Greetings hockeylings!

Hello!

For those of you who haven’t read me before, my name is Katy, and I spent the best part of the 2010/11 hockey season falling deeply in love ice hockey and writing about my burgeoning affection and all its irrational nuances on this here blog. Which back then, was called ‘Confessions of a Hockey Novice’. Note the update. I am now a Hockey Nomad. This change was borne out of necessity following the loss of my beloved team, the Newcastle Vipers, but also as I now feel ready to shed my training wheels and go forth into the world of ice hockey to spread my love amongst anyone who is willing to listen. If it sounds a bit squelchy, I do apologise.

I hope you will come with me on the next stage of my journey. It will be mainly concentrating on the Elite League, and in the absence of a regular team to support it will comprise much conjecture and opinionating, at least 33% of which will be based on fact. The remaining 67% will be based on such fripperies as beard-length, celebrity lookalikes, gentle ribbing at the expense of anyone and everyone involved in the Elite League, and pure fantasy.

My disclaimer for anyone new to my hockey writing is this: I waffle. A lot. But there’s always a point in there somewhere, if you have a decent metaphorical spade to dig it out with. I obsess over facial hair. I am fascinated by violence. I am far too giving of my affection and as a result, I get far too attached to things. And I’m prone to the odd terrible illustration or superhero-related cartoon. But if you’ll forgive me these mild mental conditions, I’m sure we’ll all get along famously. (In short, please don’t leave me! It’s cold enough in here without a team let alone without any hits on my website!)

So without further ado I will move onto my first post of the new season. Even though the season hasn’t started yet. Come now, let’s not be picky. I have much speculation and idle gossip to impart! But first, a post about the nature of being a sports fan. Aaaaand.... GO!

The Last Wordle...

Click for full size...

I’m too old for all this – a review of the Elite League Play-off Weekend

And so it all came down to this: one weekend, four teams, a shedload of hockey fans and one hockey novice, about to get her stripes. Please forgive the lack of clarity in this blog post; a couple of weeks back, I was informed by a rather wise friend of mine that I would take my first experience of play-off weekend to the grave. I had been looking forward to it for a while but I didn’t fathom quite how good it would be, and quite how right said wise person was. This is the story of how it all went down, from start to finish – if it goes even a quarter of the way to summing up what an amazing weekend it was, then I’ll have done my job.

It began on Friday night with a visit to a few of Nottingham’s fine drinking establishments (funnily enough, where the majority of the weekend was located) with the strong contingent of Vipers fans who had made the journey south. Spirits were high and fans mingled, old friends and new from all ten of the Elite League clubs preparing for a weekend of hockey-based goodness. Vipers fans were given an extra boost when news reached the Bunkers Hill Inn that Danny Stewart had won the Coach of the Year award at the Elite League awards dinner across the city. We all went nuts. I can’t think of anyone more deserving of an award and it’s testament to the extraordinary hard work that he and all of our amazing team put in all season. I’ll save it for another blog post, but it’s funny how quickly you can fall in love with something, and I was truly proud to say I was a Viper at play-offs, despite everything that went down this season. It felt like a badge of honour to be associated with such an amazing club and group of players, staff and fans. But I digress…

So THAT’S what hockey’s supposed to look like

Saturday morning saw another first for me, as I braved a trip inside a bookies for the first time ever, to put money on the two teams I believed would make it to the final. I was quite proud of myself, and quietly confident I had backed the winning horses. Then it was time to get down to business. Hockey fans from across the UK took their seats in the National Ice Centre/Capital FM Arena/whatever it's called, and the excitement built on all sides as whether or not their teams were involved, all the groups of fans were ready to have a good time. It was quite something to see so many fans from different teams side by side in an arena, and reminded me again what an excellent sport ice hockey is. The whole experience was quite over-whelming and had the Vipers by some miracle made it to that stage of the competition I think I would have been a bit of a mess around that point.

The first semi-final was between Nottingham Panthers and Sheffield Steelers, the much-vaunted local rivalry about to be put to the test. It was generally agreed in discussion with other fans that the second semi-final was likely to be the better of the two, however we were forced to eat our words very quickly. The first period kicked off in style. It was fast-paced and unforgiving; Sheffield scored two early goals but the Panthers were in no mood to roll over and they dug deep, hitting the Steelers hard. Rob Bellamy amongst others had a great first period, and both teams landed some of the hardest hits I’ve seen in the Elite League all season. It was a very tasty match-up and the Panthers hit back in style with some fantastic attacking hockey (they base themselves on the Detroit Redwings don’t you know) and they pulled back two swift equalising goals.

The game was chippy and threatened to boil over but a solid refereeing performance from Mike Hicks ensured that proceedings remained tough but clean. One of the season’s remaining mysteries was also cleared up for me as the announcer provided a full and frank explanation of how to pronounce the surname of Panthers forward Daniel Tkaczuk (you know I just had to check the EIHL website three times to get the spelling right there and I’m still not sure about it!). Apparently you just sneeze. Good to know. If you haven’t got a cold at the time, just call him Dan. The announcer caused quite a few raised eyebrows over the weekend for misheard calls and later on in the game I'm quite certain that Derek Campbell received a two minute penalty for cooking.

Bless you!

Things simmered down in the second period as both teams were a little more cagey, neither wanting to make a mistake and both netminders staying solid. It lacked the intensity of the first period as perhaps players as well as fans started to feel the effects of the night before. The fans of the two teams involved were surprisingly quiet, adrenaline finally giving way to nerves, but the Cardiff Devils fans more than made up for them with some exceptional renditions of Delilah and Don’t Stop Me Now, which were enjoyed by all present. Vinnie the Viper also turned up to rapturous applause.

Throughout the game the Panthers seemed to be suffering from a potent strain of a disease well-known to Vipers fans this season of ‘forgetting we’re on the powerplay-itis’ and they failed to capitalise on some golden opportunities, but the Steelers weren’t much better and we moved into the third with the game in danger of fizzling out and once again failing to live up to the potential that a so-called local derby should provide. However there was more drama in store as Panthers gave away a penalty shot which Steelers player coach Ben Simon proceeded to miss. There was also a moment of light relief from Panthers' 45 Stephen Lee as he attempted a hip check on a Steeler only to miss entirely, bash the boards with his bottom and almost fall over. Comedy gold. The game picked up tempo again thankfully, and Jeff Heerema scored a breathtaking goal seemingly out of nowhere to pile the pressure back onto the League title holders. They were unfazed however and the equaliser came almost immediately from the stick of Ben Simon, making up for his earlier miss and bringing us back to stalemate.

It seemed almost inevitable at that point that the game would go into overtime and that it did. All eyes were once again on two of the most talked about netminders of the season, Craig ‘K-Wall’ Kowalski and Ervins ‘Moose’ Mustokovs. Perhaps this tie would be decided by at outstanding display of goalkeeping. But it was not to be. Instead, despite an incredible season, a rare mistake from Mustokovs was what eventually split the teams, the pressure finally causing his demise, promising British youngster Rob Lachowicz firing home to finish the tie less than two minutes into overtime. The Panthers went crazy. The Steelers would have to be content with the small matter of the League title.

Oh, and in case you were wondering – that was my bet scratched, already.

Selling the Vipers, and Belfast’s demise

Following the match we visited The Castle pub, which was home between matches for the weekend and discussion turned to the Vipers’ future, yet more uncertainty surrounding our beloved club thanks to a controversial article in one of the local papers in which former owner Paddy O’Connor claimed still to be in charge of the club. After a healthy debate we decided to take matters into our own hands and approached Sheffield and Cardiff owner Paul Ragan to make him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Kev would buy him a pint, if he bought the Vipers. It seemed like a fair compromise all round and we were seconds away from inking the deal when we realised it was time to make tracks for the second semi-final, but watch this space. The man’s clearly got his head screwed on, and who wouldn’t be swayed by the offer of a chilled beverage in exchange for ownership of clearly the most passionate club in the country.

