A Tale of Two Hockey Matches - Part 3

Drive for 5 Special: as a final homage to our promotional weekend, here is my bunch of fives.

5 star players (in no particular order).

1. Toms Hartmanis – Saturday’s man of the match. Scored a great goal and always pleasure to watch.

2. Scott Langdon – Sunday’s man of the match. Put himself about and took matters into his own hands on several occasions, taking a few very respectable shots on goal and bossing the defence.

3. Dale Mahovksy – always a strong, quick presence for the team. Scored a goal and got a bit aggro against Hull which was quite fun. Managed not to rip my sponsored jersey which was much appreciated (it’s an investment! I considered having ‘My First Hockey Jersey’ printed on the back but thought it might be a bit embarrassing for the poor boy, who already had to deal with having the words ‘Hockey Novice’ emblazoned across his bottom. Sorry about that, Dale).

4. Danny Stewart – a strong leader’s performance from the coach, capped by a superb goal against Nottingham. Anti-Penner Face of Steel™

5. Charlie Effinger – I’ve always had a soft spot for goalies. They’re a bit mental, see. Hockey goalies, more so than most. In the blame culture of modern sport they all too often seem to take the fall for a poor team performance. Even if they do have an off-day, I don’t like seeing one player being blamed for collective team failings. Especially when they appear to be thoroughly pleasant chaps. All that to say, I just want to give Charlie a cuddle. He had two really solid periods on Saturday, pulled some cracking saves out of the bag, and wasn’t at fault for us losing either game.

5 noob moments. After all, that’s why you’re really reading this, isn’t it!

1. Screaming at the ref until I realised I didn’t actually know what to say. I was shouting ‘penalty’, football-style, before I realised it wasn’t really relevant. I just wanted to be a part of it all!

2. Thinking ‘ah, bless’ on two separate occasions when the two guys behind me were wondering what was going on. Until I realised I didn’t either.

3. Nodding pensively whilst being schooled in the theory of the offside rule, but not actually getting it until the following morning, whilst in the shower. The penny did drop. Just very, very slowly. And from a great height.

4. The ‘dog with tennis ball’ effect that still happens to me all the time. You know, when you throw a ball for a dog. But you totally fake him out, and you’re still holding the ball, but he’s racing down the field already? That. Except with my eyes, and the puck. You know what I’m talking about, veteran hockey fans. Don’t pretend it doesn’t still happen to you, on occasion!

5. Once again, clapping when I had no idea what was going on. I must try to stop that. In fairness, it’s usually because of an obscured line of sight and just wanting to get behind the team! That’s forgiveable, right?

5 things that hurt.

1. Danny Stewart’s face (after being poked in it, by Penner’s stick)
2. Jamie Carroll’s face (after being punched in it, by Penner)
3. The Panthers player who was hit by Mike Prpich (after all, a man with that beard has to hit twice as hard as a normal human being, right? Just look at Chuck Norris)
4. Sammy Zajac’s knee (I think – he limped off on Sunday after being caught with a puck)
5. Er, my brain. Trying to come up with more things to write lists of 5 about.

Number of times I knew what was going on – 5. Nah, only kidding. It was 4.

5 highlights.

1. Danny Stewart’s short-handed goal v Nottingham
2. Mike Prpich throwing down the gloves against a mean Panthers side
3. Dirty Alex Penner getting his marching orders
4. The first period on Saturday (let’s pretend the rest of that match didn’t occur)
5. Cheering the players off on Sunday despite losing.

5 things that were funny.

1. A Hull player slipped past our defence and was one-on-one with Charlie – cue collective dramatic gasp – he levelled up, took a shot and… his stick broke, the head flying off behind the goal and the puck bimbling aimlessly out of danger. Brilliant.

2. Hull’s number 26, not blessed with height, who had his shirt tucked into his shorts and his shorts actually pulled up to his nipples. Trend-setting? I don’t think so.

