Hockey Wanderer

Is that all there is?

2010-09-30T21:34:00.000-07:00

Sept. 25 2010: Red Deer, Alberta

Red Deer Rebels 8, Edmonton Oil Kings 1

A major junior game's been on my hockey bucket list for some time. I can check that box off now, but this game wasn’t bucket-worthy; it didn’t come with the drama and intensity of the Junior A tilt the night before in Brooks.

Why major junior? In the ways that matter to me, it's the highest level of competition in North America short of the NHL. The very best - your Crosbys, your Tyler Myers, never play a minute in the minor leagues. They just move straight from juniors to the NHL. And the teams aren’t part of a farm system – they are out-and-out competing for the Memorial Cup, without having to compromise their competitiveness to meet the needs of a parent club.

This was the home opener for the Rebels, and they laid on quite the ceremony - complete with balls of fire - to introduce the team.

The Red Deer fans were out in force, and I assume they love the team since they buy a lot of its licensed merchandise.

That captures part of the reason it wasn't as much fun for me as Brooks; it lacked that down home volunteer-run aspect. Of course, major junior is effectively professional, so it's their job to put on a professional-quality event. They do a good job of that in Red Deer.

THE GAME: This game was much more NHL-like than the Junior A game, though not in a good way. As in the NHL, there's a lot of emphasis on defensive positioning, taking away passing and skating lanes - which is how to win games, but not necessarily fun to watch. Neither is a rout. The Oil Kings looked like they barely practiced with each other, rendering them unable to move the puck out of their own zone in the early action. This, combined with a starting goalie who played like a human pinball machine spitting the puck back to Rebels' forecheckers, made for a game that was out of hand early. Edmonton had to make do without captain and first-round Buffalo draft pick Mark Pyskyk, who was not back from the NHL camp. Of course, he hasn’t practiced with the team either.

About Red Deer: I can’t tell you anything. Plans for a leisurely drive through the Alberta badlands, with time to check out the town, went up in smoke when my rented Sentra abruptly gave up the ghost Saturday morning.

It took seven hours for Hertz to truck the replacement in from Calgary so all I could do was drive to the game.

Whaddaya Got? What are the Rebels supposed to be rebelling against? After all, the whole foundation of Canada is based on the act of not rebelling. Then there's the logo: a cow skull with hockey sticks through it. Who are they rebelling against, their bovine overlords? In Alberta that battle’s been decided.

It was probably all put together by marketing consultants. And they achieved their goal, judging by the aforementioned licensed merchandise sales.

Since I’m a sucker for tradition, I appreciated the Oil Kings for picking a name with historic resonance, for their tasteful uniform design, and even the crown logo borrowed from the Dionne-era L.A. Kings.

My wife will be sad to read this: There was a fight. Props to Edmonton's young Jesse Pearson, who took on older, bigger Colin Archer late in the first and, I say, won the decision. Still failed to light a fire in his team.

The arena: The Enmax Centrium's squat concrete form presumably reflects the practical needs of a place with cold, windy winters. The olive green seats prove Red Deer no slave to fashion. I figured the place was built in the 70s, but it turns out to have opened just before the Rebels’ first season in 1992. Not much else to say except the sightlines are good.

Game reports: Here and here.

Dynamic Heavy Haul

2010-09-24T21:14:00.000-07:00

Sept. 24, 2010: Brooks, Alberta
Calgary Canucks 4, Brooks Bandits 3 (OT)

