As part of our Whirlwind Winter Classic Vacation™, we had to check out the Coke Zero™ Fan Zone™ at the Sirius/XM™ Hockeytown Winter Festival™ on Saturday. (Pretty much everything in that last sentence is trademarked except the word ‘Saturday’).
It turned out to be the perfect day to visit as it was a balmy 47 degrees. In fact, it was so unseasonably warm that they had to delay the start of the Great Lakes Invitational™ three and a half hours so the sun would be lower and the ice would have a chance to firm up.
The Coke Zero Fan Zone™ was free to folks with tickets to each day’s events, but you could get in for a five dollar fee. I would venture that is was worth four dollars. Certainly the atmosphere was festive, what with plenty of stands selling State Fair type cuisine (Elephant Ears!) and firepits set up for roasting marshmallows (marshmallows not included in ticket price). Wings and Leafs fans mingled freely without incident. Even the guy decked out in Ohio State gear remained unmolested.
Our first step was to visit one of the many merchandise locations to purchase appropriate headgear for Dwayne (AKA Long Suffering Partner or LSP) since as Floridians we don’t normally have a need for a toques. And it was only $30! The Leafs locker room trailer provided a terribly unthrilling up close look at various player’s jerseys whereas the Wings locker setup was much better. (Full disclosure: it was the same experience, but my pro-Wings bias wins out here)
There were plenty of events for kids like a pick up street hockey rink, synthetic ice surface open skate, and a Red Wings goalie mask bounce house. (All requiring signed waivers to participate) Also, “Snowzilla” with the official explanation “It’s like sliding down a snow-covered hill and is the only one of its kind in the U.S.” Since it was a five dollar upcharge, and I had plenty of actual snow-covered hills in the area from which to choose, I opted out of this experience.
The NHL Network™ tent let you make a video about “Your Goal In 2014™”. LSP and I decided our goal was to not freeze our asses off at the game. Said video has a chance of appearing on the NHL Network. My guess is it’s a snowball’s chance in hell. We didn’t see any point to visiting the Verizon tent as I have seen enough of their ads touting NHL GameCenter™ on one of their many tablet devices.
In fact, my big complaint is that the Fan Zone™ was really one enormous ad where you had to fill out forms with email, physical address, and phone number to get anything. Certainly that was the purpose of the Bridgestone® tent – a huge tire display with wintry pine trees and TVs blaring the joys of treads while you waited in line to take a photo in Winter Classic jerseys. Note in this photo, I am shooting left handed. I would be a right hand shot (if I had the slightest idea what I was doing), but for photo-op purposes, I switched for better staging.
We could’ve tried the Slapshot Challenge™ but someone had already hit an 88 mph shot and seriously, if I had attempted it, I most likely would’ve hit myself with the stick somehow. And I would have filled out a waiver meaning I couldn’t sue.
Even the Molson CANADIAN HOCKEY HOUSE™ with its table top hockey games and local bands (of dubious quality) was really a glorified beer haus.
Although, they did have one of three Alumni Autograph locations which at the time was occupied by Kris Draper – my favorite of the famous Grind Line. Dino Ciccarelli was in the Red Wings Experience tent, but has not aged as well as one might have hoped. Drapes, being a ginger, has fared far better. Inside the Red Wings Experience™ (which sounds like a cover band to me) was a stage where they were holding a trivia contest. In our fifteen minutes in the tent, not one of the three contestants answered a question correctly thus mocking the idea that it was a Fan Zone™.
But for me, the crowning jewel of the Festival was the Hockey Hall Of Fame™ (also trademarked) tent displaying memorabilia (a Patrick Roy Canadiens jersey! BOO! Red Wing pucks from their Stanley Cup victory over the Penguins! YAY!) and various trophies like the Conn Smythe, Ted Lindsay, and Rocket Richard.
The Stanley Cup wasn’t in attendance. It wouldn’t appear until Monday, but that’s okay as it was an extra five dollar charge to get a photo with it and LSP and I already have a picture with the Cup we took for free at a Lightning game. As a matter of fact, there’s also a photo of Other Gay Hockey Friend and I beveling next to the Cup like Price Is Right™ showgirls. And really, isn’t that what photo ops are all about? (Oh, and have I mentioned my Dad drank from the Stanley Cup?)
Now while we would love to watch one of the Alumni Showdowns, we are from Florida and are not about to stand outside in 18 degree weather two days in a row. We would rather save hypothermia for the Winter Classic. And anyway, on Tuesday, I’m dragging LSP through the Henry Ford Museum™ where we will ogle the chair in which Lincoln was sitting in Ford’s Theatre (no relation) when John Wilkes Booth so rudely interrupted the performance of “Our American Cousin©”. Because we are cultural gays. Hopefully, I’ll be able to tweet during the game without frostbite attacking first. Check back later for exclusive coverage only available on this site!
Eric Pinder™ (@operahockeyguy on Twitter) is a highly talented and employable actor/director/writer/hyphenate who is currently updating his resume. In his spare time, he tweets about opera, hockey and the plantar warts on the balls of his feet. He is working on a hockey opera, but isn’t sure which team should win.
Last time we spoke about the Lightning, it was to say a bittersweet farewell to beloved team captain Vinny Lecavalier. Now we introduce the captain, revealed after an incredibly drawn out ceremony to the complete surprise of absolutely no one, Marty St. Louis. And of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?
He has been a leader of the team not just in stats, but by his conduct on and off the ice. His legendary off-season workout regimen is awe-inspiring and his mentoring of younger players – Steven Stamkos in particular – has been just as valuable as any coach’s advice (definitely 200% better than anything Barry Melrose could have done.
Marty replacing Vinny as captain is a no-brainer. But replacing him as a player? Tougher. True, Vinny’s points were down over the years and injuries hampered his skating and shooting abilities, but he is still an effective playmaker. GM Steve Yzerman was willing to gamble $5 million for five years on Valtteri Filppula knowing some of his skill from his stint with the Red Wings. He scored our lone goal in our loss against the Bruins on opening night.