Everyone was psyched for the second semi-final as it featured possibly the two most exciting teams of the season and promised to be a fantastic match-up. It seemed to be universally agreed that whoever won this game, would be carrying the support of all but the Panthers fans in Sunday’s final. I was torn over who to support on the night; I felt that the Devils deserved something from their storming season, but I have a soft spot for the Giants after my trip to Belfast. The Devils drew first blood however; a shocking defensive error from one of the Giants D-men (whose identity escapes me) as he back-passed across the face of goal allowing Tylor Michel to put the Devils on the scoresheet, and this proceeded to light a fire under Cardiff’s collective behind. They quickly went on and scored a second goal, short-handed, and it looked ominous for the Giants who just hadn’t turned up at all. It seemed as though it could be a rout as Devils launched wave after wave of attack, whilst their netminder Stevie Lyle was a rock at the crease, stopping everything Belfast threw at him. They were flying and Belfast were clueless as to how to get around them, despite deploying Mike Hoffman as a forward at one point, or so it seemed, the strategy nearly working as it was about the only time when Belfast seemed to wake up. For all the talent in their line-up something just didn’t click for them on Saturday and it is hard to pick out any particular offenders although Josh Prudden had a bit of a nightmare, and not one forward line packed any punch. They had no end product, despite having 5 on 3 on more than one occasion, although it may be testament to the Devils’ effective penalty kill. There was no shortage of star men for the Devils but Captain Ryan Finnerty just stood out above the rest; he comes across as a real heart-on-sleeve kind of player, and he never stopped working for a moment. Craig Weller also showed his class on the day.

A picture paints a thousand words. One of them is 'steady'.

Cardiff did not take Belfast apart in quite the way many expected after their dominance in the first period, but they were always in control and Belfast never really threatened to come back into it. The game sadly did not live up to expectations, but confidence was high for the final as it was to be fought out between the two teams who had provided the most entertainment during the weekend thusfar.

The Final Countdown, and The Aftermath

The final day began with an under-19 international between England and Scotland. The number of empty seats spoke of the celebrations that had gone before and we made the most of the space by moving next to centre ice for a fantastic view of the action. There was interest in the Panthers section of the crowd as various Panthers players passed in and out of the rink, waving and signing autographs like the minor celebrities they clearly are in the Nottingham area. The game itself started out slowly but England were always on top. Support was muted despite a spirited effort from the rambunctious Braehead Clan fans who made their presence felt all weekend. Local interest for Vipers fans centred on Callum Davies, the Northern Stars forward who iced for our team a number of times towards the end of the season and put in a sterling effort. His Stars and Vipers team-mate, Elite League Defenceman Dan Pye (DAN PYE!) was present to support his colleague and took a fair amount of good-natured abuse from certain members of the Vipers crew throughout the weekend, but he took it all in his stride, so good on him.

Once England started scoring there was no stopping them, and they finally racked up double figures just before the game drew to a close. It had been an entertaining contest with some good episodes of play from England, some great shows of talent from a few individual players and a good dose of conflict also.

And so we had a few hours to kill before the final game of the season would be upon us, and the atmosphere was building in and around the rink and its surrounding drinking establishments. I’d love to give you a blow-by-blow account of the final but I’ll be honest, everything was a bit of a blur by then. The atmosphere was great – being right next to the Devils’ block we really felt like part of the action, although it has to be said it felt very, very wrong chanting another team’s name, so I reverted to clapping only, but I was with the Devils all the way. The presence of the Sky TV cameras was felt and not in a good way, as the so-called ‘prompt’ 4:00pm face-off was delayed by around 20 minutes, presumably in order for them to lever in a good selection of ad breaks, leaving the players standing around waiting and the hapless rink announcer struggling to fill the time. Sky: selfless dedication to ramming themselves firmly up the rear end of otherwise perfectly successful sporting events and jumping up and down shouting ‘look at us’ for the last twenty-odd years. Thank you VERY much. Just so long as you can shoehorn in one last round of Go Compare, eh, chaps.

The final featured high quality hockey from the outset and had no shortage of thrills and spills. A monumental hit on Angel Nikolov by Brad Voth was wrongly called for interference and is one that demands to be watched again on the replay. Voth himself was subject of one of a number of play-off rumours that floated about across the weekend as the gossip train did the rounds of the hockey pubs. Apparently after six great years with Cardiff he will shortly be on his way back home to hang up his skates and become a farmer. I must stress however that that rumour is as yet unconfirmed. Although I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the image of him in a straw hat, leaning on a fork chewing a piece of hay and patting a nice firm cow on the buttocks. Ah, Bradley.

Cardiff took control of the game early on as they had against Belfast, striking twice in the first period with a single goal from Beauregard coming in reply for the Panthers. But the Challenge Cup holders did not let Cardiff build up too much of a head of steam and they sneaked back into the game, ending the second period trailing by just one goal. It came down to the final period to decide who would lift the trophy and once again it was up to the two netminders, but in a cruel twist of fate after his heroics in the semi-final, Stevie Lyle was found wanting, as K-Wall came into his own, shutting out the Devils for the full final period, and in turn allowing his team to go on and score two goals, one of which was caused by an error from Lyle, in order to take the lead. Despite the Devils’ best efforts, they were thwarted in every respect, Scott Matzka receiving a game misconduct as he lost the plot with just over two minutes to go, and Devils' talisman and player of the weekend for me, Ryan Finnerty, being sent to the bench for the final minute of the match. It was the final straw and took the wind right out of the Cardiff's sails, and the Panthers were able to stand firm and power through to take the trophy.

Danny Meyers: Winning at Playoff Beards

It was a disappointing result for many of the fans in the arena with no love lost for the big-spending Panthers and their annoyingly successful departure from Sexy Neilson Hockey, but they deserved their celebrations on the day and as Danny Meyers lifted the trophy for the victors, having been one of the three key men for his team in the match (after Kowalski and Beauregard) and also lifting the Parles Cup for most impressive play-off beard in a weekend that had so far sadly lacked in general beard-age (Mike Prpich would SO have shown this lot of part-timers what was what), we filed out and back to the pub to dissect the game that was, and to engage in a number of raucous activities in no small part sponsored by fermented apple products. I couldn’t possibly go into detail about the events of that night (mainly as I can’t remember most of them) but highlights include a late-night press conference, dropped pints, switching of team allegiances, Sambuca, much love from all the clubs to the Vipers and back, and countless rounds of highly amusing and at times mildly offensive chanting with the hockey fans of the UK, all of whom came together to enjoy one final night of banter and good times to say goodbye to the season that had been.

And so on Monday morning we said goodbye to Nottingham with heavy hearts, eyelids and suitcases and made our way home, uncertain in the knowledge of what the future may hold for our club or for British Ice Hockey in general. The hardcore among us made our way to the pub for a final drink or three before staggering home to reacquaint ourselves with our own beds, and early nights. This hockey season has been one hell of an incredible journey and I can safely say that I am not the same person at the end of it as the one I was at the beginning. I started the post with a quote from one wise friend and I’ll end it with one from another: ‘hockey is the best and worst thing that will ever happen to you’, and that is something that I can completely relate to now. It's taken over my life, trashing its way through my heart, soul, mental health and bank account, but I honestly wouldn't have it any other way. All I can say with any certainty is that whatever happens, I will be first at the bar at next year’s play-offs. See you all there, and hopefully many times in between.

Only playoff weekend could end with a head on a tray. Goodnight everybody!

Game photos courtesy of Paul Lynch Photography

Head on a Tray photo courtesy of Kevin Pope

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!

That’s All Folks

Perspective. There’s a rare and precious commodity I could use a little of right now. Writing this blog post in a month’s time I would probably be able to wax lyrical about the Vipers’ season, contrast the highs and lows, list the best bits, review the players, maybe even summarise my journey from hockey novice to regular hockey fan. And I could put it all into context and perhaps accept that my life isn’t actually over. But perspective is not a luxury I am lucky enough to be afforded right now, so as it is, this is probably going to be the toughest thing I have ever had to write in my erratic (and for the most part imagined) journalistic career. But I have loved writing about this hockey team all season long and there’s not a dog in a pond’s chance I’m going to let them go without a proper send-off, gut-wrenching as it’s going to be to put down onto paper (screen) the emotions that I am feeling right now.

So I’m going to review the final weekend in all its glory. I thought about breaking it up into parts but sod it, I’m going to do it justice in one long final hurrah. I’m even going to attempt to review the matches. Well, vaguely. But I’m not going to shy away from the reality of the situation, so you’d better prepare yourselves. There will be sad bits. There will be happy bits. There will be cuddly, fluffy and squishy bits. I will do my damnedest to ensure it makes sense and is as optimistic as I can manage because that’s the least this team deserve. Buckle up sports fans, as we take our final spin on the rollercoaster ride that has been Vipers Hockey. It’s going to be a long one.