This blog's back to the rinks for a two-game tour of Alberta junior hockey. The goal: experience hockey in one of its spiritual homes.
The itinerary was dictated by time-off constraints and frequent-flier availability. That placed me in Brooks, about two hours east of Calgary on the prairie, for an Alberta Junior Hockey League game, in the second tier of junior, one step below major junior.
When it comes to arenas, I prefer old barns with character. Not what I found here; Centennial Regional Arena is barely 10 months old, rising out of the prairie south of the town, paint still gleaming.
It stands to reason; the town is small but seemingly prosperous thanks to quite visible petroleum drilling. So they're going to build the nicest darn ice arena they can. The Bandits are celebrating their tenth anniversary, and they clearly have strong volunteer support.
The game was clearly a social scene, though the place was less than half full. I overheard one fellow say, 'It's such a beautiful arena; we just haven't grown into it yet.'
The game had lots of end-to-end action, due perhaps less to the teams' offensive abilities than their inabilities to nail down their defensive systems early in the season. It ended with a 3-on-3 overtime - the latest carnival sideshow hockey's powers that be have developed to avoid ending games in ties.
Hokey minor-league touch: Select Bandits wore sponsor's names on the lower back of their sweaters. Captain Brett Howe, for example, wore 'Dynamic Heavy Haul' on his butt. He lived up to the billing, scoring all three Bandits goals. He was a force on the ice, and his force of will gained Brooks a game-tying goal late in the third. He demanded the puck from a teammate, bang, bang, BANG stick on the ice, he got it, he buried it in the net.
Really minor-league touch: Less than half the Calgary players had their names on their sweaters. Maybe Matt Heseltine will get his name on after his hat trick tonight.
My wife will be happy to read this: There were no fights.
Player notes: Calgary goalie Dusty Nickel didn't start, despite his awesome name. I'm also pulling for Bandit Lane Menage to rise through the hockey ranks, high enough to play in a game broadcast in French. Then he needs to score a hat trick, so the announcer can say 'Menage a trois.'

Game report here and boxscore here.

Alberta bound

2010-09-23T11:13:00.000-07:00

After a long hiatus, hockeywanderer is about to live up to its name, assuming SkyWest can roust a crew for my flight to Calgary. Look for updates, depending on wifi access on the Canadian prairie and my patience for writing on a phone keyboard. This is hockeywanderer, signing off from SFO.

A Book Report

2010-08-10T20:13:00.000-07:00

"Africa United"
by Steve Bloomfield
This book called to me in June from the new releases table of the local bookstore. A book on African soccer! Just before the first African World Cup!
In other words, the book had the exact effect on me that the publisher desired. Ka-ching!
That topicality turned out to be one of the weaknesses of this still quite interesting book. It came off as having been assembled hurriedly to meet that marketing-driven deadline. Then again, how else does a book on African soccer land in an American bookstore? "Africa United" is a snapshot of soccer in 10 African nations, evidently put together as author Bloomfield, a Nairobi-based correspondent for British publications, conducted his reportage.

Stories range from the fairly well-known story of the Ivory Coast team's role in brokering a case-fire in the nation's civil war, to a timely (and prescient) chapter on the institutional problems that weakened the South African national football team. Bloomfield also talks about the less-well-known world of domestic football in nations like Congo and Nigeria, and football's continuing cultural resonance in the midst of the social destruction wrought by wars in Somalia and Sierra Leone.

The word "football" reminds me of my pet peeve about the book, at least the U.S. edition. Apparently the American publisher just ran an auto-replace of the word "football" with "soccer" to the point of maddening distraction - even in proper names. For example: "Leo Mugabe, the president's nephew, was chairman of the Zimbabwe Soccer Association (ZIFA)." Memo to the editors: the audience for a book like this already knows the game is known as football in most of the world.

Final summary: a good read if you find the topic interesting.

Published by Harper Perennial.