Val seems like a good fit for the second line center with Teddy Purcell and Alex Killorn. Of course, it would be unfair to compare Vinny to Val, so by all means, let’s do just that.
Filppula’s stick handling may be better than Vinny’s currently but Val does come from a team famed for its puck possession (the Detroit Red Wings). Val is a more physical player, unafraid to use his body for hitting and blocking shots. But it will be impossible to achieve the level of adoration that Vinny has from the fan base… unless he helps the Bolts win a Stanley Cup. Just sayin’.
But now, the comparison all discerning Puckbuddys have been eagerly anticipating: The Dreaminess Factor (Trademark Pending). Vinny is a lovely intense dark-haired dreamboat while Val has the classic Nordic beauty of a jaded Abercrombie model. Let’s just call it apples and oranges.
For their first draft pick in the third position, the Lightning selected forward Jonathan Drouin who had a strong training camp, but was still sent back to Juniors for the year.
He played well in preseason games, often paired with Stamkos because, let’s face it, Marty isn’t going to be around forever to dish those passes to Stammer. But Drouin himself admitted he wasn’t prepared for the speed of the game in the NHL and Yzerman comes from an organization that likes its younger players to take their time to develop (was it noted that the organization was the Detroit Red Wings? Just checking).
Another player with an excellent preseason who didn’t make the roster was Brett Connolly who was squeezed out of the lineup by the fantastic play of the 3rd line consisting of Richard Panik, Tyler Johnson, and Ondrej Palat (he of the improbably spelled name).
Yzerman felt that Connolly needed to be back down in the minor affiliate of Syracuse playing big minutes there instead of being a 4th line alternate.
Although, let’s face it, he’ll be back when Ryan Malone injures himself.
When the Lighting drafted a forward in the first round, the internets and twitters exploded with cries of fanboys frothing at the mouth worried that they didn’t pick a defensive player. (seriously, there was rending of garments). But the development of defensemen always takes awhile, take Victor Hedman (perennial fan whipping boy) who has to his credit, improved his game considerably.
Hedman has spoken in the press of how he understands that this year he must really prove himself and he will probably see a bulk of the minutes paired with Sami Salo. Brewer had a horrible season and since he is a nice guy and attractive, let’s not speak of that again and merely say his stats can only get better.
With Mathias Ohlund still on the payroll but not playing (although can anyone blame him?), the Bolts are relying on players who came up from the minors last year and proved themselves like Radko Gudas (Bushiest Non-Playoff Beard In Hockey!) and Andej Sustr.
Yzerman traded Cory Conacher to Ottawa for Ben Bishop, because something had to be done to improve the goaltending. Neither Bishop nor Anders Lindback (22 saves from 25 shots on opening night) have ever been the #1 netminder so they will split the duties until one of the them proves to be irreplaceable. Or more likely when one of them gets injured, the other one becomes the #1 starter. I’m hoping that the demise of the 1-3-1 leads to less odd man rushes and fewer quality chances on goal.
Speaking of which, the biggest change is the first full year for new coach Jon Cooper who doesn’t seem to rely on a set kind of system. He has stated that the goal is puck possession (hmm…. that sounds familiar) and mentioned adjectives like “sandpaper” and “gritty” in describing the kind of play he wanted from his players. He has singled out Ryan Malone as an example (probably the reason RyRy wasn’t bought out of his contract as was widely rumored). Malone is an effective big bodied forward, but is oft injured for long stretches. And then re-injured the game he returns.
Oh right, and there’s that whole new Flortheast Division thing where the Lightning don’t get the luxury of having the Carolina Hurricanes be the last place team. That will be the Florida Panthers. (ZING!) Facing the likes of Detroit, Montreal and Ottawa on a regular basis will force this team to improve, or just ensure that they get the first round draft pick next year.
Eric Pinder is an actor, writer, director, and Director In Residence for the Florida Opera Theatre. He is indeed writing the libretto for a hockey opera tentatively called “Goaliedammerung”. He is looking for work in January. Resume available on request. He will grudgingly perform at childrens parties, but no balloon animals. You can follow him on twitter @operahockeyguy where rude jokes are tastefully couched in sarcasm. Or opera references. Jean Bealiveau once punched his father in the face.
I’ve been a fan of Russian history and culture since my teenage years. (Full Disclosure: I used to believe that if Trotsky had become the leader, the Soviet Union might have prospered. Since learning that Stalin was always waiting in the wings for his power grab, I understand how naïve this belief was.)
I was somewhat shocked to see Stephen Fry (also a Russophile) calling so vehemently for a boycott of the Olympic Games in Sochi due to their new law deeming the discussion of homosexuality to be a criminal offense. It’s not that I don’t agree that these laws are heinous, but it just seems like so much grandstanding and, pardon the expression, ‘clutching of the pearls’.
It’s foolish to think that the Olympics could be moved at this late date, or that a boycott of a Russian Vodka distilled in Latvia might change any policy. But I give credit to the protestors bashing bottles of Stoli outside Russian consulates like some hellbent Carrie Nations – at least they are drawing attention to the situation.
And what an appalling situation it is. The law, while somewhat vague, forbids any “propaganda” that may “promote homosexuality” or “promotion of non-traditional sexual relations among minors” which raises the threat of athletes and spectators being jailed for even mentioning that they have gay and lesbian friends. But all the righteous indignation mustered at protests around the world won’t change this draconian stance.
The Russian people are used to being scolded by the western powers about their policies. And the International Olympic Committee is supporting the Russians by declaring that “no kind of demonstration or political, religious or racial propaganda is permitted in any Olympic sites, venues or other areas” which completely ignores the fact that this is a human rights issue. But such distinctions matter not to this governing body who in essence want gay athletes to stay in the closet for the duration of the games.