3. One of the match officials actually escorting a Hull player from the ice by his ear. Well, it looked like it. ‘Sit down for two minutes and think about what you’ve done young man!’

4. The swagger on display from the midget gem teams that did their stuff in the breaks between periods on Saturday. So very cute.

5. Er, the Hull game stopped being funny after a while. And the Nottingham game was too dramatic to be funny!

5 things of wonder.

1. Mike Prpich’s beard. Really, just, wow.
2. Mike Prpich’s sideburns. You need sideburns like that to maintain the structural integrity of such a beard.
3. Um. What else? I don’t think anything can compare, to be honest.

5 things that were cold.

1. FIVE things?! Well, let’s start with the fingers on my right hand. And move on from there...

Top 5 skaters (in a purely aesthetic, Strictly Come Dancing on Ice kind of way).

1. Toms Hartmanis – so pretty
2. Dan Speer – super speedy. I feel with the news of his departure I need to add RIP or something, but he's not actually dead thankfully, so I'll just say goodbye and good luck. Shame.
3. Dale Mahovsky – pretty and speedy

4. Jaro Rzeszutko – ditto
5. Kyle Sibley – he didn’t even play. But he’s awesome at skating so I felt bad excluding him from my list.

The weekend, in 5 pictures.

Danny Stewart on Saturday night: Cheer up Coach, there’s always tomorrow

Prpich’s beard – compare with the picture from the Hull game, and tell me it did not grow overnight

Curling vigorously – tell me that’s not what it looks like

That’s my shirt that is

Chippy – apparently that means lots of grown men prodding, slamming and punching each other repeatedly. Yup.

A Tale of Two Hockey Matches - Part 2

Act Two – Sunday 21st November v Nottingham Panthers

Cue music. And the music is, for some reason, the opening to 2001: A Space Odyssey. It just seems fitting. The protagonist returns to the scene of last night’s crime, hoping for a reprieve. Yesterday the architects of their own downfall, today is an opportunity for the heavily-padded men to take matters into their own hands, against a mighty nemesis. Who will prevail? Only time will tell...

Yesterday’s game could have been described as winnable. Today’s, not so much. It was a David vs Goliath-type encounter, Arsenal v Dagenham and Redbridge, if you’ll excuse another footballing reference; a mammoth challenge for the Vipers and a match in which most fans would expect a rout.

The Panthers set their stall out early, conceding their first penalty after just 11 seconds, and it set the tone for the entire match. They were a massive physical presence, and the match was what could best be described as ‘chippy’ (thanks to Scott Langdon for that most fitting of descriptive terms, which I shall be borrowing indefinitely), but the Vipers gave as good as they got in the first period, and the crowd were behind them all the way. The Panthers seemed to revel in their pantomime villain role, conceding one penalty after another, notorious hard-man Alex Penner being sent off for the entire match after an incident which occurred right in front of me, in which he jabbed Vipers coach Danny Stewart twice in the face with his stick before punching Jamie Carroll. Charming! Penner has been described as an ‘ex-weapon’; what that specifically means, I don’t know, but It seems to translate roughly as ‘bit of an idiot’ as far as I can tell (please, please don’t tell him I said that. The guy is clearly unhinged. And I’m scared). New Viper Mike Prpich decided he meant business and threw himself into the action too, picking up a five minute major for fighting just a couple of minutes in. I think his beard might actually have grown since yesterday, so maybe it was weighing him down a bit. Or perhaps a small family of wood mice have moved into it. That would be annoying, right?

A moment of indecision as the puck tries to work out which is the lesser of three evils; a Viper, a Panther or a Match Official

The atmosphere was fantastic, rising and bubbling over both on and off the ice, the flames further fanned by what, even to a novice, appeared to be a relatively poor refereeing performance. I was caught up in the collective disapproval, which was possibly not for the best, as I tend to go rather high-pitched when indignant and end up screeching like a girl. Which is bad enough when I know what I’m talking about but as you will no doubt be realising by now, when it comes to hockey, I don’t really, and during Sunday’s match it just descended (or should I say, ascended) into angry squeaking. I suddenly realised I sounded like a hormonal rodent. So I stopped.