Author's website: http://www.africa-united.co.uk/

Pominville, Arizona

2010-01-19T19:50:00.000-08:00

Jan. 18, 2010: Glendale, Ariz.
Buffalo Sabres 7, Phoenix Coyotes 2

I usually try to see my beloved Sabres in San Jose on their rare West Coast swings. This year I tried something different: instead of driving the Nasty Nimitz to San Jose, I flew to Phoenix. It allowed me to burn a soon-to-expire Southwest frequent flier ticket; helped me deal with a case of cabin fever; and advanced the HockeyWanderer mission of experiencing sports in exotic environments (hockey where cactus are native).
It was also a great value proposition. Thanks to the dubious economics of the NHL in Phoenix, I got a seat three rows from the ice for less than $35, even counting the Ticketbastard fees.
As a Sabres fan, I was not alone. In the parking lot, on the concourses, in the stands, the blue jerseys were everywhere. Well not everywhere; there were more than 6,400 empty seats, (see photo) so jobing.com would have been pretty empty without the Buffalo diaspora.
Surprisingly, or maybe not, a lot of those Buffalo fans were rocking Tyler Myers jerseys. He thanked them with an early goal. Sabres fans had a lot to cheer as the game quickly got out of hand, largely because of Ilya Bryzgalov's shaky netminding.
The population of Pominville increased by two on the night, but fans in the arena thought it was three because the PA announcer never publicly corrected the scoring on a goal that was corrected to linemate Hecht. So a load of hats got thrown on the ice -- how often does that happen to a visiting player?
Anyway, jobing.com was a nice enough place to watch a game, at least being able to sit below the phalanx of luxury boxes that curse modern sports arenas. It also enjoys their blessings, such as free flowing concourses, and short lines for concessions and bathrooms. (The low attendance must help.) Unfortunately, it is not actually in Phoenix; it's a fairly long drive out to Glendale, which may well be one of the Coyotes' problems.

Fan-friendly touch: free parking!

Leading economic indicator?: The 'Yotes can't even sell ads on one of their Zambonis.

Token observation about the actual hockey game: Myers is good. Scarrry good.

Game reports here and here.

I don't know how they slipped away from me

2009-10-02T21:59:00.000-07:00

John Prine
Oct. 2, 2009, San Francisco
(A special Music Wanderer post)

There I was, trying to hold back tears among 30,000 perfect strangers.
That wasn't part of the plan. I just thought I'd take advantage of the chance to enjoy one of my favorite performers, John Prine, conveniently playing for free on a Friday afternoon after work.
A chance to taste a small slice of Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, which had been an annual ritual before the arrival of my son complicated life's logistics and the increasing popularity of the festival made attendance on the weekends less like fun and more like work.
Anyway, when Prine launched into 'Souvenirs' and his lines about hating graveyards, broken toys and faded colors, my mind flashed instantly to my Mom's funeral this spring, and to cleaning out her things, all her souvenirs, from her apartment.
The man is a master of melancholy.
Anyway, I don't think the strangers around me were any the wiser. It was the third time I'd seen Prine at Hardly Strictly, and the first time I could clearly view and hear him, even though I was at the edge of the huge throng. As I slipped away from the park toward the Muni bus stop, I overheard some one saying, "I forgot how good John Prine was; that was fantastic!"
Right on.

Almost a Metaphoric Moment

2007-11-28T21:15:00.000-08:00

Tonight, while walking down Market Street, and scrolling through songs on my iPod, I narrowly avoided colliding with a man checking e-mails on his Blackberry.

