Eat, Sleep, Dream, Repeat

Writing regularly about something you love comes relatively easy when you’re exposed to that thing on a weekly basis. But without a team to call my own this season, inspiration was, until recently, rather harder to come by. I still begin each new week wondering what I can possibly find to talk about that would be of interest to anybody. When you’re writing about your own team it’s easy. You’ve got a ready made group of people on exactly the same wavelength as you who will happily read the rubbish that you write. But what’s actually the point of me now? All this blog consists of, really, is a vague re-telling of the week’s events in hockeyland. With extra beards.

Why then do I persist? And how am I finding so much to write about now? I come to my computer this morning full of the events of the weekend, ready to spill my guts onto the screen. Because in reality, I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. When you’re gathered in the stands of your home ice rink, or in the bar after the game, it’s all too easy to chew over the happenings in the league. Maybe that’s why I’ve come to rely on this blog. It’s the only place I can vent my excitement about hockey that will listen. It doesn’t have a choice, frankly. I could be talking to myself but I’ll pretend that’s not the case and go merrily about my business.

The best way to describe the way this season feels for me is to take you back to that time when you were 16 and the party of the year was happening but you couldn’t go because your parents were forcing you to attend your Great Aunt Mabel’s 80th birthday tea instead. It happened to all of us, at one point or another. That aching, desperate, stroppy teenage feeling that because YOU’RE not there, it simply must be the most AMAZING party EVER and you’re the only one in the whole WORLD missing out. That. Except twice a week, every week. Everybody’s talking. But I’m not involved in any of the conversations.

And I’ve started yearning again. I yearn a lot these days. It gets quite tiring. I find myself yearning for things I never would have been interested in when I had a team of my own. Why do I want to go to watch the Steelers’ trip to Denmark for the Continental Cup? (Well, probably because of the beer). Why do I feel the urge to go to Braehead to see the results of the Movember competition? (Well, probably because I like facial hair). In all seriousness though, being team-less but still loving the Elite League, I feel as though there’s a little bit of me in all the teams. So I’m basically missing out on 10 team’s worth of fun. And it’s simply not acceptable.

And what fun I missed out on this weekend. This weekend proved what an exciting and entertaining league the Elite League can be. It was a barnstormer. Let’s have a look at what happened.

Coventry Blaze

It’s been a rollercoaster in Coventry these past seven days. Blaze fans were left reeling earlier in the week after the sudden and unexpected loss of Luke Fulghum. Rumours abounded, all seemed unfounded, Sheffield had him surrounded, and snapped him up less than 24 hours after his contract with the Blaze was terminated, Ryan Finnerty like a kid at Christmas with his new signing (also did you like my poetry there? I might try and throw down a few more rhymes in today’s blog). Unrest in the Blaze camp perhaps? You wouldn’t have known it on Saturday night as they soundly beat Dundee at the Skydome; seemingly galvanised they came out as a unit, putting in a great team performance and scoring seven along the way including a brace for rapidly improving Brit Robert Farmer.

Things were not so easy the following night as they travelled to Edinburgh and were given a tough test by Richard Hartmann’s men, who are giving a really good account of themselves this season and are surprising many with their tenacity and goal-scoring abilities. The game at Murrayfield was tied 2-2 at full time, Coventry winning the shoot-out to take the extra point and make it a four-point weekend. Sadly things seem tougher off-ice for the Blaze; they launched a desperate bums-on-seats appeal on Monday morning; echoes of the Vipers’ troubles of last season a grim reminder of the realities in this sport, but here’s hoping the fans answer the call and avert any possible financial crisis. It’s time yet again for everyone involved in the league to pull together.

Dundee Stars had a shocker of a weekend, losing three games in as many days, the third to Nottingham Panthers in a close-run encounter where the Stars did well to score four but were edged out by the home side in their only game of the weekend, which incidentally was watched by the UK’s newest hockey fan, Nottingham-based England cricketer Stuart Broad. Good for publicity? I’ll say. Do I hear 219,000 odd Twitter followers? I do believe I do.

