Frozen Dreams, Part Two: Punch-Drunk Love and Playoff Hockey

See part one here for an explanation of the whole "Frozen Dreams" thing if you're unaware of it. If you are-read on for part two...

"Someone call a tow-truck, 'cause this is a f*cking breakdown!"
Motionless in White: "Just When You Thought We Couldn't Get Any More Emo, We Go And Pull A Stunt Like This"


"Someday those scribbled lines will be straight
and conversations will never bare your name"
Rookie of the Year: "The Blue Roses"

I fell in love for the first time to the soundtrack of a thousand people roaring with pure, primal, unrestrained joy as their dreams came true in one magical instant.

Admittedly, it wasn't my somewhat-late initiation into the mysteries of human emotion that caused this reaction-in fact, I very much doubt whether me suddenly realising what this weird thing that caused people to pour their souls into writing songs, poems and everything else in between about since time immemorial was had anything to do with it. It was far more likely to be the fact that Ash Tait had just crowned an incredible season in Coventry by taking a pass from Jozef Lukac, deking once, twice and beating Nottingham's goalie, Ladi Kudrna, in overtime to win the Blaze the playoffs, and incidentally sealing the first Triple Crown of league, Challenge Cup and playoff wins (the Crossover Cup competition being won by Belfast even though there was no official trophy presented means that there is still dispute over whether or not this qualifies as a Grand Slam) in British hockey since Sheffield's tainted 2000/01 triumph.

It just so happened, however, that a great milestone in my "normal" life happened at the same time as a massive one in that of my hockey life...and ever since then, even though both the girl I fell in love with and every last trace of the celebrations of the 5th of April 2005 have vanished into the mists of time, they've been inextricably linked in my mind.

I remember, as a very cynical and somewhat unlucky-in-love 20-year-old, turning up for that bright spring weekend in Nottingham with a strange feeling that something momentous was going to happen. After all, optimism was rampant in the Blaze camp after a team containing such glorious names as Martin, McNamara, Lehman, Calder, Carlson, and NHLer Wade Belak had steam-rolled their way through all competition to the league title-their unearthly Challenge Cup Final win against Cardiff (6-1 up after the first leg, Cardiff go 4-0 up at home after being presented as dead and buried and then, in possibly the most exciting game of hockey I've ever seen, somehow lose 5-4 to a Blaze team seemingly backed by all the forces of the hockey gods, with Bari McKenzie scoring the game winner!) only strengthened the impression.

Saturday passed in agonies of anticipation-the Blaze sneaked through against Sheffield and Nottingham beat Cardiff in order to set up a meeting of the league champions v the home club. I honestly can't remember much about the Saturday game...if asked to recall that weekend, however, I do remember first becoming properly aware of the girl who was to cause me to be hit by a thunderbolt the following day.

Katie was part of my group of friends...fairly short, soft voice and with strikingly beautiful green-blue eyes and strawberry-blonde hair...but up until then we'd not exchanged more than a few words occasionally, as you do with groups of friends, as she was more a friend-of-a-friend within the group. However, she came to my notice properly rather painfully during a game of what might best be called "foot hockey" outside the NIC, when, despite being a few inches shorter and several stone lighter, she caused me to collide painfully with one of the supporting pillars of the NIC down at the Castle Inn side...putting an end to the game and meaning that I was limping around the NIC, and the trip to Rock City afterward, for the whole evening. On the plus side, at least it started a conversation.


That Saturday night was a strange one. I couldn't sleep a wink. At the time I thought it was due to the potential for history to be maid the following day, but looking back, Katie may have had more than a little to do with it...

Sunday passed in a blur, mostly-the third-place game between Sheffield and Cardiff was absolutely dire, notable only for goalie Jason Cugnet playing as an outskater. Tension rose throughout the game until, by the time the teams stepped onto the ice with Blaze chasing a historic treble and Panthers roared on by a sea of yellow-and-black at the horseshoe end, right next to the Blaze crowd, my guts were churning from the tension.