JUNEDAY

2007-06-06T23:14:00.000-07:00

Tonight I watched Brad May lift the Stanley Cup. Or as he will always be to me, “BRAAAAAD MAAAAY!”
Mr. May scored a seminal goal in Sabres history.
Of course, for many franchises, a seminal goal would be something like the one scored by Bobby Nystrom in 1980; a goal that won a Stanley Cup. But I am a Sabres fan. I must look harder for milestones.
Luckily we have Rick Jeanerette to help point them out. We go back a long way, though we lost touch for a while.
In 1993, I lived in a cheap apartment in one of Denver’s dreary exurbs, shared with a guy from Boston, as it happens.
The goal I’m talking about was May’s overtime winner in Game 4, capping a sweep for the Sabres. Having enjoyed the victory in real time, I switched over to ESPN, hoping for another chance to wallow in this unusual feeling.
First, Sportscenter showed the goal as a highlight. Then, as a special treat, they played the highlight again, this time with the Buffalo radio announcer’s call.
Thanks to the miracle of sound recording, we can play it again and again: MAYDAY! MAYDAY! MAYDAY! MAYDAY! And it was great, but I had a much more primordial reaction.
At that point, it had been many years since I lived in Western New York, so I hadn’t listened to Sabres broadcasts for a long time.
But the voice was unforgettable. I was instantly transported back in time. Back to third and fourth grade, in Ransomville, New York, when I would take my Radio Shack Sing-a-Long radio up to my bedroom to listen to Sabres games. Turning to an alternate reality away from what, even at that age, was a family environment not entirely conducive to retaining my mental health. Back to the time I became a hockey fan; a Sabres fan. Back to a time and the circumstances that may explain why hockey and the Sabres remain meaningful to me more than 30 years later.
Anyway, thanks to the miracle of the modern Interweb, I can once again listen to RJ call Sabres games on the radio, at least until they are knocked out of the playoffs.
And as I was watching Brad May hoist the Cup, the thought crossed my mind: The Mayday goal was in 1993. Holy crap, that’s 14 freakin’ seasons ago!
There are people who say some nasty things about Brad May. Talentless goon, that sort of thing. The Kim Johnsson incident gave them a good argument. But I don’t think a player sticks around the NHL that long – 15 seasons, not counting the lockout - if he isn’t bringing something to the table.
So here’s to you, Brad. Your name will look good on that Cup.

Walks In The Old Ballpark

2007-05-29T20:38:00.000-07:00

May 27, 2007: San Jose, Calif.
Stockton Ports 9, San Jose Giants 6
It turns out that I am better at wandering than sticking to hockey. In this case, at loose ends on Memorial Day weekend, I wandered down the 880 to San Jose. I will spare readers the paean to minor league baseball, as you have undoubtedly seen it before, but the Single-A experience in San Jose is distinctive. Number one: Municipal Stadium is old. Minor-league owners have been just as effective (maybe more effective) as major league owners at extorting taxpayers for new stadiums, complete with luxury boxes and the whole yadda yadda yadda.
San Jose's civic leaders are probably more susceptible than most to throwing money at desperate attempts to attract status symbols, but the California League isn't what they have in mind. I think the Athletics' planned move to Fremont also casts doubt about the future of the minor league game in San Jose. So, at least for now, 65-year-old Municipal Stadium abides.
I wouldn't say it's particularly architecturally distinctive, but it does have something of a vague Mission style. The best thing about it is that it is utterly unDisneyfied, in contrast to most new facilities. I was really taken with the interior concourse. The walls are lined with painted pennants of minor league teams present and (mostly) past. There are murals and displays outside the stadium tying together the history of pro baseball and the history of pro ball in San Jose. It's low-key but classy.
The other key ingredient to the game experience there is the barbecue area by the third base line. It's a large-scale operation, with a bunch of picnic tables nearby and its a treat to go early get some barbecue and a beer (good selection at reasonable prices by pro sports standards).
Unfortunately, there is no shade anywhere at the stadium, at least anywhere you can see the game. It was only in the mid-70s, but the San Jose sun was relentless. And what kind of idiot goes to a day ballgame and forgets his ballcap? That would be me. So, I confess, I left early. In my defense, I watched two and a half hours of baseball, though that only worked out to six innings, because the pitchers had trouble finding the strike zone, and infielders had trouble finding the ball. As for #18 of the Ports: they need a baseball version of the shot clock for pitchers like him.
I'll make one baseball observation: even a casual fan like me can see how thoroughly the Athletics (the Ports' parent club) teach and apply the Moneyball patient batting philosophy.
Local color: Adobe sponsors the pitch speed sign.
Hokey Minor League touch: Forget dot racing: the San Jose Giants do horse racing by having horse-head cutouts, carried by some staffer below, "race" above the outfield wall between innings. Very old school!
Game reports here and here.

Hockey Wanderer is not worthy

2007-05-24T20:59:00.001-07:00

These hockey bloggers were at the recent hockey World Championship tournament in Moscow -- on someone else's
tab. Now that's hockey wandering. They were worth every penny; offering
lots of interesting insights on hockey and Russia.I believe you can
find it all in one place if you root around at the Washington Capitals
website.