It really was a ‘proper’ hockey match though. And in a beautiful moment of recognition, I happened to tune into a conversation going on behind me between two dudes who were quite clearly attending their first ever game. I’m not sure where they were from but I thought I heard a hint of Aussie so in my head, that’s what they will be. Overheard:

1st newbie: ‘so what happened there then?’
2nd newbie: ‘I’ve absolutely no idea mate! I like it though!’
1st newbie: ‘Surely he’s not allowed to do that?!’
2nd newbie: ‘I dunno mate! But this is my kinda sport!’

I could hear the glee in the voice of newbie number 2 in particular. It had switched on the same light in his brain that went on in mine back in early October. But now I was the one who knew what was going on. I felt all, sort of, wise. It didn’t last long however, as a collection of players gathered in a corner of the rink and began to do that thing that looks like they are curling, vigorously. All scrubbing the ice together trying to wrest the puck from one another. There must be a more dignified way to get around that problem. No? Ah well. It makes me laugh, it all looks very pedestrian. Until someone gets an elbow in the chops. But anyway.

Oh, did you want to know what actually happened in the match? Sorry folks, I was too busy booing and things to really pay attention to the hockey. It was jolly good fun for a while. Until the Panthers went a bit over-board with their below-the-belt tactics, and a few key decisions seemed to go awry, and then all of sudden, the nightmare scenario once again reared its ugly head. The third period started. And lo and behold, we quickly conceded two goals and suddenly we were trailing and the Panthers were able to put the game to bed, despite an excellent late goal from Danny Stewart and continued battling from the feisty Vipers. The game had more fizz than an Alka Seltzer in a Diet Coke jacuzzi. And despite falling behind, the guys never gave up, battling to the end, and giving the fans something to shout about once again.

Prior to the Hull match I was quite concerned about next weekend’s break, and the fact that I would be missing out on my regular hockey fix. After the Hull match I was actually quite relieved. Now, I’m back to concern again. I have the jitters already. I need more! Call the emergency services! I’ve contracted an acute case of ice hockey. I fear it’s terminal.

And so the final curtain falls. Brave in defeat, the heavily-padded men can be proud of their achievements against the mighty nemesis, and can go away with their heads held high. Our protagonist feels once again cautiously optimistic, and carries the vestiges of battle away with her as a symbol of the good fight. And also because she’d paid for it and it had her website on the back. Yes.

Fin

PS Stay tuned - part 3 is up shortly! I know, I know, technically there isn't a part 3 as I've covered both matches already. It's a special post featuring lots of lists of 5!! Trust me, it's going to be more fun than it sounds. If not, you can have your money back. What, you didn't PAY to get onto this blog? I need to have words with the management...

A Tale of Two Hockey Matches - Part 1

Right then. Do I have your full and undivided attention, readers? We’ve a lot to get through, so make yourselves comfortable and I’ll begin. Sad to say there’s no Jackanory happy ending in sight here, so I’ll extinguish that hopeful dream before we get started. I’ve retreated to my happy place (this blog) and I urge you all to join me, in the hope it will ease the pain, at least for a few minutes.

This weekend was the Drive for Five promotion – two home games in one weekend, and a massive effort from all involved with the club to get as many fans through the door over both days as possible. Let’s take it one day at a time, and in true Shakespearian fashion (for some inexplicable reason my inner English student just won't let this theme drop), here beginneth...

Act One – Saturday 20th November v Hull Stingrays

We join our protagonist on a wet and chilly evening, at a dark and dingy ice rink in a north-east coastal town. Her face, like so many others around her, full of hope and expectancy. Enter stage right numerous men on skates, heavily padded and carrying sticks. The scene unfolds…

Warning: I may start to become coherent. I located myself with a group of most welcoming hardcore Vipers faithful for this match which was a good move, I quickly realised. I think I might actually understand the offside rule now! And you know what? It’s almost exactly the same as it is in football. Who’d have thunk it.

