two sides took to the ice you’d have been hard-pushed to come up with any possible outcome for the match other than an away win. Clad all in black, every single Panthers player looked about twice the size of the Vipers, and there were oh, so many of them. It was tragically comical watching the two sides skate around their respective halves of ice, the Panthers all but filling theirs, menacingly pacing their way around the rink and then struggling to fit their huge squad onto their bench. We basically had a football team’s worth of players, plus a couple of subs. It was a familiar story, and considering the two sides had met at Whitley Bay just three short weeks ago, with the result a resounding 11-4 in favour of the Panthers, the small crowd of dedicated supporters in attendance were right to fear a similarly dismal evening.

The game started out sluggishly but quickly picked up tempo with the Panthers doing all the pressing, imposing the physical side of their game on the Vipers and forcing the home side to defend. And defend we did, rising to the challenge and only conceding a single goal in the first period, and also managing to almost knock out one of the Panthers with a shot which was so loud, it sounded as though it had hit the post, but on closer inspection, had instead hit the number 21, right in the kisser. Ouch, and stuff. I hope someone grabbed the teeth that he must inevitably have lost, to add to Mahovsky’s – we’ll have enough for a full set of dentures soon!

Panthers players don’t get out of bed for less than £50, allegedly. Well Vipers don’t get out of bed for less than 50p, but luckily the fans had a whip-round and they all turned up in the second period, coming out all guns blazing and stunning the Panthers with their desire and intensity. Despite conceding another goal, the reply came almost instantly from Kyle Sibley and from then on, we were unstoppable. It was the 20 minutes of hockey from your wildest dreams, as we broke down the Panthers defences time and again, playing exciting and creative attacking hockey and neutralising any traffic going the opposite way. Mike (the Beard) Prpich and Dean Holland (the People’s Choice) netted one apiece before the highlight of the period, a spectacular individual effort from Toms Hartmanis. Seriously, the guy has an astonishing turn of pace, and he left the Panthers helpless in his midst as he carved through them and shot home to give the feisty Vipers a 4-2 lead.

A 6-goal turnaround in one period against a team of the Panthers’ calibre is not to be sniffed at, and the Panthers were understandably frustrated, bringing out the dirty tactics; Lepine laid Paul Sample out with one punch and was lucky to get away with two minutes for roughing. Even mild-mannered David Clarke got into a little fracas with the usually equally quiet Jaro Rzeszutko. It started out like a pair of girls having a scrap over the last handbag in the shop; it was clear neither guy really wanted to be involved in a fight, you could almost hear the conversation that might have gone on between the two had there been time:

Jaro: Er, I’m very angry with you!
Clarke: Um, yes, I feel similarly disgruntled. Do you think we should perhaps throw our helmets to the ground in a display of mutual intent to have a bit of a tiff?
Jaro: Right then. On the count of three?

Clarke: After you.

Jaro: No, after you, I insist.

It was quite sweet really.

Oh hi there Panthers player-coach Corey Neilson! Why, whatever’s the matter? That looks like the face of a man who had four goals scored against him by little old Newcastle Vipers! Oh, it IS? That must have stung. I’m very sorry, let’s pretend I didn’t mention it, mmmkay?

Third period. Are you still with me? You haven’t dropped something substantial on your toe in shock at the scoreline? Well man up. Take the pain! We’re moving into the crucial period here! Pay attention, fools! So what happened then? The poor Panthers didn’t seem to like losing and resorted to some less than savoury tactics, getting at the Vipers whenever and wherever they could and mostly getting away with it. But we weathered the storm and only conceded once more. Thanks for that largely rest on the not inconsiderable padded shoulders of Charlie Effinger, who made the save of his life with just a few minutes left to play in the game. He threw himself to the ground and clawed the puck off the line with the tip of his glove whilst at full stretch.

It really was a fingertip between us and a tied scoreline, and like the news reaching Parliament that David Cameron is lost in Iceland and was last seen near a large hill with a hole in the top of it, the save was greeted with a collective sigh of relief and a cheer so loud it echoed around the four corners of the rink. The Panthers scrapped their way through to the dying seconds but by then it didn’t matter, the win was sealed and the Vipers take the slenderest of leads back to Nottingham for the return leg on Sunday. Their fans may not give us a cat in hell's chance of repeating the feat we pulled off on Wednesday, but fur will fly, and there will be no pussy-footing around. Because there's more than one way to skin a cat (seriously, has someone called the Sun for me, yet?)

Mike Prpich and Danny Stewart have the cast of Dancing on Ice quaking in their boots with this impromptu rendition of the Bolero. You should have seen the lift!

You’ll all be fascinated and proud to know that I cut down on my drinking at the match because it was a school night. I only had two pints instead of three. Check my willpower! That's not to say I didn't want another one though, to toast another fantastic achievement by Danny Stewart and his team, triumphing over the big rich mean Panthers. Who needs 19 men? Pah. I laugh in the face of your 19 men. How big is an ice rink anyway? The heart shown by the Vipers on Wednesday night more than made up for any discrepancies in squad numbers, wages, NHL pedigrees or spangly ice centres. And who’s going to remember those when they look back at their highlights from the season and have a performance like ours to reminisce about? Certainly not me. It may be true that money talks – but on a night like this, it’s barely a whisper.