You Stay Classy, Stockton

2007-05-22T21:40:00.000-07:00

April 14, 2007: Stockton, Calif.
Idaho Steelheads 2, Stockton Thunder 1, 2 OT
Has it really been five weeks since I watched this
game? And four since I promised to blog about it?
Luckily, it was a memorable evening. After cancelling plans
for a longer getaway, I found a fun alternative,
Hockeywanderer style -- a lovely afternoon spent
meandering through the Delta, followed by some playoff
hockey. After an al fresco dinner at Valley Brew -
friendly staff, excellent beer, edible food -- we went
down to the Stockton Arena.
Now, Hockeywanderer is fond of places with quirks, with character, with local color. That's not what you get at the Stockton Arena. You get a late-model, state-of-the-art sports arena experience, as one would expect from a franchise and venue controlled by the IFG Group.
That has good aspects (cleanliness, wide concourses, adequate restrooms) and less-good aspects (relentless, loud CrapRock played during every break in play; robotically frequent fan exhortations on the p.a. and scoreboard.)
The Thunder are in their second season, and rewarded their numerous fans with their first playoff berth. This was their first home playoff game. The Thunder drew a pretty good-sized crowd, which is not always a given in the minor leagues.
The Game:
Five years from now, the winner of the 2007 Kelly Cup will be largely forgotten. But the players in this contest fought with every bit as much heart as a player fighting for the Stanley Cup. It was a taught, hard-fought contest, and the intensity was palpable. I thought the Thunder showed a little more flair, but aside from one scoring play, they were unable to finish. Their goaltender was spectacular.
The Steelheads for their part looked thoroughly well coached. This struck me as an excellent demonstration of how to be successful in the AA minor leagues, where teams are less likely to have players with game-breaking individual talent (since such talent would likely get promoted).Idaho played a flawless positional game -- they were not often caught out of place and were consistently in position to keep the Stockton attack from building. As I write this, Idaho is playing in the Kelly Cup finals and I am not one bit surprised.
The Atmosphere:
As I noted, IFG does not let a second go by during the game without some kind of stimulation provided for the fans. I might bring earplugs next time, just for the p.a. system. It looks like a lot of Stocktonites have taken to their hockey team -- caring enough to make sign supporting their team and, evidently, rookie Troy Bodie. Many wore bright yellow wigs, which makes sense -- because, to me, the sound of thunder evokes the sight of bright yellow fake hair.
They proved very vocal in their opinions of the refereeing -- especially after the ref blew the whistle after losing sight of the puck during a scramble that appeared to have led to a Stockton goal. This resulted in a loud, thunderous chants of "You Suck, Ref! You Suck, Ref!" This caused Mrs. Hockeywanderer to look at me in a certain way, as if to say, 'So, these are hockey fans, and you are a hockey fan, and therefore...'
Anyway, the fans were quite emphatic in their criticism of the officiating, even though I am confident that 90% of them had never seen a hockey game before Dec. 10, 2005. This including the 10-year-old girl who enthusiastically soloed on the "You Suck Ref" chant regularly through the third period and first overtime. Classy parenting!
Value proposition: This was actually my second Thunder game and it won't be my last. Sixteen bucks for good blueline tickets to a pro hockey game is a screaming deal, well worth the drive from the Bay Area. The cheap seats start at $9 for adults.
Confession: As a general rule, real fans stay to the end of the game. I declare an exception when one is: A) not a true fan of either team and 2) 80 miles from home. As overtime began, I said we would stay for one overtime (my hockey senses smelled multiple overtime) and that's what we did, so I was on Highway 4 when the winner was tallied.
Doing things right: The main beer advertisers are Fat Tire and Sierra Nevada. That IS classy.
Hokey Minor League touch: A few lucky fans were called to the ice for intermission musical chairs. This was flat out hilarious! They had to wear helmets, and they needed them too; those people were vicious competitors.
Game reports here and here.