Saturday 19th March 2011 – saying Goodbye to the Bay

I know a lot of people have had their problems with Whitley Bay and yes, having seen on the tele-box and even in person, now, the Utopian Ice Paradises of such places as the Odyssey Arena and the National Ice Centre, I can understand why. It’s small, dingy, old, uncomfortable, poorly lit, freezing cold and the lines beneath the ice have all but disappeared. Plus it doesn’t belong to us, is awkward for fans to get to and just generally causes a bit of a grump amongst the Vipers massive.

I’ll admit I’m hugely biased because it’s 5 minutes’ drive from my house; hell, I could even have walked there if I felt so inclined (I never did), but you know what, it’s not even the convenience factor that I’ll miss about Whitley Bay ice rink now the season has come to a close. It’s my first ice rink. The one where I fell in love with ice hockey. And until last weekend, the only ice hockey rink I’d been to. It’s the one where I lost my heart to the Vipers, made friends with like-minded people, drank cider and laughed and cheered and danced and learnt everything I know about this beautiful game. And you know the thing I will miss most? Aside from the strange, cold, yet sometimes vibrant atmosphere which prevails there, the impact of being so very close to the ice surface, wherever in the building you are, and the somewhat ominous ambience the place has due to the yellow-ish darkness which somehow lends itself so perfectly to this oftentimes dark and menacing sport.

It’s the smell. It gets me every time. On the approach you anticipate it, and there it is; your nostrils fill with the unique scent of fried cheese mixed with decomposing rubber. And then you get into the rink itself. The ice has a weird, wet smell that hangs on your hair and your clothes long after you leave the rink. That smell will stay with me for as long as that ice rink stays standing. I have no doubt I will go there during the summer and feel all wrong because it’s light outside and the sun is shining but there will be that smell: so familiar, so tangible I can almost grab it. It will all come rushing back to me. The sound of the cheers echoing in my ears, the crisp ‘swoosh’ of skaters stopping and swiftly changing direction, cutting into the ice with precision, the smack of the puck against a stick, or a goalpost, or some teeth.

The Bay. Perfect? Nope. My favourite place in the North-East? Even above the pub (all of them)? Yup.

It may not be perfect, but I’ll never forget that battered old building on Hillheads Road, and all the good times I’ve had there. So, unexpectedly, Saturday was a harder day for me than Sunday, and it caught me unawares. It was the last Vipers home game, and the first in a double-header against Dundee. It could have been all to play for, had various factors not taken the power out of our hands and left us with nothing to play for but pride. But as has been the case with this team time and time again over the course of the season, there’s no telling the Vipers players when to quit. Amid a throng of fans paying tribute to the heroes of the season through song, the team set about attacking the game with trademark tenacity. We went 1-0 down in the first but came back fighting, our three goals coming in quick succession, and all from the fearsome two-some of Hartmanis and Rzeszutko. They went as follows: first goal – amazing individual skill from Hartmanis; second goal – cheeky and lucky, (and some other lesser known dwarves), some nifty link-up play between the two around the back of the net; third goal – Jaro Ninja strikes and follows up with one of his awesome celebrations. Love that.

Towards the end of the first period there were some issues and controversy, as is usual in games between us and Dundee, and that combined with some technical issues with the scoreboard meant a lengthy delay in proceedings. We struggled again against some questionable refereeing, and in the second period it seemed to affect the team, and they lost their way and were made to pay by the Stars. Dundee did their best to help us out, taking penalty after penalty and rarely fielding a full set of five skaters, but we were plagued once again by an ineffective powerplay, and we failed to make the most of the opportunities. The lead slipped away, and we moved into the third period with a tied game. In the third period we clawed our way back into the game but were unable to make any impact on Kurdna’s net and Dundee struck the final blow. A devastating and undeserved loss for our final game, but a hard-fought one too, and nothing to be ashamed of. Following the game the players were introduced individually for the fans to show their appreciation, before Danny took to the mic to give a few heartfelt words of thanks to everyone involved with the club. There were tears and cheers all around the rink as the home crowd said goodbye to surely one of the gutsiest and most determined groups of individuals ever to grace the ice of Whitley Bay and maybe even British ice hockey in general.

Danny's Lionhearts. We love you guys, and we will never forget you! THANK YOU!

Sunday 20th March 2011 – Danny Stewart and the Last Crusade

By rights, the away trip to Dundee, what with being the team’s last ever game together, and probably our last ever game as a club, should have been even sadder than Saturday. But it wasn’t. As 49 Vipers fans boarded a stunningly shiny futuristic silver pod of a coach to make the long trip to the wilds of Scotland, there was a mood of defiant buoyancy. This trip WAS going to be fun, and no faffing about with your namby-pamby soppy tears or reminiscing. Are you northern or not? (Nope. Sshh, don’t tell anyone. I don’t think they’ve noticed, my Geordie accent has really come on lately!).

On arrival in Dundee I noticed a small number of important details. There was a KFC. This was good news, as I was hungry. The rink looked impressive from the outside. And Dundee smelt really rather bad. Following a fast food fix, we headed rink-wards where we enjoyed Dundee’s pleasant bar facilities whilst admiring their little gem of a rink. Honestly, if it’s possible to marry an ice rink, then someone hand me a ring because I am in LOVE. What a diamond little place. I was over-awed by the Odyssey Arena, to the point of detachment, but Dundee is a cracker. It combines all the best features of a place like the Odyssey – bright lights, decent seating, good views and good facilities, with the proximity to the ice and the intimacy that is Whitley Bay’s strong suit. All in all it was the perfect ice experience and as one Vipers fan suggested, if we could have hooked the Dundee Ice Arena to the back of the bus and towed it home, I really think we would have.

Aah, look at the lovely rink! Look how shiny and bright! I can has?

And so down to business, for the last time this season. It was somehow fitting that as all the two-way players from Whitley Warriors and Northern Stars were unavailable, the team that took to the ice were the bare bones – but the heart and soul – of the Vipers team we have known and loved all season. Nine skaters and two netminders. Small but perfectly formed. Our little half-sized hockey unit with double the heart of a full strength squad. 50% off, but 110% extra free. I could continue in this vein. Shall I? Okay fine, I’ll get on with it. Around 100 Vipers turned out to see the lads off in style and boy did Dundee know about it. The singing was loud, proud and constant. Every Vipers fan, clad in at least one jersey, wore their hearts on their sleeves and clapped until their hands stung, and sang until they had no voices left.

The first period was as exciting a period of hockey as we’ve seen all season. Close-fought and hard battled, the effort from both teams was reflected the scoreline going into the period break, at 1-1. In the second period, back-up netminder Liam McAllister made a rare appearance. Sadly for the travelling fans, Dundee took advantage, pouncing early and scoring four goals in quick succession to effectively kill off the game. But the Vipers fans continued singing regardless, and I heard some great chants on the night, some of which I wouldn’t dare to repeat on here, some of which were quite moving, and one of which was a touching one-man tribute to Kyle Sibley, which I rather enjoyed given my affection for the aforementioned diminutive defenceman.

The Vipers Massive. They're MASSIVE! How's that for away support? Are you watching Elite League!

The rest of the game was academic really. There was surpisingly little in the way of conflict, and Dan Ceman's men asserted themselves and made the nine-odd man advantage tell. We did manage to get on the score-sheet again through that man Rzeszutko, to give us one last goal to go crazy for, and then we sadly lost Danny Stewart to injury in an unfortunate and violent meeting between puck and foot. The coach took man of the match, which seemed fitting.

And so that was that. Season over. We trooped back to the coach for a surprisingly upbeat journey home, and then went our separate ways, wistful in the memory of what had been, and what could have been. Or maybe that was just me. Something about a sub-standard cheese pizza from a late-night kebab shop really puts me in a thinking sort of a mood.