So what are the options to counteract this travesty? Individual countries could boycott the Olympics, but that would deny their athletes a chance to compete for a long held dream. Indeed, many countries like the United States and Great Britian have already ruled this out, so it seems unlikely. The I.O.C. could take it on themselves to bar the Russian contingent, but this also seems unlikely given that they support the Russian stance.
The most likely scenario is that the Olympics will go on as planned with some athletes (and maybe spectators) willing to risk arrest by flouting the law. Indeed, there is a Gay Pride Rally planned for a few hours before the opening ceremonies begin which will be a test for the authorities to see if they feel like using force right before their time on the world’s sporting stage. (Interestingly, Nick Symmonds has already defied the ban by dedicating his silver medal at the World Athletics Championships to his gay and lesbian friends in an interview with Russian media without any ill effects. So far.)
There is another option.
There is an old Slavic tradition of the “yurodivy” – a ‘holy fool’ – a person who gave up all his worldly possessions to become a solitary monk or hermit and used unconventional means to challenge authority. By the 17th century however, the yurodivy is seen more as a symbol in artistic works than in real life. Solomon Volkov in his book “Testimony” has an excellent defintion:
The yurodivy has the gift to see and hear what others know nothing about. But he tells the world about his insights in an intentionally paradoxical way, in code. He plays the fool, while actually being a persistent exposer of evil and injustice. The yurodivy is an anarchist and individualist, who in his public role breaks the commonly held ‘moral’ laws of behavior and flouts conventions. But he sets strict limitations, rules and taboos for himself.” Volkov, xxi
Certainly a figure skater (male OR female) wearing an over-the-top sparkly outfit and performing to “Macho Man” by the Village People would qualify as a subversive act, yet is not illegal. Because here’s the thing about this ridiculous decree. No one is denying homosexuality exists. The law merely refers to trying to keep the idea of “non-traditional sexual relations” from minors for their own protection. But anytime you forbid teenagers to see something, they are going to do anything in their power to find out what it is. And that may be the most insidious weapon of all in this fight.
Any gesture of support for the Russian LGBQT population, overt or in code, will reinforce the notion that they are not alone and that others like them around the world continue to make strides towards equality. And it seems like many are willing to risk being detained and hassled by the Russian authorities to prove that.
And if the Village People isn’t figure skating music, perhaps this:
Eric Pinder is an actor, writer, and Director In Residence for the Florida Opera Theatre. He is fond of the Russian composers Prokofiev, Shostakovich, Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninoff, and Scriabin. Maybe not Glinka. His long awaited hockey opera will not be in Russian. Follow Eric on twitter: @operahockeyguy
What buried him was that ridiculous front-loaded contract left to the current management by the previous regime (aka The Clown Show). But Mattias Ohlund’s shredded knees put him on IR, so you can’t buy him out (ah, the vagaries of the CBA – if you are paying them not to play, why does it matter if they can actually play?) and they hope that Ryan Malone has trade value when paired with a draft pick, so that leaves Vinny and his $7.7 million hit. The Lightning will be paying him $32.67 million through the 2016-2017 season so they won’t get away cheaply, but at least it won’t count against their cap.
Still for those of us who view him as the face of the franchise, it will be tough. He did rack up some impressive achievements during his 1000 plus games as a Lightning including being a 4 time All Star, picking up the Rocket Richard and King Clancy trophies, along with a Stanley Cup which included an historic bout with Jarome Iginla.
I remember that fight well mainly because I was worried they would ruin their good looks. No, I kid, it was a turning point to the series in Game 3, and when it’s played on the jumbotron as a highlight of Lightning history, it is lustily cheered by the crowd. And how many Stanley Cup winners have been in a movie? Vinny played Jean Beliveau in The Rocket. It was a god awful made for TV film (propaganda, is my father’s take on it) but still. There’s no point in watching it. (Fun Fact: I found a copy on Amazon for $2 – the shipping was more – and got Vinny to sign it!)
His charity work is also impressive earning him an NHL Foundation Award. He has been tireless in his support of the community including donating three million dollars to help start the Vincent Lecavalier Pediatric Cancer and Blood Disorders Center at All Children’s Hospital. He will continue all his fund-raising even if he moves to a different team.
He views Tampa Bay as his home and plans to raise his family here. Not to mention his dreamy good looks. Those limpid, lanquid eyes. I imagine the Lightning will retire his number as a goodwill gesture for all he’s done for the team and the city – not necessarily for his model like visage.
But lest you think everything is perfect in “VinnieWorld”, let’s look objectively at the past couple of seasons. The injuries which have hampered his career (shoulder, wrist, ankle, possible concussion, maybe weltschmertz?) continue to bother him. His once potent slapshot is not as accurate as days of yore, but he is still a great playmaker and while they’ve dwindled over the years, his point totals this (shortened) season were just under one a game. I’m sure arguing with the likes of John Tortorella and Rick Tocchet took its mental toll. Not to mention the constant trade rumors he endured before Steve Yzerman became General Manager and said that Vinny would not be going away. Oops. Awkward.
More respectful objectification reminiscences after the jump
I have no doubt that Vinny will find work with another team at a much lower salary. The Red Wings keep popping up as a possible destination since they need a good center since Valtterri Filppula hasn’t payed off. And as Wings fan, I’d love to see him center a line with Datsyuk and Zetterberg. But this is @hockeyguynyc territory, so I’ll refrain from further comment. Point is, Vinny seems very motivated to go out and win with a new team. I just hope it’s not with the Habs. Obviously, we wish him the best and will miss his pretty face during interviews.