My City In Ruins

2007-05-16T21:00:00.000-07:00

May 8, 2007: New Haven, Conn.
A recent trip to Connecticut sent me past the second place I ever saw a professional hockey game -- probably the location where I watched the most games.

Won't ever happen again, obviously.
The New Haven Coliseum was home to the AHL New Haven Nighthawks. When I was in middle school I forced my Dad to drag me to quite a few Nighthawks games. It was also the site of a few formative rock concert experiences -- R.E.M. before they got really big, Tom Petty (heading a great triple bill), um, ahem, Iron Maiden...but I digress. In all objective honesty, it was a 70s architectural travesty, but I still fondly remember the long ride down the outdoor escalators from the parking garage to the Orange St. entrance -- it helped build the pre-game anticipation. After the game there was the the fun of everyone honking their horns as they rolled down the circular parking ramps. So it's sad to see the place looking like the World Trade Center on September 12. Not that I was surprised. I was actually down on the corner of Orange and George returning a car to Hertz back in late 2005 -- they had already started demolishing the place then. This means they have probably taken more time tearing down the Coliseum than they spent building it in the first place. That's New Haven for you. I understand they have big plans to build some kind of cultural mecca in place of the old arena, though they obviously aren't in a big hurry. To me, tearing down a venue like that -- and not replacing it -- just reeks of a city that's thrown in the towel.
For what it's worth, the first place I every saw pro hockey was the Aud in Buffalo. I hear it's still standing, though it's been closed for a decade. And Buffalo built a new arena to replace it.

More rugby wanderer

2007-04-26T17:34:00.000-07:00

April 21, 2007: Berkeley, Calif.
Cal Bears 51, New Mexico Lobos 3.

I got a call last week from a friend with a similar sports curiosity habit -- did I want to see the Cal rugby team open the playoffs?
You bet.
Cal Berkeley dominates U.S. college rugby. It has won 15 of the last 16 national championships, and 22 of the 27 since the first one in 1980. It's an impressive record of organizational achievement, even if a cynic might compare dominating of American rugby to being the top team in German baseball.
Cal hosted the opening rounds at Witter Field. It's located in Strawberry Canyon east of the football stadium, and offers a fantastic view of the Bay. The crowd numbered in the hundreds, but the demographics were definitely high
Cal plays rugby union, which gives five points for a try, instead of the four in rugby league. That's about all I learned about the differences, though I can confirm that I am unable to understand the kicking away strategies in either code. In any case, one didn't need to know much rugby to comprehend Cal's domination of the game, though I suppose the Lobos can claim a moral victory for scoring any points at all. I was kind of sad when one of their players busted a long run near the end of the blowout, only to get caught two yards away from a try.

Game report here.

Cal won their next game by an even more ridiculous margin, sending them to the final four two weeks later Stanford.
Audience quote of the day: "The ref's a girl!" She didn't take any crap, either.

Thunder go under

2007-04-22T19:03:00.000-07:00

The Stockton, Calif. Thunder were eliminated from the ECHL playoffs Wednesday. Hockeywanderer attended Game 3 of the series, and will report on it soon.
Sharkspage has a far more timely review of recent ECHL developments in California.

For sale cheap: large, inflatable dog

2007-04-21T21:24:00.000-07:00

The Long Beach Ice Dogs, host to the hockeywanderer last October, have, um, been put to sleep.

Faceoff circle or Arctic Circle?