The end of this season is a double-edged sword, as we are losing two distinct entities, both of which mean so much to so many, but in quite different ways. Firstly and most importantly is the end of this ice hockey club – it’s not set in stone, and I for one will be keeping everything crossed as well as trying to win the lottery on a weekly basis – but it’s looking likely. It’s the end of an era for the devoted and loyal following that I have been proud to call myself a part of for just six short months, during which time I’ve seen a brief snapshot of a tight-knit community, passionate and dedicated to the very last. These fans are not just losing something to do on a Saturday night. They are losing something which has been a massive part of their lives for the last few years. I can’t compare my experience to that of the hardcore, the lifers; they have made countless fantastic memories with this organisation, and I can’t and won’t even pretend to understand how deeply this will affect them, as the reality is I’m a total newcomer and I have not been a part of this club’s history. They have. The hurt I am feeling must be a hundred times worse for them and I can only hope that something, anything, can be done to rescue the club in its time of need. These much-vaunted hockey gods I’ve heard so much about really need to get their holy fingers out, because it would be criminal for this to come to an end.

But the second thing we are losing is something that I would have shed tears over losing whether or not this club continued its tenuous existence, and that is the loss of a sporting team unlike any other I have ever seen. Danny Stewart and his players have given everything and more for the club and the fans this season and they will all go on to great things, of that I have no doubt. Each and every one of them deserves so much love and respect for the part they have played in this topsy-turvy few months, and they will live on forever in the memories of the fans who were lucky enough to share this crazy ride with them. They are testament to the fact that good friendships, heart and determination and a will to succeed can overcome almost anything.

I have long said that this experience reminds me of a movie, and that I would love to make a film about the amazing ups and downs of this season. A true underdog story. It’s not a story about miracles but instead a film about triumph over adversity, hopes and dreams, anticipation, ups and downs, sticking together, tenacity, guts and loyalty; the true underdog mentality. It’s not about the perfect outcome, but the spirit in which the almost achieving it was achieved. But every sports film needs a happy ending. And we don’t have one of those. Yet.

The End

(Oh and just in case you were wondering, I’m not going anywhere. The blog may take a slightly different format in the coming weeks and months but I will still be here in some way, shape or form. What the hell else am I going to do with myself if I can’t babble on about hockey. Later in the week I will, with added perspective and hopefully humour, sum up the season as I have seen it, and ponder the path our futures might take without hockey. There will also be extensive review of the play-off weekend, in early April, as I attempt to turn my journalistic tendencies to something more objective. Oh who am I kidding, I’ll be rating player beards and searching for Sexy Neilson Hockey and I’m not ashamed to say it. Until then folks, I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this blog as much as I have writing it. It’s been a pleasure in so many ways. And I’m gushing again, which is silly as I’ll be back in a few days. Ta ta for now).

My first, my last, my everything

I’m going to come clean, dearest readers. The nearer the end of the season gets, the harder it is for me to write coherent and upbeat blog posts. I have two whole matches from last weekend to review, and yet my drafts up to now have been all padding and no meat. And nobody wants that. Except possibly skinny vegetarians. I’ve concluded that I’m TOO involved. Before, I was happily standing at the prow of the good ship Vipers looking back at the action and off in to the future but now the ship’s hit the iceberg of reality and I’m officially drowning in a sea of too much ice hockey (if that’s even possible), and it’s about to all go black. Drama!

The weekend I’ve just had was so hockey-dominated it makes me wonder if I’ll remember how to function once it all comes to an end. It was a weekend of firsts, ironic given the fact that it was the penultimate weekend of the regular Elite League ice hockey season, and quite possibly the penultimate weekend of Vipers hockey for the foreseeable future. But I might as well make the most of it while it lasts, so here goes!

Saturday 12th

First up was my first ever away trip, and my first ever visit to another rink for an ice hockey match. And what better place to pop my away cherry than Belfast. The weekend started at an hour I’d heard tell of in myth and legend but never actually believed really existed. Disappointingly, it does. I rose zombie-like from my bed at 4:50am on Saturday morning, and joined the merry band of 21 Vipers fans on a flight to the Northern Irish capital for a day of hockey and plenty of craic along the way. I felt a bit guilty that the team were travelling the painfully slow way, via coach to Stranraer and then the ferry across the Irish Sea, whilst we were swanning about the fine drinking establishments of Belfast, but I decided we’d earned the right to a few drinks after the time the alarm went off that morning.

Speaking of drinking establishments, I made my highly anticipated first (ooh, another first!) visit to the much-lauded Rockies Bar – and what a bar! It’s an ice hockey fan’s paradise. Hockey utopia, if you will. Hockey and beer and sport on the TV and other hockey fans. Bliss. What I wouldn’t give to have such a place in the local area. I would literally live there. As for the Odyssey Arena itself, well, it was something else. I felt very disconnected from it all at first, as though perhaps I was there to watch somebody else’s teams play. So stunned was I by the bright lights, padded seats and dramatic intro video montage it came as quite a shock to me when the Vipers team took to the ice and reminded me that I was there for a reason.

They looked so teeny on that massive rink; although I would mention they weren’t quite so outsized as they had been at Whitley Bay when the Giants visited a few weeks ago, mainly due to the fact that the enormous Mike Hoffman was being rested. I was reliably informed that Hoffman was in fact engaged in a competitive pizza-eating contest against Giants fans that evening – I kid you not. Oh, and they had cheerleaders!! And a giant sandwich for a mascot! It was all extremely surreal and for a few moments I was able to re-capture those feelings of blissful ignorance that I experienced back in the beginning of my ice hockey adventure, although now it was probably more to do with the numerous beverages in my belly and the dazzling effect of the lights gleaming off of the perfectly smooth ice surface. (The lights! I can’t get over them. They were so BRIGHT! I am so taking sunglasses to play-offs).

Even my camera struggled to make sense of the sheer amount of light in the Odyssey Arena. Note however, Mike Prpich's beard, clearly visible. I am almost certain this beard will be visible from Space. Confirmation from NASA expected imminently.

We were all having a perfectly jolly time in Belfast until the minor inconvenience of an ice hockey match interrupted our beer-drinking. How rude. I don’t plan to dwell on the hockey itself for more than a sentence or two. The Vipers just weren’t at the races. We did our best but it fell way short of the mark. We held on in the first period mainly due to some outstanding saves from Charlie Effinger but collapsed in the second and third, barely registering any convincing shots on goal and doing well to limit the Giants to single figures. There was a moment of hope in the first period break as there were fears of the game being called off after the zamboni leaked gas onto the ice, burning a hole in it and forcing Giants staff to relay a patch of ice and hope that it held. Sadly it did, and the Vipers were forced to endure the beating. We sang as loudly as we could but 21 versus over 4,000 is a bit of a mismatch, so I’ve no idea if our attempts reached the ears of our lads, although we did attract some quizzical looks from some of the Belfast fans in the next block along from us, presumably as they tried to figure out what the slight buzzing noise coming from their left was.

The evening that followed was as memorable as the hockey was forgettable, with highlights too many to mention, although I would like to note for the record that one of them involved a certain elite league hockey coach gleefully accepting a mask of a certain other elite league hockey coach to take home with him. Made my night, that did.

Sunday 13th

After another bright and early start, a short plane trip, a quick kip on the sofa and a cheese toastie the weekend’s hockey action continued in earnest on Sunday. Playing the league leaders and the title chasers in two consecutive days? No bother. Whitley Bay was packed to the rafters (well, compared to normal!), many Steelers fans having made the short trip north, and tensions were running high. The atmosphere was excellent and the game couldn’t have been more different from yesterday’s flat-as-a-proverbial-pancake effort in Belfast. Bright and sparkly as the Odyssey Arena may be, it really can’t compete in terms of feeling connected to the action; I sincerely doubt anywhere could have quite the impact Whitley Bay has in terms of feeling a part of it all. Plus my eyes felt much more comfortable, accustomed as they are to the dimly lit surroundings of the Bay. I think I must be devolving into some kind of prehistoric creature because of that place; part human, part freezer-dwelling mole.

And so to another first – my first time seeing the Steelers live this season. First impressions? They were quick and efficient, but within recent weeks I’ve seen more attacking prowess from Belfast, more power from Cardiff and more flair from Nottingham (yes, really). Yes they were well-drilled, but they were the least impressive of the title contenders in my humble opinion. Of course it could have just been an off day for them, but I feel it may have had more to do with the intensity of the Vipers, who were switched on straight away, and only conceded their first two goals through really unlucky bounces. We really did seem to have run out of luck on Sunday; sometimes things just don’t go your way, however hard you battle. The Vipers weren’t intimidated by the Steelers but failed to capitalise on their powerplay opportunities once again – they did however manage a penalty kill or two which was just lovely. (Get me! I'll be talking about tactics next!! No, I really won't).