In the remaining two Saturday games, Braehead beat Edinburgh and kept a clean sheet in the process, and Sheffield fought their way past a seemingly rejuvenated Cardiff side to win 4-2 despite being outshot by the visitors 50-30, an impressive performance from netminder John DeCaro the difference between the two sides in the end.

Belfast Giants

In a classic case of fortuitous timing Belfast bounced back from the loss of Benoit Doucet with the return of super-speedy forward Brock McBride who had been out of action for some time with a lower body injury. He marked his return with two goals and in a chippy contest at the Odyssey on Saturday Belfast topped Hull 5 to 1. The Giants followed this up with a trip to the Big Blue Tent on Sunday and in yet another extremely chippy game, they took the points once again despite a number of notable incidents in which they made few friends among the Cardiff Devils fans, playing their pantomime villain roles with aplomb, and causing an outbreak of major internet drama after the game as accusations flew about cheap shots, class, and who really is the boss of British Hockey.

Keefe-watch (Because he’s worth it).

Speaking of chippy, and of bosses, the Boss of Belfast made his mark on the Elite League penalty minute standings on Saturday fighting veteran enforcer Derek Campbell not once but twice, felling him with a single punch on both occasions and picking up 22 of the little buggers along the way (penalty minutes that is. Not punches). Presumably Campbell didn’t hear what Mr Keefe said the first time, so he went back for seconds. Unwise, even for him. AK47 faced a sterner test on Sunday when he finally squared up against Brad Voth, who he’s been gunning for for some time. He didn’t fare well, the height difference causing him a few issues, and the elder statesman took the win. Keefe wanted a re-match but it was not to be. One for the future, perhaps. Still, a strong weekend from the Giants tough guy, who seems to have become the Devils’ love-to-hate player du jour. To the neutral however he’s a great character to have in the league and I for one am loving his antics. More please!

The drama was not limited to Cardiff on Sunday, as all five games were thrillers, Fife Flyers nearly throwing away a three-goal lead against the Braehead Clan but just hanging on for a precious two points, and Hull holding Sheffield to a 2-2 scoreline on their home ice, before Mike Ramsay delivered the killer blow in overtime to take the extra point back to Sheffield. Next week’s Elite League highlights show will be truly unmissable.

Twitter Latest

Adam Keefe called all Cardiff Devils fans mutants. The guy really does have balls. I’ve seen the Welsh angry and I wouldn’t mess. Jon Pelle received a death threat (see my point?). World War III broke out between Devils and Giants fans. Things were taken too seriously. The Steelers marvelled at their own moustaches in between making even less sense than last week. Many hockey players Tweeted about the progress of their various journeys. And that was about it, really. More next week!

So anyway, back to me. The title of today’s post says it all. I really have been living and breathing hockey these last few weeks; at least, as much as anyone without a team can. To the point where I had a dream about going grocery shopping with members of the Giants and Steelers teams. I remember discussing grapes with Nick Kuiper. I wish I was making this up. I’m honestly not. I’m so ensconced in all things hockey that I go funny at the merest mention of ice. There was an ice rink in an episode of Dexter the other night and I came over all excited. You should have seen me watching Frozen Planet. A mess, I was. This Friday sees the season’s first live televised Elite League match on Sky Sports. I imagine someone will need to be on hand with a mop in Shark Club, Newcastle, where we plan to watch it. It could be messy.

Anyway! Enough of that nonsense. I will to return to you shortly to write a bit about the ups and downs of my NHL team, the Calgary Flames. Thankfully, there have been some ups this week. Ups are nice. I suppose that’s the one good thing about not having the Vipers anymore. I don’t have to worry about winning. Or a lack thereof. I can watch in glorious technicolored neutrality, and observe the pain and the glory of the other ten teams with cool, calculating ambivalence, and not really mind who wins the league. Well, almost. Anyone but Panthers, eh.

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!