2007-03-28T21:04:00.000-07:00

Sept 16, 2005: Fairbanks, Alaska.
Fairbanks Ice Dogs 5, Billings Bulls 3.
I was in Fairbanks to ride the Alaska Railroad south to Anchorage. To my delight, I found there was a hockey game the night before I left! The Ice Dogs play in the North American Hockey League. This is at the Junior A level. The league bills itself as a way to train at hockey while getting an education -- though from a look at the Ice Dogs' roster it didn't look like anyone was still in high school. As much as I can guess, Jr. A, at least the NAHL version, is a chance for players overlooked at high school to keep their careers alive, and make an impression on scouts -- either pro or college, as it preserves NCAA eligibility (unlike Canadian major junior).
It was opening weekend at the Big Dipper Arena. The arena, with about 2,000 seats, is run by the city rec department, and it has an unusual pedigree. The most unusual architectural feature: a mirrored ceiling. It was Saturday night, on the second night of a two-game opening series, and the Dogs drew a sizable crowd of all ages; lots of adults shooting the breeze, catching up with each other, while their kids got to romp around. A very good-spirited atmosphere. During an intermission, I walked over to the booster club table and talked to the head of the organization. He said the Ice Dogs usually draw pretty well; their primary competition for the hockey fan dollar is the University of Alaska team, which plays at the high-caliber NCAA Division 1 level. The Ice Dogs, he said, have one key competitive advantage: they can sell beer at their games. As I recall, they even sold very good beer.
It was a good game and a good time. If I lived in Fairbanks, I'd have season tickets.
Game sheet here.
It occurs to this blog that it may be the only blog alive to attend the home games of two different hockey teams with nickname Ice Dogs. Perhaps I should go for a trifecta.

And now: rugby wanderer

2007-03-26T20:14:00.000-07:00

Feb. 17, 2007: Sydney, Australia
Sydney Roosters 10, Wests Tigers 4

Hockeywanderer is happy to mix travel and sports, which brings us to Sydney, Australia in February, where I experienced high-level rugby. Well, a warm-up for high level rugby. It should be noted I attended the match the night I arrived in Australia, basically in an attempt to keep myself awake. This game was rugby league, which is different from rugby union in ways I do not understand and am too lazy to find out.
The game was held at Aussie Stadium. I thought it was so dubbed because it was some kind of national icon -- in reality, the naming rights were sold to a mortgage broker.
The stadium is a bit of a surreal sight. My final approach, on foot, was down a street of old two- to three-story brick row houses, very characteristic of that part of Sydney -- which appears quite gentrified, full of used book stores and art-house movie theaters. Then, boom, looming like a spaceship over Paddington, is this futuristic white erector set, set up by architects to disguise what is otherwise an unremarkable rectangular reinforced concrete stadium.
At first I thought it would be a Sydney home crowd, because I assumed Wests were from the west, as in maybe Perth. As it turns out, Wests stands for Sydney's western suburbs, and Wests fans seemed to have a slight edge in numbers in the crowd of 16,000.
The game I saw was, hold your breath, the "Foundation Cup" - a very fancy name for what was really both teams' first pre-season exhibition game.
The whole spectacle is just as commercialized as North American pro sports -- complete with cheerleading squads, costumed mascots and overly enthusiastic PA announcers. In some ways, it was even more commercialized: not only are there sponsorship ads on the players jerseys, but on the referees' as well! The good news is that rugby league is played with a running clock, so there are no breaks to be filled up with loud, annoying music as at most American sports events. (Though they played "Eye of the Tiger" during the Tigers' team introduction.)
As for the rugby itself, I got it -- up to a point. Basically the players try to carry the ball into an end zone, for a try (4 points) at which point they get to try to convert for two more points with a kick through the uprights -- an angled kick, much tougher than a football extra point. The scoreboard also had a line for field goals, but no one scored any, so I don't know what they are.
Players run the ball, and they are allowed to lateral it to their teammates. At times, the teams attacked with a series of laterals that developed with breathtaking speed. However, that series of laterals. 60 yards across the field, would net them 10 or 15 yards, which begins to tell me why American football adopted the forward pass.
Players ran the ball, and when they were tackled, everyone suddenly stopped, the tacklee took a set over the ball and gave it a kick-nudge backward to a teammate behind him, after which the whole thing starts again. It was difficult for anyone to get anywhere very far without being swarmed by defense. There does not seem to be any blocking as we know it in American football, probably because it would be regularly fatal. As it is, the game is viscerally physical. Complete with broken bones.
There are also several features I didn't comprehend. For instance, a team would be in the middle of a seemingly successful possession, with ball control, and then suddenly kick the ball down the field. As near as I can tell, they were hoping to force errors on the part of the player fielding the kick. Often play would die suddenly for reasons I couldn't fathom.
Speaking of incomprehension, there's the scrum, which is how play restarted after these pauses. It seemed like kind of a kabuki ritual, in which a bunch of players slammed shoulders, but the ball always quickly flew out into a waiting teammate's hands.
I suppose I should have asked someone around me what was going on, but I am admittedly an introvert, I was completely jet-lagged, and in any case deem it prudent not to talk to groups of drunk people when I am sober. The beer lines were of epic proportions.
Not that there was any menace in the crowd; fans of the two teams were spread all over the stadium, and they were quite boisterous, but I saw no fans direct venom at any of the other team's fans, or anyone but the referees.