In a galaxy far, far away…

A Tuesday night in December. Two degrees below zero. The nation, a frozen wasteland, still gripped by the stranglehold of arctic weather conditions, struggles to go about its daily business. Ravaged roads impassable, traffic at a standstill, yet still a band of dedicated individuals makes the pilgrimage to witness another instalment in the battle on ice. Filled with childlike hope they brave the elements to gather in the icy cold arena and play their part in resisting the marauding forces from north of the border.

My fingers have been literally itching to pour forth my thoughts on Tuesday night’s match against Dundee but I have been trying my best to rein them in. ‘Let the dust settle, Katy,’ I told myself. ‘No need to rush headlong into every match report as if what happened will no longer be true if you don’t write about it within 24 hours.’ It’s just that this time, I can’t actually believe it’s true in the first place.

Let’s try typing out the first few words and just see how they sound.

The Vipers were taking on Dundee Stars in a Challenge Cup Game. Hopes were high following our close call with them up in Dundee on Saturday. The game began. We went three goals up in the first minute and a half.

Haha, that’s a good one.

No, really.

Noooo.

Yes.

And it didn’t end there. Just like the first time I ever went to a hockey match, I was once again happy and confused. Only this time it wasn’t because I didn’t have a clue what was happening. The goals were going in so fast there was barely time to figure out who had scored before the next one was slotted away. Many a conspiracy theory was concocted as to how we could possibly be doing so well. It was posited that the size of the goal mouth had been covertly increased, or perhaps that a team of ringers had been put in to play whilst our team were put into cryogenic stasis to repair their battered and broken bodies. Or perhaps we had just crossed over into a parallel universe where our team scores for fun, and we went merrily barrelling towards a cricket score of a result.

More likely, a combination of it being a meaningless match for Dundee, due to their inability to progress in the Cup, and their subsequent decision to field some of their weaker players, along with the Vipers coming out all guns blazing – literally as if they hadn’t stopped moving since Sunday night’s victory – might more accurately explain our good fortune. That’s not to take anything away from the guys. Dundee still had their pride to play for; second string or not, these are still Elite League hockey players. Putting in their back-up net-minder may have seemed as though they were gift-wrapping the game for us, as we scythed open hole after hole in the hapless goalie’s defences, but there were still five other opposing players out there on the ice, and they weren’t just laying down.

And so the first period ended, and we were 7-1 up. Disbelief mingled with euphoria was the over-riding feeling; it was bit like being given some cake, AND being allowed to eat it (and as we all well know, those two things are mutually exclusive). I overheard one fan complain to another during the first period break, ‘it’s a bit one-sided, isn’t it?’ and I found myself smiling wryly at the irony. What we wouldn’t have given for it to be a bit one-sided just a few short weeks ago. The game continued to go our way in the second and third periods, albeit not in quite such a frantic manner, and we cruised to an 11-4 victory. Of course it lacked the drama of some of our previous encounters, but a big fat win is a big fat win, and not to be sniffed at.

This is a scoreboard. It tells no lies. (Photo courtesy of Dave Wright)

Struggling as we have been to produce enough in front of goal, tonight the Vipers forwards were unstoppable. It was hard to pick out a top performer, with Toms Hartmanis scoring a hat-trick, Prpich, Mahovsky and Rzeszutko all on a brace, and a pair of Jamies – Carroll and Tinsley – completing the score-card. Home debutante, Whitley Warriors captain Adam Reynolds, proved himself to be a canny signing, skating well, putting himself about a bit and getting stuck into the action. A promising start.

Mike Prpich Beard Watch: It’s still missing. The public are warned to stay vigilant.

The former purveyor of fine facial hair, despite his errant chin adornment, picked up man of the match, but it would have been hard to choose between them (what a nice position that is to be in!). However my man of the evening had to be Jaro Rzeszutko. The guy is an absolute ninja. His speed is frankly alarming and he pushes forward with the intensity of a starving cheetah on his way to a half price sale at the Wildebeest Warehouse. The goalie must have been soiling himself every time Jaro gained possession of the puck. He also did a little dance after one of his goals. Smooth. I love a good goal celebration, me.

To add to the tale of woe as far as our reduced squad numbers are concerned, John Schwarz was felled tonight by something or someone (in a mystery ‘off-the-puck’ incident – I’m still in the dark as to what it was) and he didn’t reappear after that; Dean Holland also went off early with an injury which meant we ended the match with just 11 skaters. Even less than on Sunday. I’m liking this new, slim-line version of the Vipers. Who needs 18 players anyway? It’s just unnecessary. Dead weight. I do feel a bit sorry for Danny Stewart though. He’s been playing out of position for weeks now and every time one defenceman returns from injury, we lose another. He must be cursing his luck (whilst becoming rather a good defenceman!).

I don’t know why but I’m struggling to say anything more about the game, and I’m not normally one to struggle with words. I think I'm failing the grasp the sheer enormity of the victory; it still feels no more real than a pleasant dream or a far-fetched fairytale. Maybe it’s because Dundee were gracious in defeat, and having made the effort to come down knowing how important the match was for the club, I can’t crow about our victory in the same way I would if we had beaten say, the Nottingham Panthers. Or maybe it’s because the uncertainty surrounding the club’s future persists in casting an ominous shadow even in our moments of glory. Regardless of what is going on off the ice, I can’t fail to comment on the players themselves, and how tight they seem to be as a unit, and what nice guys. They look happy to be in each other’s company, which is so good to see. It makes one feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

In reality, I’ve probably run out of things to say because I’m not used to all this winning. It’s tiring me out. I think I’m going to have a nice lie down and try to dream up some new ways of saying ‘we were awesome’ before the weekend. Here’s hoping I’ll need them!