We went 3-0 down early in the second but nothing could deter the Vipers from giving their home crowd something to shout about and Danny Stewart scored another one of his trademark slapshot goals mid-way through the second and sent the fans into paroxysms of joy. I have come to the conclusion that Danny is a complete and utter legend. He is our Coach Bombay, only mouthier. And balder. I fully intend to squeeze the life out of him at the end of the season (if I’m drunk enough) for all of the amazing work he has done with the team despite all the problems, but quite aside from his coaching prowess he’s pretty amazing on the ice too; fast, feisty and fearless. Exactly what you want in a coach and a hockey player. Am I gushing much? I’ll move on.

Spot the Puck. Charlie is seconds away from executing the trademark Effinger pounce. The Steelers might as well give up. He moves faster than a cheetah on Red Bull.

The whole team were BACK against Sheffield, it has to be said. My most recent favourite Viper, Kyle Sibley, had another strange game, making up for a number of errors with twice as many moments of genius – he is a bit of an enigma it has to be said and his performances, solid for the most part of the season, have really come into their own over the last few weeks. I would go as far as to call him ‘quirky’. Mike Prpich’s beard was also out in force (I know it seems improbable but really, it was). I have noticed that Mike Prpich’s hair is now trying to compete with Mike Prpich’s beard for attention which intrigues me. It’s previously been an innocent bystander whilst the beard has gone about terrorising the nation but now it’s come into its own, and on Sunday it leapt out from beneath Pirps’ helmet and waged war against the Steelers. I would go so far as to say that Mike Prpich’s combined hairyness was our 13th man.

What else from the game? Derek Campbell seemed keen to get up close and personal with our lads, but the Vipers were resistant to his rather persistent charms, and the Coach gave him a good ear-bashing when both were holed up in the penalty box. Good! We continued be extremely unlucky, having some great chances but not putting them away, although I would venture to suggest that much of our bad luck was actually Steelers' netminder Ervins Mustukovs just being a bit good. Player in the Elite League you LEAST want to face in net? Yup, pretty much. Despite this we fought tooth and nail to pull the scoreline back to 4-3 right at the end of the third period, and proceeded to pull Charlie and play 6 on 5, but there just wasn’t enough time and despite an absolutely amazing effort, the game was lost. Valiant to the death, the Vipers just keep on proving that they will not be beaten. The game was fast, exciting and well-played by all involved – a fantastic spectacle for those attending Whitley Bay for potentially the last time for the foreseeable future.

And so we move into the final weekend of the season for the Vipers, and a double-header against Dundee. There’s a strong contingent of Vipers fans attending both the home and away games and despite them being about nothing more than pride, we are duty-bound to send our boys off in style, and that we shall do. Next week’s post will be momentous. I warn you, I don’t do goodbyes well. Please come prepared. I won’t be held responsible for any spontaneous outbursts of emotion that cause mess on anyone’s desks/screens/clothing.

It’s That Ole Devil called Voth Again

Cards on the table, people. It’s nearing the end. I’m not going to pretend that it’s going to be easy. But we will face it together. First I will deal with the match report-type business-like malarkey, before I descend into hysteria and launch into my man-size box of Kleenex. Dive in with me. There’s enough for everyone. Unless you have a cold. In which case, get your own.

It was the first sighting of a Cardiff Devil in the Newcastle area since way back in November, when the Welsh side were in the midst of an almighty, barn-storming, 21-game winning streak which broke the league (and possibly world) record, and they subsequently perched atop the Elite League for a time before their streak came to an end and they dropped below the Sheffield Steelers. So, a big game for us then? Er, yes. Just a bit.

Sadly I’m not best-placed to provide a detailed report this week, as I was completely cabbaged from sleep deprivation, travelling and excessive consumption of fermented apple drink in London the previous night. The game was missing something in the first period, which was no good at all from a personal point of view, as I struggled to retain consciousness, but I think what was missing was mostly, well, ice hockey. It just didn’t seem to materialise, at least from the Vipers. We seemed devoid of ideas; Cardiff play a physical game and interrupted any flow we were able to muster, and they went in at the first period break 3-1 to the good.

The Devils had the better of us for the majority of the game but it wasn’t a walk in the park for them, and although we produced little in terms of shots on goal, the ones we did produce were accurate and going into the third period we had the score back to 3-2 for a short while and it could have been game on. However our error rate was too high, we turned over too many pucks and even Charlie had an uncharacteristic wobble in goal. Simply put, the guys looked tired, and were out-played, although it’s fair to say the difference between the teams on the night should not have amounted to 5 goals, and we were once again hampered by some questionable refereeing. We also nearly suffered the loss of another defenceman when Kyle Sibley was caught in the face unintentionally by an otherwise rather belligerent Ryan Finnerty (who then proceeded to rub salt in the wound by slamming the penalty box door in Sibley’s already injured face as he attempted to leave the ice for treatment). Suffice to say, I was all kinds of worried, but thankfully Sibs returned unharmed and had I not had to make a swift exit following the game, he would doubtless have found me molesting him with grateful affection in the bar after the game. These hockey players have had some lucky escapes this season, I can tell you.

Sibley had an interesting game actually, making a few careless errors but more than making up for them with some characterful defending and some excellent shots on goal. For our only surviving import defenceman, he has been playing more like a forward lately, and I like it! (Not that John Schwarz is dead; quite the contrary actually. He appears to be living an amazing double life, and has been spotted patrolling the Vipers bench shouting orders in an Italian accent. Yes it’s true. He is our Fabio).

It should be noted that the game also marked the return of the Behemoth himself, Brad Voth, highly anticipated after his clash with our very own Sam Zajac back in November, but it has to be said he behaved himself rather well in the end (as did Sammy!) and he also did us the good service of providing probably the highlight of the evening, as he was set up in front of an empty net and yet somehow managed to sky the puck for one of the misses of the season. It was a highly amusing moment, made even more memorable by Voth’s good-natured acceptance of the heckling from the Vipers fans, giving us a wave for our troubles. All good clean fun.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the one, the only, Mr Bradley Voth. Look how fluffy! It's amazing what a simple pimp costume can do to enhance a man's natural qualities. Mean? Are you kidding me? Even Voths need love.

The defeat on Saturday, although hard fought, was expected, but the Vipers travelled to Hull on Sunday with hopes of an outside chance of nicking something from the game. I wasn’t there but I can safely say the guys gave it everything, yet again, Charlie right back on form letting in only one shot in 59 – yet another truly outstanding performance. We lost by just a single goal. However, the final nail in the coffin of our play-off hopes was tapped into place by the Dundee Stars who won impressively over a slumping Coventry Blaze side, and it’s safe to say that barring a miracle of biblical proportions, that nail will be firmly hammered in come this weekend.

Following the defeat against Hull and the realisation that we are unlikely to make play-offs the reality of the situation facing our beloved club hit me with full force. However I don’t wish to dwell on the stark truth of the matter until it’s absolutely necessary, and between now and then we have two weekends of hockey left and regardless of the league situation here is what it means: we have four games left. Four games to play our hockey and give it our all, just the way we have been, but now without fear and without pressure. Let’s go down fighting. Maybe not literally, but metaphorically. (Or literally, if necessary!) As originally quoted by the inimitable Mr Neil Young (a Canadian himself, so clearly it relates to hockey!), ‘it’s better to burn out than to fade away’, so let’s leave this league with the memory of a Vipers team who have battled for every puck, and fought their hearts out week in week out, right to very last minute of the very last period. They’re not going to forget this team in a hurry. For the Vipers fans, we’ve got four games left to enjoy our team while we still have them, and what a team they are. Let’s go down singing.

March of the Vipers

Welcome to March, people. March! Can you Adam and Eve it! And other such cockney exclamations. It’s frightening how close we are to the end of the season now; I’m trying to trick my brain into not believing it and have spent massive portions of time studying the NHL in order to guarantee myself a couple more months of pleasure before the summer hits with full force and the reality of the hockey emptiness hits home. This has resulted, unsurprisingly, in yet more nervous moments as I wait to see if my team (Calgary Flames) can make it to the play-offs. Nothing can ever be straightforward, can it. SIGH.