This was widely recognised as the more winnable of the weekend’s two matches, and to bolster the line-up new Canadian forward Mike Prpich (somebody lend the guy a vowel!) was finally available, having arrived mid-week, along with defencemen John Schwarz, returning after injury. Although we had lost Kyle Sibley through injury, so our defence were pretty much ‘as you were’.

My initial impressions of Prpich: fairly hard-hitting; awesome, awesome facial hair. He wasn’t massively influential but the guy only got here Thursday so let’s cut him some slack.

Mike Prpich, above.

No Mike, it is WE who must kneel before YOU. After all, one cannot argue with that beard. That’s a woodcutter’s beard if ever I’ve seen one. There are goats in the alps that are weeping into their milkmaids’ skirts over that beard.

What can I say about the game itself. It all started so well. We were a goal up within two minutes and then two up, er, a bit after that. To coin a popular footballing cliché, albeit in a slightly warped fashion, it was a game of three thirds. The final one being, well, shocking. In the first two we were totally dominant. Hull didn’t turn up, we skated all over them, and any shots they did have were confidently caught or parried by a seemingly revitalised Charlie Effinger. No worries. All this, on top of last week’s win, made me a bit giddy. I started to feel almost complacent. We had this in the bag.

And then they came out for the third period. And it was as though something had gone missing. Quite what it was, I couldn’t put my finger on. Although honestly, if you’d told me it was about three players, I wouldn’t have been surprised. The spark was just... not there any more. Hull exposed our flaws, and capitalised. They carved us open, and we stood back and let them. We served it to them on a silver platter, garnished with a giant helping of ‘terribly sorry for inconveniencing you with those two goals we scored earlier on chaps, please do have the points, we wouldn’t wish to burden you with our tiresome presence any longer. And how about a cherry to go on top of that for you, sirs?’

So I’ve experienced it all now. The game we deserved to win, and just about managed to hang on to. The game we maybe didn’t deserve to win, but scraped through to take the points anyway. The game we never had any hope of winning, but battled through and went down fighting. And the game where we were solidly trounced from start to finish. And to add to this motley collection, I now have the lowest of all rungs on the ladder of possible game stories – the game we were totally capable of winning, but threw away. The comedy of errors. An expert demonstration in how to turn a perfectly comfortable two-goal lead into what, on paper, looks like a convincing win for the opposition. It was desperately disappointing, especially with a game on the horizon against one of the hardest teams in the league. On which note, I’ll move swiftly on, as I have a feeling that despite this, I will have much more jolly things to impart to you tomorrow.

A dark mood prevails over the auditorium as the lights fade to black and the curtain is drawn on the first half of the action. Where will the Vipers go from here? Can they claw back their shattered confidence and start over in Act Two? Will our protagonist succeed in her quest to shout something constructive at a team member, at ANY point? All will be revealed...

Interval

Some time passed, between one hockey game and the next. Some DIY went on in my house. Some bacon sandwiches were consumed. Some beer also. A bit of sleeping went on. Some football was watched in a vague attempt to remember what watching other sports used to be like. Apparently, Chelsea have started losing. To Birmingham City. All is seemingly not right with the world.

*Alarm Bells* Please take your seats and switch off all mobile phones. The next Act will begin in 5 minutes (please note, when I say five minutes, I mean, maybe, several hours. I do have a day job, y'know! I'm speeding through the next match report as we speak. See you there!).

When Katy met Vipers...

Sorry, me again! Just one final post before this weekend's action, to let you all know that the crazy, crazy fools from Vipers management let me loose at the press day they held on Tuesday in aid of the Drive for Five promotion (what were they thinking?!). It was a much calmer, more sedate affair than expected (mostly due to the fact that I was too nervous to actually launch myself at anyone) and I managed to get some pretty good material which is now kindly being hosted on the Vipers website, under Vipers Hockey Radio. Linkage:

http://www.vipershockey.co.uk/vipers-hockey-radio.html

Alternatively, you can download the interview of your choice, or all three (oh baby) straight from Rapidshare, links below.