Then, everything came into sharp focus. I remember that. I don't remember much about the first two periods, though-I didn't see either Neal Martin's go-ahead goal or Nick Boynton's equaliser 40 seconds later at the start of the second period, thanks mainly to the queues at NIC catering, which meant I only made it back into the arena just in time to see the Panthers celebrating. I don't remember anything else except that there was no other score.

The third period, with the game still tied. was horrific, as medical science (I think, looking back, that the virus I'd had the previous week came back for one last spiteful hurrah) and the sheer tension of the game combined to produce a chemical reaction that gave me crippling stomach pains. Mark Cadotte somehow missing an open net from three feet out, which would have put the Panthers ahead, was the final straw for me, causing my body to rebel violently and me to barely make it to the toilet before the NIC hot-dog and over-priced pint of Tetley's went out the same way they'd came in about half an hour earlier.

I sat outside for a minute or two to recover, then stood up to go back in and experienced the scariest sensation I've ever had at a hockey game.

My legs wouldn't work. My mind was screaming at me to get back in-it was the third period of a tied playoff final, for God's sake!-but my body just did not want to go back through that door and risk seeing Blaze fall at the final hurdle, and nothing I could think or say would change its mind.

Then, as if my nerve-endings weren't wound tight enough, the doors opened, and Katie came out...

You're probably expecting some sort of fairy-tale here, but there isn't one. She and a few others had seen me leave my seat at great speed, and were simply coming out to check I was OK. We didn't even exchange more than a few words..and back in she went, along with everyone else.

However, the next few minutes saw me go temporarily insane. The fact that she'd came out to look for me somehow set off a crazy internal conversation and bargaining with Fate in my fevered mind, as I sat alone in the cavernous spaces of the NIC foyer and realised that I'd liked her since I met her a month or two earlier-the gist of which was "you have to go back in there-and if Blaze win, then it's a sign that if you ask Katie out, there might be a chance"

And then the hooter went.

Jesus...it's gone to overtime!

I stood up, marshalled all the resources of my fevered body, and made my way back in to watch, death-or-glory-type thoughts in my mind. Suddenly, there was Lukac, arrowing a pass to Tait, and the ice opened up in front of him...

I don't mind admitting that, if you could hear or see all the prayers rising up to the hockey gods at that moment, mine would have drowned them all out with ease-it wasn't so much a whisper as a silent scream of protest and pleading.

As he went in, I swear my heart stopped. I was still breathing, but to all intents and purposes, my blood had frozen. As the Blaze captain played chicken with Ladi Kudrna, it wasn't just the dreams of every Blaze fan he had on his stick, but seemingly my fragile, fevered soul and every last hope I'd allowed to build up, unawares, about this girl I barely knew.

He scored. As you know if you follow British hockey.

As the celebrations exploded around me, I searched the crowd for people I knew...saw many, many faces that had become friends originally through a shared love for hockey and then just because they had...and was filled with a sense of shared joy almost as strong as any other I've ever had.

And then, I saw her. To this day, whether she meant it or not, I swear our eyes met, and Katie smiled at me-and at that point, even as Coventry went wild around me, there might as well have been no-one else in the room...

Two months later, we became a couple. A year after that, for reasons which are still unclear to me, and out of the blue, she left me. I haven't seen her in nearly three years now, even though I'm still friends with most of that same group of people.

I like to think I've moved on now (although, as everyone does with their first love, I still wonder how she's getting on occasionally). But, when conversation turns to that magical weekend amongst Blaze fans, or when I hear the commentary clip from BBC radio of Tait scoring, I don't remember the season, or the celebrations, or the sight of the goal first of all (although these are memories that I and every other Blaze fan will probably carry forever).

I remember that smile. And, even though Katie and I have gone our separate ways and the chances of me seeing her again are near-as-dammit non-existent, I remember how beautiful it was, how it made me feel, and how it added something even more to my already-stratospheric levels of joy.