But I’m happy to report that of the Vipers’ six remaining league games, I will be in attendance at five, including the last four in a row, and then of course there’s play-off weekend, so I will be able to bring you a veritable smorgasbord of hockey babbling to keep you going well into those dreaded summer months. Or until the second week in April, at least. (This is the first time in my entire life I’ve ever dreaded the summer. I feel so DIRTY!).

It seems as though every game is ‘the most important game of the season’ for the Vipers at the moment, but on Saturday it was unequivocally true as we were once again playing the Dundee Stars, our only rival for 8th spot in the league and the final play-off place. A defeat would have ended our challenge in all but mathematics, a victory would keep us very much in the race, despite the tough selection of fixtures we have facing us during the final weeks.

The momentousness of the occasion played on my mind throughout the week and by the time Saturday night rolled around, I should by rights have been quaking in my boots with nerves. But I wasn’t. A peculiar air of calm had descended over me; I felt all zen. Why? I couldn’t put my finger on it. There was a portentous air of inevitability hanging around the rink, as there has been for some of our other recent matches, but it has gathered density and momentum of late, like a snowball rolling down a hill, and it’s impossible to ignore. The sense that the script for this season is already written may be ominously tempting fate, but it’s prevalent none the less.

Here endeth the slightly abstract, mysterious and speculative section of the post! We did theorise that perhaps the real reason no-one felt nervous was because the players were all clad in the most ridiculous shade of pink. It detracts a certain something from the gravity of such a crunch game when your entire team look like giant shrimp, right down the horrendously clash-y red trim which put me in mind of a platter of fresh king prawns. Sexy. All for a good cause of course, as the simply-named ‘Pink at the Rink’ night was in aid of Macmillan Cancer Support.

A busy day at the salmon farm as the Head Salmon reveals the day's key swim tactics

And so to the game. Just as we had against Belfast last weekend, we got off to a dream start, Jaroslaw Rzeszutko scoring within the first half a minute. In contrast to last week though, he didn’t stop there. Quite what they put in Jaro’s Lucozade this week I don’t know, but whatever it was, I’d like to order a significant amount. He scored a hat-trick in the first period alone, the third goal an absolutely spectacular diving effort over the Stars’ netminder. I’ve been trying to get the nickname ‘Ninja’ for him to catch on in recent weeks and after Saturday’s performance, I hope it will, as I think it fits him perfectly. The guy was on fire. Although someone misunderstood me and started calling him ‘the Jarrow Ninja’, which conjures up a whole different image to what I had in mind!

We weren’t completely dominant in the first period despite the scoreline, one of main issues being our powerplay, which was ineffective at first as we squandered a couple of opportunities before finally finding the key – 5 on 3! Something about a two-player advantage just makes the game that bit easier. It’s a revelation!

We started the second period nervously and Dundee capitalised on our lack of intent, scoring within a minute and again later on in the period, but we scored a couple more of our own to set up what everyone hoped would be a straightforward third period. I must say that the whole affair was passing by with relatively little in the way of conflict which was a surprise to everyone, particularly in light of the last meeting between the two sides which could very well have ended in a bench clearance. Oh and can I just say, I totally called a penalty and got it right!! Go Katy, it’s your birthday etc. (It’s not really. It's June 15th, in case you’re wondering. Please address all gifts to KTDude, number 14, quite near the ice rink, Tyne and Wear. Thanks guuuuuys!).

Blink and you'll miss them. Speed Kings Hartmanis and Rzeszutko

Now, I will devote a whole paragraph to the awesomeness that is our number one forward line. Take a bow Messrs Rzeszutko, Prpich and Hartmanis, you are truly breath-taking. Toms Hartmanis’ astonishing turn of speed, his amazing link up play with Ninja Rzeszutko, and the intensity of the line as a whole is astounding. It breathes life into the whole team every time it takes to the ice, and it can and does induce mild whiplash in all who gaze upon it, as it shoots by at the speed of sound. Dundee looked nervous every time that line took to the ice. But tonight was Rzeszutko’s night. He netted his fourth and fifth in the third period, and despite a spirited fight-back from Dundee, it was never going to be their night. Even if they had scored a couple more – highly unlikely given our second star of the night, Charlie Effinger, who was quietly going about his business saving shot after shot in the background – in the form he was in, Jaro probably would have poked in a couple more just to make a point.

That’s not to say there weren’t nervous moments. It certainly wasn’t plain sailing. Dundee even had six on three at one point, having pulled their netminder whilst we had two in the penalty box, but they couldn’t even convert that, and once the sixth goal went in Dundee would have had to resort to praying for miracles to pull anything from the game. Kudos to their travelling fans though; they were boisterous, lively and vocal for the most part of the match, and we look forward to welcoming them back to the Bay on the final Saturday of the season, before we repay the favour on their patch the very next day! Here’s hoping we are still in the race by then.

A Dundee Star realises his best chance to score at Whitley Bay is to fuse himself to Rzeszutko

I was reliably informed that following the victory the team took to the dressing rooms and spent some time involved in a group singing session which is apparently quite unusual. Perhaps that’s the effect that playing in pink has on a team. It brings out their more, er, shall we say, theatrical side. I now have visions of the players jazz-hands-ing all over the dressing room. Tap dancing isn’t all that different from ice-skating, is it?

I appear to have lost momentum and I’m not sure where I’m going with this post anymore. I think Saturday’s nerves have hit me, belatedly, as I write about yet another fantastic achievement for our lads and think of the mountain they have still to climb in the space of three short weeks. At the end of the day, 8th place is Dundee’s to lose. But we’d better make damn sure we push them every step of the way, and I have no doubt in my mind that we will. To reiterate a phrase which has become one of the catchphrases of the season, and a lot like myself and my obsession with large bearded Canadians, Vipers just don’t know when to quit. And I hope that stays true until the very last moment of the season, regardless of the final outcome. Whatever happens, they can be proud of themselves. D'aww, I feel I warm inside now. Group hug, everybody.

I Need a Hero... Part 2

Zamboni Girl - the sequel!! She's back, she's bad, and she's a danger to society. Well, to Dundee at any rate.



Stay tuned for more adventures from Zamboni Girl and Broccoli Boy... Parts 3 to 42 and of course the obligatory Prequel will be hitting your screens sometime this millennium!

Sat on by Giants... but still in the hunt

The end of the ice hockey season is looming all too large. It was tangible at Whitley Bay on Saturday night, as Viper fan discussion turned to the end of season awards, and the play-off weekend, but strangely enough, nothing beyond that. Approaching the end of the season is sort of like approaching a blind precipice. You know there has to be something beyond the edge, you just can’t figure out what it is. And you know that finding out is going to be more than a bit scary. And possibly quite painful.

It’s a wonder I’ve still got a job, or a social life outside of hockey at all, as I have been lovingly enveloped into hockey’s warm and inviting bosom over the last few months to the point where I literally can’t remember exactly what life was like without it. I have vague images in the murk of my distant memory of a time when I didn’t even know Newcastle HAD an ice hockey team – what on earth did I do then? It feels like so long ago. I can't even conceive a life without it now. Like an abnormal growth in your groin, it gets in the way a bit, and occupies your mind a lot of the time, but you're sort of used to it now and you wouldn't feel quite whole without it.

With that slightly bizarre reflection in mind I’m relishing every single game, in full-on ‘enjoy it while it lasts mode’. It feels as though I have seen a lot more of some teams than I have of others this season; Nottingham, Coventry and Edinburgh topping the list right down to Sheffield who I haven’t seen at all (thankfully as they’re like, really good and junk), and Belfast were a team who I enjoyed watching last time I saw them back in October despite the fact they beat us, so I was anticipating an enjoyable encounter on Saturday last. And it got off to a fantastic start as the Vipers took an unexpected early lead through Jaro Rzeszutko.