Now we need a new captain. I’m just going to go ahead and give it to Marty St. Louis this years’ winner of the Art Ross and Lady Bing Trophies. (The oldest recipient of the Art Ross might I add) He is already what is considered the “heart and soul” of the team: a selfless individual who will do what has to be done to win games. He is notorious for his fierce workout regime. Never drafted by the Lightning, he made the team through hard work and determination. As an example, I was at a Lightning game where they were playing Pittsburgh and were down by three (and two of the Pens goals were shorthanded). I watched Marty take the puck end to end and score a goal. It was though he skated around the Pens through sheer will. The team rallied back to win in OT. These are the kinds of clutch goals that he scores on a regular basis.
Stamkos’ name also appears as a leader, but just as Stammer has benefited from being under Marty’s wing (or more accurately being Stammer’s right winger) and developed as a better all around player, I think that he would absorb many valuable lessons from Marty’s captaincy. Really, either one is fine with me. What’s more important is what they do with the money freed up with Vinny gone. If Yzerman brings in another Alex Tanguay or Simon Gagne who ends up being merely mediocre, that money will be wasted and so will the fans’ goodwill.
Eric Pinder (@operahockeyguy) is an actor, writer, Director In Residence for the Florida Opera Theatre and performer of some notoriety on Orlando stages (resume available upon request). His hockey opera “Goaliedammerung” is still in the works, but he is currently adapting Dickens’ “Pickwick Papers” for the stage which is just as exciting as you might imagine. His father drank from the Stanley Cup and was also punched in the face by Jean Beliveau.
Still firing a coach before the end of a season (hell, before the end of a ROAD TRIP!) smacks of a desperation akin to a TV show bringing in a new character to boost sagging ratings. In other words, if you have to bring in Chachi (or Poochie), you may have already jumped the shark.
But how did it get this bad for the Lightning? Surely, last season was a suckfest. Steven Stamkos still won the Rocket Richard with a sixty goal season but really I think that’s all that can be said that was positive. Many lay the blame on GM Steve Yzerman’s decision to resign Dwayne Roloson after an impressive playoff run. But Roli proved he wasn’t up to the task for another year and had an abysmal 3.66 GA and .886 save percentage leaving an inconsistent Mattieu Garon to take over – if he wasn’t hurt.
This season (once it finally started after the Dadaist farce that was the lockout with overripe melodrama and intrigue seemingly lifted from a late Tennessee Williams play was supposed to be different. Yzerman addressed the goalie issue by getting Anders Lindback who was working out well until the groin injury and the subsequent high ankle sprain (the high ankle sprain is to goalies what consumption is to soprano heroines in opera – it lingers until they die in Act IV) left us with the ever shaky Garon.
Stevie Y also brought in more defense (since Mattias Ohlund’s knees are apparently only tissue paper now and he will never skate again) with Matt Carle and Sammy Salo who is considered a ‘stay at home’ defenseman (I really hate that term – it makes it sound like he’s at the blue line ironing and watching “Ellen” while the rest of the team does the work).
Their job was to assist perennial fan whipping boy Victor Hedman and Eric “Bruiser” Brewer. To be fair, Victor has been improving. Yes, there’s still the odd reverse up the boards to the opposing team, or deflecting the puck into his own net, but he’s also shooting the puck more with four goals on the season. He’s even earned a spot in the shootouts. He’s currently plus six on the season despite the horrendous giveaways he makes usually every three games.
And certainly the Lightning started very well going 6-2. Captain Vinny Lecavalier was playing a more physical game getting into two fights (of course both of those were against the Flyers – which is no surprise – if those thugs had a mascot, it would be a mugshot). Inspirational feel-good story Cory Conacher made the team and was racking up points earning him consideration for Rookie of the Year. Then came the road trip.
The Lightning have had their road woes in the past but this was truly something special. The only game they didn’t lose on that trip was the Boston game delayed because of huge storm. But once they got home, they still kept losing. It got so bad that our beloved homer announcers Rick Peckham and Bobby “The Chief” Taylor were trying to drum up excitement at one point by announcing that the Lightning were only SEVEN POINTS out of the playoffs. And this is in the Southeast Division (aka ‘The Losing-est Teams in The League’).
Oh right, and then the injuries. Practically everyone was injured once if not multiple times. Ryan Malone pulled a groin during the pregame soccer game in the hallway. Once back, he injured his shoulder on a check. Vinny was out with his foot (again). Salo got hurt and when he got back, Hedman went out. The rotating roster (which sounds dirty but isn’t) allowed several callups from Syracuse which has gone well, and bodes well for the future of the organization.
For example: Alex Killorn has seven goals, plays very well, and has a killer smile. Ryan Malone still wins in the adorable smile category since his eyes sparkle and beam. Killorn’s smile is more intense – like maybe he’s thinking about beating you up. A quick digression on groin injuries: Why are there so many? Are there not enough people to massage the thighs of hockey players? I know plenty of people (me) who will gladly volunteer. Oh pardon me, I’ve just been informed that apparently you have to be certified to rub the genital area. Strange, I’ve never had anyone ask me for credentials before.
The biggest offender of the season was really apathetic play. Even Marty St. Louis, normally so energized and dynamic, seemed to be just ‘skating through the motions’ as though awaiting the endgame (not the fun Beckett Endgame).
Now I don’t have access to the locker room (Please Lightning, let me visit the locker room. I promise I won’t steal any gear), so I won’t pretend I completely understand the team’s mentality, but it seemed as though the players had given up on Coach Boucher’s system. But I’m also sure that Boucher wasn’t saying “Make blind passes that lead to giveaways in the defensive zone” which seemed de rigueur for each game.
Yzerman said that he decided to fire Boucher after the first period of the Ottawa game on 3/23. It should be noted that they Lightning did try to come back in that game, but the die was cast. (alia iacta est, bitches) Let’s also note that the Lightning have the best Third Period goal differential in the league. That may also be because opponents are playing with, oh say a three or four goal lead, and they fall into a stupor and allow the Lightning to score. Sure, it’s fun to watch the Lightning tie up the game with only seconds left, but you know what else is fun? Watching your team actually play with the lead, that’s fun.