And that is why, however many trophies I see the Blaze win in my lifetime (and there've been a few since then) the 04/05 playoff win, even though I spent much of the game throwing up or feeling almost catatonic with tension, will always be the most special one.

Thanks, Katie.

Keep keeping your eye on the puck...

Friday Fancies...

"Sad enough to say that
Alone I could barely light a match
But together we can burn this place down."
Four Year Strong: "Heroes Get Remembered, Legends Never Die"

Let's blast quickly through the news of the week, then.

Panthers sign Cameron Mann: Note the complete lack of any bad pun whatsoever, Panthers PR people. There's no need. The man himself and his pedigree shouts loudly enough. Cameron Mann is a 32 year-old, 6' and 209lb right-winger who comes to the East Midlands from Duisburg of the DEL...and having been to the German city in the Rhineland while I lived over there, I can confirm that this is one of the few signings of the summer in Britain where Nottingham as a city has been used as a significant part of the bait-Sheffield fans may mock their near neighbours and everyone else might know the home of the Panthers only for Robin Hood and gun crime (possibly unfairly) but Duisburg is one of the few places on the planet where a nuclear holocaust would cause several million pounds' worth of improvements....thus making Nottingham look like the Garden of Eden in comparison.

As for the Cameron Mann press-release, which saw the Panthers start with the awful pun to end all awful puns and then descend further into copywriter hell with this actual quote:
"The GMB Nottingham Panthers have been thrilled and excited by all the signing news so far but now we think we’ve added extra cream and a cherry on top"...

Let's just say that the art of classy PR may be dead in the East Midlands. But anyway...

(Hold on-I think I just threw up in my mouth at the thought of Corey Neilson and friends bursting out of the world's most hellish chocolate pudding which that piece of writing conjures...)

Wait a second...

Wait another second...

OK, I'm good...

Enough parochial city-bashing and strange-pudding related thoughts-back to Mr Mann himself. Well, he's a bit good. Having never played below AHL level since his junior career, and being a consistent scorer throughout his time in the AHL and Europe (plus over 100 games in the NHL), the Panthers' roster just got a whole lot better. If this guy can form an effective partnership with Sean McAslan and Bruce Richardson, then that line could be grade-A, blow-the-roof-off dynamite in the EIHL.

But then, this is the Panthers we're talking about...so wait and see.

Stingrays re-sign Matt Reynolds: Another unsung hero of the EIHL last year returns to Hull...Reynolds and Konstantin Kalmikov provided much of the Humbersiders' offensive threat last year along with Jeff Glowa-with the three of them having some very decent-looking team-mates this time round, the Stingrays are looking like the dark times under Rick Strachan have been well and truly swept away.

Vipers sign Tyler Kindle: I so nearly went for a "kindle the fires of success"-type pun here, and had it not been for the jaw-dropping awfulness of the Panthers PR mentioned above, I would have done. Thank you, Nottingham. Thank you very much.

Anyway, Kindle is a 6', 180lb d-man who appears to be the counterpart to Ryan Mahrle, as the Vipers look to throw away the "all brawn and sod-all else" image with another skilful d-man to drive them forward from the back. He appears to have played very few games last season, but has consistently been putting up the points in the ECHL, including 10+34 in 2007/08, so could be a genuine offensive threat on Tyneside. And, unlike the tactics used by the Vipers at times last season, the word "offensive" is the good kind...

That sound you heard just now was a shotgun going off, aimed unerringly at a foot: News comes from Sheffield, who today announced the re-signing of defenceman Randy Dagenais, that his counterpart Steve Munn may have left himself out of the Steelers plans this season after waiting too long to begin negotiations.

Erm...What?!

If Dave Simms, Dave Matsos and co aren't now banging on Munn's door with a sealed-and-delivered contract that only needs his signature, then you have to fear for their sanity. Munn was one of, if not the best defencemen in the league last season, and is the rock the Steelers need in front of Kevin Reiter, particularly with Rod Sarich now moving up to forward...