The first period was scrappy which suited us down to the ground. We were dogged and persistent, interrupting the Giants’ flow, and a hefty dose of gritty defending combined with a string of unbelievable, Herculean saves from Charlie Effinger – seriously, the dude has mad skills – meant that we went in at the period break with the score tied at 1-1. We couldn’t sustain the level of exertion however, despite having three Whitley Warriors players on the bench to bolster our dwindling numbers, and the Giants punished us early in the second period, dominating possession for over ten minutes and scoring three times in the period, twice from the powerplay. They probably would have scored even more had some of their number not taken it upon themselves to make some seriously ham-fisted attempts at shooting, presumably inspired by the spectacular penalty miss by Ashley Cole in the Chelsea v Everton FA Cup shoot-out earlier in the afternoon. Quite a few pucks were fired into the netting or out of the rink, and one even bounced back off of the rink ceiling – quite a feat.

There's a Yiddish proverb (no really, there is, I'm not making this up) that goes something like 'surrounding yourselves with dwarves does not make you a giant'. Well I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to argue on that point. It really kind of does. Our youngsters pulled their weight and the whole team gave it everything as always, but overall the lack of size and strength seemed to play a part, and the Giants really did look larger than life in comparison to our relatively slight team, particularly huge defenceman Mike Hoffman whose presence was imposing as he became the second person this season - after Brad Voth - to make Whitley Bay ice rink look like no more than a frozen puddle.

In place of photographic evidence this week, please see below an (highly respected) artist's impression of the key problem:

Giants player (left) has been scaled down. Vipers player (right); actual size. This doesn’t count as high-sticking, by the way, seeing as how it only reaches his waist.

There would have still been hope in the third period had the Vipers not been dog-tired and had Corey Neilson been the opposing coach (I jest! Or do I...), but sadly this wasn’t the case and the Giants added another three goals to their tally and made the trip back across the Irish sea happy with a clean, clinical and accomplished win. You can’t fail to have a soft spot for the Northern Irish side following their hilarious and endearing Christmas promotional video, but in addition to their extraordinary ability to perform an impressive coordinated dance routine, I have also to compliment the Giants on being the only team I’ve seen at Whitley Bay who have never shown a sniff of foul play, been overly belligerent, or tried to use our lack of numbers against us. Not that they needed to – they came, they played their game, and we could only trouble them for one period – it was a definitive win, but a deserved one, and executed with class. It’s refreshing in some ways to get through an entire hockey game without seeing a raised fist or feeling the need to hurl abuse at someone. It felt quite alien actually so I spent a portion of the following day hollering insults through the window at passers-by on my street instead, just to release some pent-up aggression.

Sunday was a different story as the Vipers chalked up a comprehensive road win over hapless Edinburgh, an assured display featuring hat-tricks from Mike Prpich and Jaro Rzeszutko which will surely boost confidence and more importantly brings us to within sniffing distance of the final play-off spot and well and truly puts the onus on the remaining fixtures, particularly those against our rivals for the spot, Dundee Stars. Will our poor exhausted players make it to the end of the season without keeling over? Will their tired, battered bodies last long enough for us to actually ice enough men to start a game by mid-March? Will I become known as ‘that mad wench at number 14’ by the other inhabitants of my street and be reported to the police? The answers to these, and other questions, in blogs to come!

Even the Bad Times are Good

As I’ve maintained since the beginning of my hockey journey, and indeed through all my sports-supporting endeavours, too much happiness is bad for you. It raises expectations, brings about a false sense of security and makes you a smug, complacent git. But there’s absolutely no chance of that with the Newcastle Vipers, so fear not. Whenever the stork of good luck flies overhead and drops a little bundle of happiness for this team, like the win over Nottingham for example, hot on its tail is a swiftly applied kick in the unmentionable parts by the stork’s lesser known but truly dastardly compatriot, the mallard of misery. But it’s for the best, trust me. Success is SO over-rated. Plus we’re British, and no-one likes a good moan more than us. What do Man United fans have to moan about for example? That their prawn sandwich didn't house the required level of marie rose sauce this week? No-one wants to be a Man United fan now, do they.

But just what is about this Vipers team, and bad luck? When I started writing this blog if someone had told me about the endless list of setbacks that my newly-discovered team were to face, and the crazy successes they would achieve despite them, I would have laughed in their ridiculous prophetic face. Just days after the glory of the amazing win over the Panthers, and his first goal of the season, and me finally taking the plunge buying a shirt with his name on the back, John Schwarz goes and gets himself injured. And puts the kybosh on our chances of reaching the play-offs. Or so you might think. Of all the players for the team to lose, Schwarz is arguably the most key. If I get my hands on whoever caused his injury I’ll… I’ll… probably call them sir and shake their hand. But I’ll be really rude about them behind their backs. Quietly.

So we took to the ice a depleted side on Saturday, down to just 9 skaters; portents of doom hung in the air as we faced an Edinburgh Capitals side desperate for a win. An element of bitterness has crept into the race for the last play-off spot and the three teams battling in the basement of the league have no love lost between them, the Capitals as much a part of ‘import-gate’ as Dundee Stars. I had a bad feeling.

But thankfully it quickly dissipated as it became clear that sadly (for them), the Capitals are quite a poor side. There was no time to waste feeling sorry for them this time, and we skated rings around them, literally, in the first period, piling the pressure on in a series of what appeared to be beautifully executed training exercises, although sadly not racking up the scoreline quite as much as Vipers fans would have hoped; it seemed as though we should have doubled our two goal lead at least by the first period break. Who said offence was the best defence? Some sort of American, presumably, but despite this regrettable handicap whoever the person was had it spot on, on this occasion. We pounded the Capitals’ goal and didn’t give them much of a chance to reply, and even when they did it was to little effect.

Despite this, the slender two goal lead began to feel precarious in the second period, the Capitals tightening up and responding with two goals of their own, and our weakened defence starting to tire, but thankfully by the end of the second period we were 5-2 up. Thanks to, er, some goals, and Vipers fans were able to breathe freely once again.

Films like Avatar and Toy Story seem intent on telling everyone that 3D is a good thing these days. But in hockey terms, it’s quite clear that it’s really not and Hollywood needs to stop talking out of its rear end. However, our ‘3D’ gave their all tonight, and my ode from last week’s blog post still stands. Bearing in mind they’re all under 5’7” and one of them isn’t even a defenceman by trade, they work damn hard, and in the case of Sammy Zajac even have time to settle a score with an adversary, throwing down the gloves as he did against Edinburgh’s Iain Bowie for some reason or other. Great fun. Poor Kyle Sibley must have wondered what crimes he’d committed in a previous life, being the only real defencemen left on the ice as Zajac sat out his five minute major, and looking pretty weary when his shift finally came to an end. The Vipers fans collectively sighed with relief that he actually made it through the game at all without injury.

Don't mess with Sammy Zajac. He will fold you in half and use your head as percussion.

We scored two more goals in the third to put the game to bed and make it safely through our first Schwarz-less game unscathed. Methinks it may not be quite as easy in games to come…

Just to check, to any readers of mine who aren’t already hockey fans, are you STILL not going to see hockey yet? And if not, why the hell not? Scared you might like it? It’s dangerously addictive, I grant you that. But don't be afraid little ones. Resistance is futile! Come! Be hockey’ed! Directly in your FACE! If you’re in the Newcastle area, why not start this weekend? We’re playing Belfast Giants at Whitley Bay ice rink this Saturday (19th February), face-off is at 7:00 and it should be a great night’s entertainment! Our opponents are actual GIANTS!* And as we speed inexorably towards the end of the season, it’s one of your last chances to see pro ice hockey in the north-east for some time to come – don’t find yourself wishing you could have seen a game when it’s too late – just do it! DO IT NOW! Tickets available here: http://bit.ly/hLzxmn

*They’re not. Although they may appear to be, when standing next to our players!

Sweet dreams are made of this

It’s the stuff hit movies are made of. I’ve run out of superlatives to describe this Vipers team, and their achievements this season, and in truth I could probably just go back to the win over the Panthers a couple of weeks ago and reel out some of the same material, but it simply wouldn’t do justice to the night we had at Whitley Bay on Sunday. And I think I need to engage in a blow-by-blow written account, not just for posterity but to try and convince myself that what happened, actually did happen. I can’t deal with it all in one go so I will employ the use of chapters as I attempt to recreate the scenes that unfolded.