Coach Boucher, fired before the game in Winnipeg (which they still lost), was a class act all the way. He wished the organization all the best and even flew back and thanked all the staff for their hard work. He will be missed for his laser focused ‘Death Stare’ (patent pending) and his non PC mocking of officials. Also, I still long to ask him about his conversations with Scotty Bowman as I’m so curious what those lovers of head games might have discussed.
To replace a coach who came from the AHL, you obviously find another AHL coach. Although, it may be more about the fact that new coach Jon Cooper had already coached many of the team when they were on the Syracuse Crunch. He also seems to be more of a ‘player’s coach’ (And what does that mean? Is it like the ‘Player’s Club?’), but I notice that in interviews he still has the ‘deer in headlights’ look. It can’t be easy to suddenly take over a struggling team filled with people you barely know and come up with some miraculous plan when the team still struggles to get the puck out of their own zone without coughing it up.
Some help has arrived in the form of goalie Ben Bishop. True, the Bolts gave up Cory Conacher and a draft pick, but Bishop has proved pretty solid. He seems focused and calm, reads the play well, and possesses a fairly mean poke check. Plus, he’s a big body who moves well. (Another phrase I hate – if he moved poorly, he wouldn’t be a goalie) Still, in must win situations, the team still comes up short. There are flashes of brilliance: hard work in the corner leading to a goal, brilliant defensive play that looks effortless, but these are few and far between. Mostly, they manage to win games only if the other team loses them first.
Who will show up next season? Will there be a new coach? Maybe some buyouts of fan favorites suckling on the salary cap teat? Will the GM be replaced mid-season? There might be more changes in personnel than the new season of Downton Abbey. If only we could get Maggie Smith on skates. P.S. – Follow the adventures of #DowntonHockey.
Eric Pinder is an actor, writer, Director in Residence for Florida Opera Theatre, and performer of various theme park extravaganzas. He is writing a hockey opera currently titled “Das Rinkgold.” You can follow him on Twitter @operahockeyguy. His dad was once punched in the face by Jean Beliveau. Yes, that Jean Beliveau.
Should I shave? No, the rugged look should be fine, the beard isn’t grizzled yet. So I’ll wear jeans, but which top? I don’t want to wear some other jersey, that might look to desperate. I’ll opt for my green striped pullover (vertical stripes of course). But why all this concern for sartorial style? There’s a new suitor in town vying for my affections. After a long ‘hibernation’ the Orlando Solar Bears have returned! When last we saw them in the 2000-2001 season they won the Turner Cup! And then their league folded – which short of an actual lockout is the worst momentum killer for a team. (I’m looking at you, NHL).
I took a vacation day (use them or lose them) and attended an open team practice before the preseason began and walked in just as they were hitting the ice. As they circled around and fired pucks at the empty net, I heard more hits off the boards and glass then anything. For all I know, that’s how they begin each practice, trying to keep pucks out of the net. I had downloaded a handy roster from the team website, but it didn’t seem to match up. Number Four is supposed to be 6’7” and 221lbs but he was one of the shorter players on the ice. It was then that I discovered that the number on the helmet was completely different. So the numbers on the practice jerseys mean nothing. Did no one do laundry? What’s going on? So by getting closer to the boards, I was able to see the helmet numbers and identify the players.
They started with some one on one drills that looked like they were designed to force the players to really fight for the puck and their positioning. But really, I have no idea. I couldn’t hear what coach was barking to the players. His voice came across like one of the teachers in a Peanuts special except instead of that trombone sound it was like a goose with an adenoid problem and a two pack a day smoking habit. So it made it a bit like Charades. I had to try to figure out what skills were being worked based on the drill.
Every now and then, the drills would stop and the team would skate laps around the rink. Some players seemed to take this more seriously than others. I admit that I enjoyed watching this drill quite a bit, even though it smacks of having to “Dance For Grandma”. This quaint term is something us performers often hate.
Its provenance comes from the angst of having to perform your dance routine, piano, violin, juggling act – whatever you are doing when you are young – for your Grandmother or some other relative (or worse), especially when you are tired (or mortified). Now performers use it as grown-ups to refer to having to perform for backers or producers (or producers’ relatives). It’s that exasperated, put-upon sense of ‘Why must we prove that we have talent?’ in which performers love to wallow. (Have I mentioned I’m a performer? Resume available upon request. Please – no children’s parties).
After an hour, the world’s oldest Zamboni came out to resurface the ice. Seriously, that thing was ancient. I’m fairly certain I was inhaling Freon. Once the team came back I began to make more critical assessments. #9, Derick Martin, had those Max Talbot ‘come hither’ bedroom eyes. #22, David Lun, had the best hockey hair. And # 23, Matthew Panzo, was apparently twelve years old. Both goalies were left-handed catchers. Brooks Ostergard was the taller of the two, but I thought that Drew Palmisano, though shorter, was quicker moving and had a better glove hand. I was proved wrong when the team let him go after their first two preseason games – both losses.
They also lost their first two regular season games. To be fair they did lose one in OT, so they did get a point. And then they come roaring back to win the next game 8-2 setting the stage for what would hopefully be an exciting rematch with their rivals the Florida Everblades. (Yes, I know – Solar Bears, Everblades….. I really should make fun of those names, but that really takes care of itself). As it turned out the Solar Blades home opener at the Amway Arena was SOLD OUT* (*Upper tier not open, so while a ‘sell-out’ the arena is not actually full).