Assuming that he's now priced himself out of a move abroad and is looking to stay in the UK, expect there to be a scramble for his signature-with Belfast now looking (with no disrespect to Kevin Phillips) a little weaker on defence, Vipers still with a player or two spare and Edinburgh making a wave or two with their signings, there are several possible UK destinations. I still feel he'll most likely return to Sheffield, however.

There you go...a quick run-through the big news of the week so far...I was going to produce the second part of Frozen Dreams, but you may have to wait until late Friday or Saturday for that one due to it now being nearly 1:30 am...

Keep keeping your eye on the puck...

Frozen Dreams, part one

"I wanted to be like you
I wanted everything
So I tried to be like you
And I got swept away"

Michelle Branch: "All You Wanted"

I don't know whether any of you out there have read one of the defining books of sports fandom, that little bit of genius by Nick Hornby known as Fever Pitch. But I have, and while staring at a blank screen trying to think of something to write that wasn't simply a "Panthers sign Cameron Mann-he's quite good"-type post, I suddenly had a flash-thought of just how much of my life is now taken up by hockey, whether it be attempting to play it (badly), writing about it, watching it or discussing it with like-minded lunatics who would rather spend their weekends from August to April shivering in a variety of giant fridges then doing...well, normal things, like going out and getting ratted of a weekend.

Not only that, but later, when I was lying in bed after giving up the idea of writing anything productive and turning the computer off in in a hissy fit, the thought recurred to me, along with the disturbing realisation that there are many, many events in my life that, however obscurely, are linked with either a particular game or a season in my mind, especially as I started watching the sport just as the veil of childhood was lifted and all the things that adolescence and adulthood brings, like first love, first loss of love, the move from school to actually having to live your life, and all the other REALLY MAJOR LIFE STUFF was beginning. This, then, led to the idea of using the blog, just occasionally, to produce something similar to Fever Pitch in a Blaze version. It could be horrific, it could be good, you could cringe like all hell as you get an idea of the person who writes these ramblings and his relationship with this great game of ours, or you could even like it.

Oh-and the title? Blame a good friend of mine for that...my personal choice was "Dreams of Winter" until it was pointed out that this "sounded like an emo porn-film", which, while making me laugh far too much, wasn't exactly the effect I wanted.

Oh, and it will jump around a bit-don't expect it to be in chronological order or anything like that.

Anyway...on we go with the first one...

Life, Love and Gareth Owen (Blaze v Dundee Stars, 2002/2003)

I've always had a soft spot for the underdog...the tenth forward, or the journeyman who rarely gets the ice-time or the notice of his team-mates. Like the back-up goalie, they spend most of their time putting their kit on, sitting on the benches, shouting encouragement to their team-mates, but very rarely get onto the ice or enjoy their moment in the sun-even if their team wins a trophy their presence is often something of an afterthought-their laps of honour come and go, and recognition is little more than a few mentions or empty phrases like "a great guy to have around"...

Gareth Owen, at least where the Coventry Blaze are concerned, was always this player. Signed for his second spell at the club during the BNL title-winning year in 02/03, and remaining at the club for their first Elite League season, he was very rarely seen on the ice, but always entertaining on it. So entertaining, in fact he's spawned his own phenomenon among some Blaze fans, adding to the hockey vocabulary and being immortalized forever in the phrase "the Gizmo Shift":

Gizmo Shift (adj.): a phrase used to describe a passage of play whereby a player steps onto the ice, skates around like a bat out of hell, lands a hit or two, gets nailed with a massive check and touches the puck once or twice in the corners, while hacing a shot that fails to come anywhere near scoring. Named after British hockey player Gareth Owen, who was a master of such shifts and became a crowd favourite for them during his time at the Coventry Blaze.