Chapter 1: Tensions rise

Billed as the ‘Bash at the Bay’, the Vipers team took to the ice resplendent in Hawaiian shirt-style jerseys which were, well, eye-catching to say the least. After the humiliating 15-0 defeat at the hands of the Nottingham Panthers on their territory last week, it was clear to see from early on in the game that the Vipers were in no mood to allow a repeat performance. They defended tightly and made their presence felt; having played each other twice in the last two weeks, there were obviously personal scores to be settled, and players clashed early on, John Schwarz coming to blows with Panthers Coach Corey Neilson inside ten minutes and Mike Prpich, giving not a jot for his personal safety, tussled with Guy Lepine shortly afterwards in a situation that threatened to get out of hand.

The tension was almost unbearable, as the match officials made a string of poor decisions and struggled to control the game, frustrations bubbled over and it seemed likely that someone could get seriously hurt. I actually felt sick with nerves; the hostility in the air was so tangible you could have bottled and sold it to Celtic and Rangers fans, and the game could have boiled over at any moment, Sam Zajac and John Schwarz continuing to fan the flames of conflict even after Prpich and Lepine had taken their seats. Luckily the period ended and gave everyone a chance to cool down, but not before a lengthy debate with the referee and linesmen took place on the ice. Oh to have been a fly on the hoardings for that one!

The Cubist version of Mike Prpich.

Lepine: Prpich, baby! How dare you trim your luscious beard! How dare you! Your beautiful chin will get cold! I shall remove the hair from your head in protest and stick it to your face!

Chapter 2: War of Attrition

The second period started out somewhat more sedately, the period break seemingly imbuing a sense of calm on the previously enraged collection of hockey players. Unfortunately, Panthers added to their lead just a few minutes in, we went 3-0 down and the game took on a familiar feeling of inevitability. The lead lasted nearly the whole period, as the teams worked to try and wear each other down, the Panthers' version of this mostly consisting of incessant foul-play, culminating in the sucker-punch in the Lepine/Prpich saga at around 17 minutes in when Lepine decided to propel his playthings out of the cot-like four-wheeled baby carriage, and received a game penalty for behaving like a little girl in the playground. Well, actually I think it was for third man in, but he pulled Mike Prpich’s hair plenty and if there was a penalty for that, he would have been done twice over. Prpich did some ‘bashing at the bay’ of his own and the two exchanged pleasantries in the penalty box following the incident before Lepine headed off for an early bath. (Ha! As if Whitley Bay ice rink has a bath! Cold hose-down, more like!)

Then, in the closing minutes of the period, we scored a goal through Danny Stewart, and it was game on.

Chapter 3: Ode to Defencemen

O Defencemen, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
You are all most valiant warriors, enlightening my days.
Boom!
I love thee Kyle Sibley, with your short-handed scoring skills
Bam!
And even more for your second goal, which brought hope back to Hill(head)s
Bosh!
The amazing Sammy Zajac, like Persil, small and mighty.
John Schwarz, tall and noble, strong and bold and somewhat fight-y.
Bada-boom!
Oh how you picked your moment to net your first, you beauty
And Danny Stewart too, for even though you are playing out of position, you still technically count as a defencemen for the purposes of this poem and you scored the winning goal and you filled my heart with joy.
Yay!

Wow I am so awesome at poetry! I may well write to the Queen and demand she installs me as the new Poet Laureate as a matter of urgency. That English degree sure is paying off now, eh Mum and Dad!

Chapter 4: What really happened

When the Panthers went 4-1 up five minutes into the third period, many a fan would have effectively felt this equalled game over. Thankfully, hockey fans know better, and when Corey Neilson and his unpredictable Panthers are in town, anything can, and usually does, happen. Taking a leaf out of Arsene Wenger’s book following his team’s incredible throwing away of a 4-0 lead against the footballing Geordies on Saturday, Neilson is a coach who takes losing a lead to new lows. The Vipers battled back to 4-3 through a brace from Kyle Sibley, and then tied the score at 4-4 through Toms Hartmanis following yet another outstanding save from Charlie Effinger. There were 7 minutes to go.

4 minutes to go. David-Alexandre Beauregard converts a powerplay opportunity to take the lead for the Panthers. 5-4. Time to throw in the towel? Not a chance. Stick with me, sports-fans.

1.5 minutes to go. I was almost perfectly positioned up in the stands - directly in John Schwarz’ sight-line as he received the puck and travelled up the left wing - to see him pick out the shot, and to see that there was nothing in his way. Every single person in that ice rink saw it coming. Except Panthers netminder, Dan Green, that is. Schwarz took aim and let rip a monstrous slapshot. That goal was inevitability incarnate. I’m certain I started cheering a split second before the net bulged as the puck flew in.

The place erupted. The crowd had been increasing in volume throughout the game and the roof was now lifting right off. I’d been waiting for that goal all season and wondered if it was ever coming. I’ve no doubt John had as well. What a time to score it. We're not worthy! and all that jazz.

1 minute to go. Vipers called a time-out. God only knows what was said but in the movie version of this story (coming soon to a theatre near you), Danny will be making an inspirational speech about triumph over adversity, wreaking a poetic revenge for the injustices of the previous game, and how tough guys shouldn’t pull hair.

20 seconds to go. Stewart receives the pass from… oh I can’t even remember. Hartmanis? It’s all a blur. He has sight of goal, brilliant positioning from the Coach who’s thrown all notion of covering in defence out of the window to take up his rightful position in front of net. Somewhere, someone stops time. There’s a moment of complete silence and everyone is frozen where they stand, faces captured in exquisite anticipation. Then someone starts time again. The goal goes in. Hugging, screaming, stamping, ridiculous dancing, an epic on-ice pile-on. These all occur simultaneously. Loudly. And riotously.

17 seconds to go. Everyone suddenly remembers the game isn’t over and focus returns to the ice, but it’s too late for the Panthers, and as the seconds count down the Vipers fans poise themselves to go completely and utterly mental.

2 seconds to go. The puck is cleared down the ice and it’s all over.

Players and fans lose the plot. It all goes blurry. If the ice wasn't encased in a plastic wall, I have no doubt the fans would have invaded the rink en masse. My half-full bottle of cider has long since been tipped across the floor. I don’t even care. That’s what this means.

Unbridled joy. And terror, for anyone standing too close. When did Danny lose a tooth, anyway? He looks quite alarming.

Chapter 5: The Aftermath

Corey Neilson, you fine figure of a man, with your Sexy Neilson Hockey you are really spoiling us. You continue to provide the hockey fans of Great Britain and Northern Ireland with unbeatable entertainment and for that we salute you. I honestly thought nothing could top the last time we beat the Panthers but the nature of this victory means that it actually has. It has gone straight into my top 3 sporting occasions of all time, fact. Sheer brilliance, the fairytale ending you couldn’t have dared to hope for. You literally could not make this up. This is why the best sporting movies are based on true stories.

Don't think I can't see you skulking off in the background there, Corey me old fruit. Not feeling so sexy now, are we? Never mind son. Go and have a cuddle with Jade and make it all better.

Just when I thought this sport could not get any more exciting, this team any more gutsy and brave, and this experience more perfect, it does. Sore throat? Check. Sore hands? Check. Heart bursting with pride? Check. Earlier in the season I said ice hockey was like a terminal illness; well after the infarction-inducing drama of Sunday night I’ll go one step further than that. I think it probably takes years off your life. But they’re the years you’ll be smelling of cabbage and knocking out teenagers with walking sticks anyway so what the hey. For nights like this, it’s worth it.

I reeled out the clichés after the last win over the Panthers so I don’t think I need to this time. Needless to say, we deserved the win. And needless to say, we were brave, strong, ballsy and determined, and lots of other words that mean all those things. Needless to say it probably won’t make any difference in the long run, as needless to say we are still up the proverbial creek without a propulsion device, cash-wise. But needless to say that regardless of what happens in the future, no-one can take this feeling away from me, or any of the other fans who were there to witness it, or those who couldn't be there but were following in spirit, or any of the players who I am sure will go onto future clubs with the story of the night they won the one of the most amazing games they ever played in (yes, yes they will).

Hyperbole and superlatives exhausted, I will retire to a darkened room and attempt to recover my long-lost composure. Hockey really is the craziest rollercoaster ride I’ve ever been on. And with highs like this, who even cares about the lows.