The new Amway Center is a replacement for the old Amway Arena (formerly the Orlando Arena, the T.D. Waterhouse Centre -yes, Centre or just plain ‘O-rena’). The new Arena is quite spacious and had an exhibit of Orlando Magic memorabilia highlighting excellent athletes who just never worked out for whatever reason (Oh look, Scott Skiles’ jersey!) but since this isn’t a basketball blog and I haven’t cared about that sport since they started wearing those long, baggy shorts, we will move on. Coincidentally, the only other time we at the Amway Center was for hockey. It was a pre-season game between the Tampa Bay Lightning and the St. Louis Blues where an underage drunken fan threw up in the vicinity of Lighting owner Jeff Vinik (stay klassy, Orlando). This was a far more family friendly crowd. Not to say there was no cursing or drinking. And no not from me – there were hipsters there.
We had a fun group of seven. Me, LSP, Other Gay Fan (OGF), his co-worker Cindy with daugher Sue, Ashley and Zac. So four gay men and three women. And while Zac was the only one who had not seen a game, he was very enthusiastic. He tweeted several photos during the game. (My favorite: he tweeted a pic of the jumbotron replaying a fight and wrote “Now girls, you’re both pretty”).
The pregame atmosphere was very festive with games and face painting for kids. As a special souvenir, all fans were given commemorative towels which OGF immediately spoiled by calling a bedside rag. (It could also be a workout towel, but please call it a souvenir).
Our tickets were in the very last row, but still excellent view as you can see from this photo taken from our seats. There was a pregame ceremony introducing the players that involved fire and some fairly tame pyrotechnics. It was at this point that I realized that many of the remaining players had changed numbers. (Note to Solar Bears management: Maybe some programs or at least a roster sheet? Did you spend all the money on bedside rags, er, Souvenir Towels)?
Then beloved Solar Bears mascot “Shades The Bear” skated out to that now classic rap by MC Hammer, “U Can’t Touch This”. It seems fairly clear that it’s difficult to skate in that costume. Then during the ceremonial puck drop, to the surprise of no one, Orlando Mayor Buddy Dyer was roundly booed. Then Crash, a local rock radio DJ adorned the National Anthem with several melismas using his fine whiskey cured voice. A half and hour later, the hockey began.
It began with an icing. No touch icing. I could practically hear Don Cherry scream “WHADDID I TELL YA?!?! NO TOUCH ICING!!! NO ONE LISTENS TO ME!!! I TOLD YA!!!! BUNCHA DUM-DUMS.” The hockey fan in front of us says he misses the race and chase for the puck, but LSP points out that he doesn’t miss the fractured tibias which can result from that. When the first goal was scored by Mathew Sisca, I got very excited until I heard that Chelsea Dagger song and realized that damn thing would play everytime they scored. Then after a great fight by the two number 24s they played Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man.” So pretty much the classic hockey arena songs were covered. Except “Car Wash.”
One of the big differences I noted between games in the NHL and the ECHL would be the passing. It’s amazing how you take the tape to tape pass for granted in the NHL. Here they can be summed up by another hockey arena anthem “Whoa, whoa/ We’re halfway there/ Livin’ on a prayer.” Also faceoffs are an extremely haphazard affair. Perhaps positions and skate placement are determined by the spinner for the game Twister. And it was apparently the announcer’s first time at a hockey game. Not only did he have some difficulty with the French-Canadian names, he also announced a three-minute penalty at one point.
The first intermission featured “Mites On Ice.” Yes, young children play a four-minute game. It’s just as adorable as you would think even with the Chipmunk-like music playing in the background. I realized that watching little kids skate is the straight guy equivalent to watching cute cat videos. Then a fan won an autographed Solar Bears jersey from Rob Thomas of Matchbox Twenty. Why that was exciting, I’m not sure. I should point out that there were jerseys of all kinds in attendance. Old Solar Bears jerseys, new Solar Bears jerseys and even a few Orlando Seals jerseys. Plenty of Red Wings sweaters as well as Boston, Chicago, Philly (blech) but fortunately no Montreal jerseys were seen. Bonus points to the Hartford Whalers jersey with Pat Verbeek (Little Ball Of Hate) on it.
The third period started with a crappy rebound goal by the Everblades which led to a donnybrook – well okay – a tamer donnybrook than say, a biker bar or the “Running of the Brides at Filene’s Basement (R.I.P. Filene’s). Then the Blades got a 5 on 3 power play after a phantom tripping call. (The scab refs from the NFL were apparently officiating). And despite some excellent pad saves from Bears goalie John Curry, the Blades scored to tie it up. Then in a severe miscalculation, the “Solar Bear Dancers” performed a number to some rap version of the Woodchuck chucking wood tongue twister. Now these are not the ice girl cheerleader types, but girls in oversized grey t-shirts (in dire need of root touch ups). It needed another rehearsal. But as LSP pointed out, that could have been the rehearsal. (Note to Solar Bears Management: Hire some gay stylists – STAT!)
We had the 4 on 4 overtime for five minutes and then just like in the NHL, we went to a shootout. A TWELVE ROUND shootout. Yes, the crowd got there money’s worth. Fortunately the Everblades goalie had a weak glove side (the Bears got that scouting report, they shot high glove side on him for most of the night) and finally Sean Lorenz managed to get the winning goal and the whole place erupted.
Certainly we had a great time – even Zac who was never really sure what was going on all night. His synopsis: “It was really exciting and then it got kind of boring and then it got really exciting at the end.” Scoff all you want friends, but that’s a pretty fair description of several games I’ve seen. And that includes those on the NHL level.
Bottom line (hehe…. bottom….) we will be going back. It’s far cheaper than NHL tickets and games are only ten minutes away instead of the hour and a half it takes to get to Tampa. Plus, we got a complimentary rag.
Pardon me if any bitterness is evident this time around (and there is plenty of bitterness – Plen. Tee.) but I’m very disillusioned by this pesky lockout. It’s almost as if I’ve just learned that there’s no Santa Claus. (Note to children under ten reading this gay hockey blog – Santa DOES exist. As does the Easter Bunny. The Tooth Fairy however is merely hetero propaganda). But let’s dip our madeleines in some tea while we ponder: Where are the skaters of yesteryear?