I always liked Owen...mainly because his style of play appealed to me so much...he was clearly nowhere near the most skilled player on the ice, but he simply didn't (and doesn't to this day) give a flying puck. This approaching life with joyful abandon was something that was far from what I, as a 19-year-old who was always running around in the shadow of more popular friends, generally something of a figure of fun and horrifically, pathologically self-conscious around girls, was able to manage...and in my tortured, prone-to-juvenile-association nineteen-year-old-mind, this whole expenditure of effort and doing his absolute best but always being overshadowed by others in just about every aspect seemed to echo the way I felt about myself...I used to wonder if, like me, he ever, just once or twice, wondered if his moment in the sun was ever going to come or whether he'd be in the background, always considered good to have around, and any success he gained being viewed by the in-crowd as a good thing, as long as he didn't try and get up with the REALLY popular kids. while others took the plaudits, glory and, yes, girls.

Reading that back, you probably get the sense that my late teenage years probably weren't the best of my life, emotionally...and you'd be right. But one of the few nights in that season when I was able to look on the future outside with more than apprehension and something of a dark-tinged outlook was the night in 2003 when this happened.

On the surface, it's a fairly simple hockey fight...until you break it down..not only is Gizmo getting a decent shift, but he flattens Tony Hand (who just happened to be considered the best player in the league...he had, and still has, an aura about him which makes flattening him akin to a builder shouting "get 'em out, love" at the Queen as she passes by on the way to Trooping the Colour) but he then goes in on a breakaway, nearly scores (somehow, the fact that he doesn't just seems to fit the whole Gizmo Shift thing) and then does the unthinkable by actually fighting with Tony Hand!

That night, if I remember correctly, Dundee won 5-0, since the Blaze had won the BNL title the week before (that one is another story, in fact) and it was a tempramental battle with Kurt Irvine and Hilton Ruggles both scrapping with Johan Boman and Chris Conaboy, but this has all been absorbed into the mists of time...the Gizmo scrap, however, has become a part of Blaze legend...certainly, he was the star of that game by some distance despite barely getting on the ice.

Looking back on it afterwards, I remember having the phrase "every dog has his day" come to mind...it seemed that this was some sort of proof that everyone gets their moment in the sun, somehow...even if you have to wait for it behind a ridiculous number of other people. Gizmo is now playing in Telford, where he is also immensely popular, but the fans' love for him in Coventry, born largely out of that scrap one February Sunday night in a nothing game, is something else.

He was somebody, finally. And I'm not quite sure what this proves about my thinking, Blaze fans, or whatever, but the fact that even the "little" guy had had life smile upon him cheered me up immeasurably for quite a while after that (and I needed plenty of cheering up thanks to a social life only slightly less hectic and exciting than a night in the deepest and darkest parts of the Gobi Desert)...it was a source of consolation in its proof that if you kept plugging away and waited long enough, life would reward you with a spot in the sun eventually, somehow...

If I'm brutally honest with myself, there are some things that I wanted back then as a nineteen-year-old that still haven't come to me as a slightly-more-grizzled-and-wise twenty-five year old...but if I ever start to convince myself that the girl for me isn't out there or that attempting to make myself a career beyond a job that means you work to live rather than live to work is fruitless, I can watch that fifty seconds or so of grainy footage on youtube, smile and think "well, if a place in legend and people's hearts can be found on a cold February Saturday in a horrifically dull Blaze loss, it can be found anywhere...as long as you keep looking".

Thanks, Giz...

Don't worry...we'll return to news some time soon...along with a few more glimpses into life, love and hockey history. Until then, though, keep keeping your eye on the puck...

Live from Tumbleweed Central...

"This is Radio Nowhere...
Is there anyone alive out there?"
Bruce Springsteen: "Radio Nowhere"

God, it's quiet. After a burst of news and rumours last week, and much discussion over the Giants which is still going on over on KOTG but appears to have died down everywhere else, the news of signings is becoming less and less frequent as rosters become more complete and offices shut down for the summer break before the run-in to the season begins in early August. However, there are still a few crumbs to pick over...