There was none of the edge one expects at a Raiders game, let alone a European soccer crowd. Many people brought their kids along; the tickets were $20 AUD for adults and $10 for kids; I suspect a lot of the fans out for the game may be priced out of regular season games, which might be much more expensive, given the rampant commercialization that was in evidence. Anyway, I suspect that few of the fans came from the gentrified rowhouses around the stadium.

Game report here.

You think it's cold outside the arena?

2006-11-03T22:09:00.000-08:00

Feb. 18, 2006: Feldkirch, Austria.
EV Zeltweg 3, EHC Feldkirch 2000 2, OT
A visit to my sister, who lives in western Austria, provided the pretext for this journey into the belly of minor league hockey, European style. EHC Feldkirch 2000 played in the Nationalliga, the country's second division. (The first division isn't exactly at the forefront of world hockey either, in a small nation where the top three sports are skiing, skiing, and skiing followed at a distance by soccer.)
The Vorarlberghalle was maybe a bit smaller than a minor league North American rink but comparable to major junior or Division I college facilities. I'm guessing there were 2,500 to 3,000 fans there. The concession stand had anything you wanted, as long as you like sausage. (I like sausage.)
The most notable feature was the temperature. It was February in Austria, and it was still colder inside the arena than outside. This would have been fine for me, but was maybe a bit unfair for the long suffering Ms. Hockeywanderer, my sister, and her two young kids.
One corner of the arena was given over to a group of especially deranged fans who dressed in fearsome costumes and chanted the kind of chants we Norteamericanos associate with British soccer. The game was close, though I missed the game-winner because my nephew needed to go to the men's room really badly.
Apparently the Feldkirch club has been through some financial woes and changed its name and colors after the 05-06 season, despite its success, which saw it top the regular season table before losing in the playoffs.

Hokey Minor League Touch I (Eurotrash division): During the pregame warmups, the home team wore pink jerseys labeled for the local "Sex Shop."

Hokey Minor League Touch II: The intermission contest featured an on-ice parade of Smart Cars.

Local Color, er, Odor: Cigarette smoke

Game report (in German) posted here.

Circus Freaks and Body Checks

2006-11-03T20:20:00.000-08:00

Oct. 29, 2006: Long Beach, Calif.
Fresno Falcons 6, Long Beach Ice Dogs 3

Thanks to a fortuitously timed trip for work, I was able to watch the Long Beach Ice Dogs host the Fresno Falcons at the Long Beach Arena, the hockey rink that looks like an aquarium.

The quality of play, in terms of puck possession and passing, was a bit better than I expected from the ECHL. The Ice Dogs came out well in the first period, but in the end form prevailed and the unbeaten Falcons beat the winless Dogs.

Hokey Minor League Touch: The home team skated onto the ice through a giant inflatable bulldog.

Local color: It was costume night, in honor of Halloween. In some cases it was hard to tell who was in costume and who just looked that way naturally.

The crowd was sparse. The team honored a season ticket holder who had attended more than 300 consecutive home games by taking him to center ice, giving him a chicken hat, and having him do the "Chicken Dance" with the mascot. If that's how they treat their best fans, I'd be tempted to skip a game once in awhile. But I think he got to keep the hat.
Game reports here and here.