Astute readers of my last (well, first really) column could be forgiven for thinking “This purports to be about the Tampa Bay Lightning yet he won’t shut his yap about the Wings.” Since this little slice of heaven in the hockey blog universe is a site of inclusiveness, I feel I can open up to you, gentle reader. I’m ‘Bi’. That’s right, I root for two teams.
Now, before you get all preachy and judgmental, you should know they are in separate conferences. It’s not like they’re in the same division for heaven’s sake, that would be immoral. (I really, really dread the upcoming realignment).
They don’t meet up often, so I’ve think I’ve managed to keep them from finding out, but they are probably stalking my Twitter feed and already know. But those ‘mono-rooters’ are always playing spoil sport, claiming you can’t have it both ways and you have to be closer to one side or other on the scale (Curse you, Kinsey!). So here’s where it gets sticky, said the actress to the Bishop. (‘said the actress to the Bishop’ is the 19th century equivalent of ‘That’s what she said’).
My formative years in Red Wings hockey coincided with the period known as “The Darkness With Harkness” (AKA The ‘Dead’ Wings). If my parents speak of those days, my mother will merely say, “They were just God awful” while my father would most likely spout tirades I couldn’t print here. When we went to games in the late 70’s and early 80’s it was most likely because Gretzky was in town and we figured we could at least watch him notch a few more milestone points in his race to the top.
And quite frankly by my teen years, I was no longer a sports fan. First, even though I’m coordinated enough to be a dancer, I’m a horrible athlete. (I was taunted with wedgies in so many locker rooms).
Secondly, I began to resent the insane attention given to sporting events over the artistic ones. I still have some of this bitter aftertaste during college football season when I must scroll through endless “Let’s Go Team!” posts on Facebook. (Note to friends – and you know who you are – I remember in college how you said you hated the place and couldn’t wait to leave. Now you send cutesy memes featuring team mascots. You sicken me).
Even my parents chide me to this day for not having ‘loyalty’ to institutions they themselves NEVER EVEN ATTENDED!!! (I do at least care about the Michigan State Hockey program) Oddly enough it took my move to Florida (Motto – The Wrinkle State) for me to rediscover hockey and for the Red Wings to finally start making the playoffs.
Remember when ESPN broadcast College Hockey games? No? Well, you can be forgiven as it was during the last millennium. But it was during one such telecast of Michigan State and Notre Dame that I recalled why I loved watching the game. Then I got to see some Wings games, and I was shocked by how much better they finally were (although admittedly that’s not saying much) and how that young Yzerman kid seemed to be doing fairly well. So I became a fan and followed the ups and downs, the Russian Five, and Scotty Bowman’s headgames. And then eventually four Stanley Cups which isn’t bad for the twenty years I’d followed them.
Once I met my long-suffering partner (LSP) we would visit Tampa occasionally to watch games (okay, to watch the Wings) and eventually other gay fan (OGF) who is a Pittsburgh fan (don’t judge him – he was born there) joined us. At first we were going to just to watch our teams, but a smooth talking salesperson convinced us it made sense to get a “Ten Pack” of games.
Our first season with this plan coincided with the reign of The Clown Show where there existed this fantasy world wherein Barry Melrose was qualified to be an NHL coach. Since Melrose’s coaching methods apparently consisted of hoary platitudes about ‘grit’, ‘hustle’ and ‘playing with heart’ borrowed from “Hoosiers” (or worse, some TNT rip-off of ‘Hoosiers”) instead of a credible offense and defense consisting of X’s and O’s, wiser heads prevailed and dumped him (After only 16 games! And he’s still considered a hockey expert) in favor of Assistant Coach Rick Tocchet.
Melrose was going to send Steven Stamkos down to the minors claiming he wasn’t ready for the NHL, but Tocchet shrewdly paired Stammer with Lightning stalwart Marty St. Louis and they showed amazing chemistry on the ice. Hopefully Rick will be remembered for that instead of that gambling thing.
Now while I was rooting for the Lightning, I still considered myself a Red Wing. But I wasn’t about to be that lone guy you see wearing a Wings jersey at a game where they aren’t playing (and there’s always one) so I decided that I could at least wear a Lightning hat to show my support. Surprisingly, it did not burn my head when I put it on. But you notice, there’s that slippery slope they warn you about.
Once I had the hat, then I purchased a t-shirt. And then finally the jersey. Yes, even though it felt like cheating on my team, I wore my Marty St. Louis #26 jersey proudly. Because by that time, the team had a huge turnaround. Not only was there a new owner, but there was a GM that I already knew and loved: Steve Yzerman. And he hired a new coach, Guy Boucher who with his death stare, menacing scar, and a degree in Sports Psychology could give Scotty Bowman a run for his money in the headgames department. And that very first season, despite everyone’s dire predictions, they were one goal away from advancing to the Stanley Cup Finals. But this was a hungry team. It was incredibly gratifying to see them actually fight for pucks along the boards and then come away with them. Yes, the much maligned 1-3-1 defense allows for a lot more turnovers and odd man rushes than one would like, but still it’s thrilling hockey to watch. And I can easily say that Game 6 of the Lightning/Bruins Conference Final was the most electric atmosphere I have experienced in an arena (well, concerts excluded – nothing beats a Prince concert).
And this leads me to my point, I never experienced a live Red Wings playoff game. No such animal existed in my time in Michigan. But I was there in the ‘Whatever We’re Calling It Now’ Forum breathing in the crazed crowd screaming and carrying on for all eight amazing games the Lightning had in their playoff run. And we got to meet players (they signed my old school logo lightning cap– even Coach Boucher!) at some Fan Fests where I tried (oh, how I tried) to string three words together while staring into Ryan Malone’s dreamy eyes.