As will become eminently clear, writing is my most natural and comfortable form of communication, and I haven't actually interviewed anyone for a good six years or so, since my Birmingham days when I used to interview rock and metal bands for my radio show there. I grappled manfully with some audio editing software but I'm not a techie, so sorry if they're a bit up and down. Plus I had a cold. But anyway, enough of my blabbering excuses, here for your listening pleasure are three real live hockey players talking, occasionally interrupted by a stuttering, snot-ridden Southerner. Nice!

Danny Stewart - http://rapidshare.com/files/431983010/Danny_Stewart_161110.mp3

Scott Langdon - http://rapidshare.com/files/431983621/Scott_Langdon_161110.mp3
Jamie Carroll - http://rapidshare.com/files/431983363/Jamie_Carroll_161110.mp3

I did have all sorts of grand ideas about asking them silly questions and making some kind of Hockey Novice feature out of it, but I lost my bottle on the day, the gravity of the situation getting to me, and I ended up asking lots of serious and relevant questions like a proper journalist. Well, mostly. Sorry about that - I'll do better next time, if they ever agree to let me anywhere near real hockey players again.

Thanks to everyone for being so nice to me, it was much appreciated. And so, onward we go into the Drive for Five promotion. For those of you who don't know what this entails, it's two ice hockey matches. In one weekend. Yes, I'm a bit excited. See you all at the rink. LET'S GO VIPERS!

KT-Dude and the Hockey Team of Doom

Once upon a time, there was a girl called KT. She lived a happy life and would happily go about her daily business like all the other good and simple folk of the land. But, like many of these good and simple folk who had gone before her, KT was blissfully unaware that a mysterious and exciting and magical world existed right under her very nose. That world was the sport of ice hockey. It was a world that was known only to the few, but those few were lucky, for it was a world that was thrilling and intense and tumultuous. This world was inhabited by a team called the Newcastle Vipers and one day, quite by chance, KT stumbled upon the Newcastle Vipers at their home in Whitley Bay.

The first time KT ever laid eyes on this team she knew she was destined to belong to them, as even though they were poor and lived in a place that was small and cold and dark, they were young and fast and strong and valiant, and worked hard every day. There were lots of other teams to choose from in the magical world of ice hockey, and they were all bigger and better and shinier and richer, but KT didn’t care about those things, for the Vipers had already won her heart.

Now all she needed was to see them succeed in their endeavours, just once, to know that she had made the right decision, so she left behind her daily business and spent every weekend in the mysterious and exciting and magical world of ice hockey, hoping and praying and cheering and supporting her beloved team, but to no avail. Week after week, the bigger and better and shinier and richer teams came and sieged the home of the Vipers and laid them to waste, and when the Vipers went to their fortresses to try to retaliate, they were beaten down again and again.

Until one day, after many weeks of pain and frustration and heartbreak and despair, the Vipers faced the team from Edinburgh. The team from Edinburgh weren’t quite as big and shiny and rich as some of the other teams, so the Vipers knew it was their chance to strike. So they battled and fought and scored and saved relentlessly for 60 minutes, and nothing the team from Edinburgh could do could break them down. They won the battle, and KT and all the other Vipers fans were so happy, they vowed never to doubt their beloved team again and to support them through the good and the bad and even the ugly. Of which KT was quite sure there wouldn’t be any ever again. They would always be strong and triumphant and fearsome and victorious. It would begin with the chance to vanquish two foes on their very own patch in one weekend. They called it ‘the Drive for Five’, and the good and simple folk of the land would come from far and wide to join forces in supporting the Newcastle Vipers to further glory. And they would all live happily ever after (after a few stiff drinks, that is).

The End.