On nights when both Detroit and Tampa Bay had games, it became difficult to decide which team we wanted to watch first. You see, here at the OperaHockeyGuy Manse, hockey games are not always watched live. Usually they are painstakingly DVR’d in order to fast forward through commercials, in between period commentary, and anything Pierre McGuire might say. (Fun Fact: LSP has prevented me – on numerous occasions – from taunting Pierre while he waits to interview players during warm-ups…. oh and yes, I refuse to even bother to provide a link for that egotistical windbag).
At one point, I realized I was calling the Lightning ‘my team.’ Normally I hate that, because, duh, I don’t ACTUALLY own the team. But the sentiment is there. When we went to games, we hit warm-ups as well as OGF likes to take photos. His specialty is getting Ryan Malone while he stretches at the bench.
But we also appreciate the gritty players who have shown new life with the Bolts after kind of bouncing around the league like Teddy Purcell and Nate Thompson. (Oh Nate with the flowing hockey hair in what I assume is a tribute to Guy LaFleur). And even though last year was less than stellar for the team, Stammer still got 60 goals and Teddy had a career season.
But still, the Wings and I have been through so much together. So many years. Yet, the Bolts have become such a part of my life with my LSP and our road trips with OGF. Honestly, right now I feel as though both have them have jilted me. I do have another hockey prospect right here in town. They are actually going to play in October. I’ll tell you about them next time.
And as it turned out, PuckBuddys needed a correspondent for an expansion team that DID actually work, the Tampa Bay Lightning, and even though I live in Orlando (Motto: The City Beautiful – Trademark Pending) which is a GOOD hour and a half away from Tampa (Motto: Our Traffic Is Worse Than St. Petersburg or Clearwater), I have managed to see quite a few games live and the rest through telecasts since 1998 and I heeded their call.
But what else about me (besides the fact that I love parenthetical statements)? I suppose I should start by giving some hockey cred. I was born and raised in Detroit, Michigan – well yes, okay, the suburbs – and yes, that makes me a diehard Wings fan. Go ahead, I expect your hate. I understand that it’s merely misplaced jealousy of an Original Six team with the record for the most postseason appearances in ANY sport and a number of Stanley Cups one of which was in this decade. (cough, Montreal and Toronto, cough). Everyone fears the Winged Wheel.
But I come by this loyalty honestly. My dad was friends with Marty Pavelich and stayed with Marty’s parents in Sault Ste Marie when the Wings held training camp. In the afternoons he would golf with Marty, Ted Lindsay and Gordie Howe. Wow, I shiver just typing that. Oh, and he received a punch in the face from Jean Beliveau but he doesn’t really like me to mention that.
Anyway, when the Wings won the cup in ‘52, my dad was able to find out the hotel and room number where they where holding the party with the Stanley Cup and worked his way in. After drinking champagne from the sweetest trophy in the sporting world, he was kicked out by the equipment manager, but WHO CARES?!?!?! He got to drink from the Cup!!! And this was long before the days when the Cup made its Summer Tour of Love to small town rinks across the globe so it was doubly special then. Hell, it’s still special. My dad tells that story to everyone, but so do I (obviously).
Dad even found a woman originally from Texas and converted her to hockey (much as expansion would do to Texas later, but far less romantically). And as a wee lad I saw games at the old Olympia, but what I remember the most about the Olympia was seeing the Ice Follies (girls in feathered headdresses)!
Which brings us to the gay part. There’s a wonderful piece of family lore that sums this up nicely: When I was just three and a half, my father got front row tickets for the Shriner’s Circus and we were right underneath the act I always refer to as The Hamster Wheel. It’s two wheels, one smaller than the other and connected by what reminds me of large Erector set construction. Two performers, one male, one female, could be inside or outside the wheel running while the whole contraption spun around. My mother was incredibly frightened and worried what I thought with it all taking place right above our heads. Apparently, I just turned to her and said “That lady has a run in her stockings.”
While this should have been a big clue to my parents, they just thought I was a burgeoning leg man. On one fateful afternoon, my mother called me inside from my usual running around the yard to see a movie she thought I might enjoy called “Singin’ In The Rain”. It was that day I realized what I wanted to do: Sing and dance in movie musicals which I soon discovered Hollywood was no longer making. Then I decided to be a professional actor and proceeded to get a BFA in Musical Theatre (most practical degree there is Kids!) and then an MFA in Theatre Performance. Notice that ‘Theatre’ has that ‘re’ ending which despite what spellcheck may believe is a perfectly acceptable spelling and actually fancier than regular ‘theater’, thank you very much.
But as you may be aware, “Life upon the wicked stage aint ever what a girl supposes” (“Showboat” for those heteros and Gaga-centric homos not in the know) so my career has been filled with many different types of gigs (I once marched around in a drum major outfit with sparkly cape on the Fourth of July and got paid for it!) but I am currently the Director In Residence for the Florida Opera Theatre, so I think have this gay thing in hand (No pun intended).
But here’s the lovely point where the gay and the hockey start to intersect. I went to a party one night where I met my partner of eleven and a half years, whom I shall henceforth call “Long Suffering Partner” or LSP. I was wearing my Fedorov Red Wings jersey and as it turned out, LSP was familiar with Fedorov and the Red Wings having had a previous boyfriend who was a fan. As he was cute and interested in hockey I obviously didn’t want him to get away. We started watching games together and eventually moved in together and never looked back.
I knew it was true love when we were discussing finances and I said we could save money by not purchasing the Center Ice package and he turned to me and said quite firmly, “The Center Ice package is a necessity, not a luxury.” Eventually we met our friend, who shall receive the codename “Other Gay Fan” or OGF and together the three of us brave the craziness of the I-4 corridor to watch Lightning games.
So how did a devoted Red Wing become a part of the Bolts Nation? Well, that’s an excellent story for our next meeting. No, I’m not a tease…. I’m just prolonging the excitement.