It's nice when your sources prove reliable: Andre Payette is now officially confirmed as joining the Manchester Phoenix as their second import (Ed Courtenay for the third, anyone?...). A great entertainer and pantomime villain has left the EIHL-and you get the feeling most EPL fans, those from Manchester excepted, really don't know what's coming. Payette's one of those players who has had all sorts of myth, legend and half-truth build up around him during his time in the UK, but watching him play in the flesh when he's entered the "Payette Zone" of complete and total insanity combined with no small amount of skill is something few who've seen him play will soon forget. Fans of the EPL, and Phoenix in particular, you've got an experience akin to riding down a grassy bank in a shopping trolley coming-it will be wild, there'll be bumps in the road, you won't know exactly where it'll end up once it's started and outside influences will have no control whatsoever over what happens.

Oh, and there's a chance it could all go wrong very quickly, very loudly, and with much violence.

Buckle up. :)

Who got the talent in the Phillips house? We shall see: Back when the Blaze were winning trebles and Joe Watkins was still considered the top British goalie, he played against his brother Tom a few times while in net for London, and the Blaze's Watkins brother seemed to revel in scoring past him, and without fail triggering a cheerful little ditty from the Blaze crowd which went something along the lines of (to the Sunderland FC song "Super Kevin Phillips")...

"Who got the talent in the Watkins house? (x3)
Super Tommy Watkins".

Not exactly comedy gold, but it seemed to work in getting the point across as to which brother was having the better game, even provoking the goalie Watkins into what may have been a repeated horizontal wave of the glove every time it started up, to acknowledge the wit of the travelling Blaze support throughout one game in Lee Valley. Although it was strange that he performed the gesture at crotch level, thus preventing half the Blaze crowd from seeing it, it was still greeted with a cheer if I remember correctly...;)

Anyway-this reminiscence does have a point. Belfast have now provided another ripe opportunity for sibling-related taunting, by replacing Dave Phillips, who as mentioned earlier on this month is AHL-bound, with his older, slightly-less-illustrious brother Kevin, who joins after a career mainly spent in his home team of Hull alongside his brother. However, recently the younger Dave has risen to something approaching stardom, while Kevin's career has, if not exactly stalled at EPL level, certainly not progressed with the same rapidity...it will be interesting to see how he performs now he's being given a chance as a d-man expected to consistently produce at EIHL level...

Facebook. It's the future, apparently: From the "important, if true" file comes the mention that Tylor Michel (stats here) is the final import in Cardiff, after being befriended on Facebook by a Devils fan and supposedly confirming in an online chat that he was on the way. He looks like another example of a young, hungry player coming to Britain to prove himself after a decent start in the ECHL...but let's see the official announcement before we comment any further...

Matt Myers. Now there's some average-sized skates to fill: Nottingham have signed Ross Dalgliesh away from Edinburgh, meaning that Mark Garside is the only remaining member of the trio-nicknamed-by-me-and-probably-no-one-else as the "Top Scots" from last year to remain in Edinburgh. Dalgliesh will slot into the gap left by Matt Myers, who is trying his luck in the ECHL this season.

Believe it or not, there is hockey out there:..summer is traditionally a time for recreational teams to be the most active, but here in Coventry the Chaos are turning that activity into a bid to help charity, holding a charity match on the 2nd August which, were it a golf game, would probably be the equivalent of a pro-am tournament, as rec players (me included) line up side-by-side with such well-known names in British hockey as Luc Chabot, Paul Thompson, James Pease, and others in a game between two mixed pro-am teams. It's all in aid of the NSPCC, doors are open from 6:15pm on the day at the Skydome, with f.o around 7:15, and details can be found on facebook here...

I told you it was a quiet time...but there is a Falla-esque post in the works which should appear in the next few days...

Keep keeping your eye on the puck...

Pucks, Half-Truths, and Stick Tape

"Beneath the concrete there’s a sound...a muffled cry below the ground
There is a poison in the air...a mix of chemicals and fear
Mama, I've just hunches, I’m not sure what they mean..."
Maximo Park: "Our Velocity"

It's amazing how even the merest mention of money can polarise British hockey...after Wednesday's post, the hare of speculation is off and running, chased hard by the hounds...it's not taken long for the denials to come loud and long in the forum world, with Wednesday's mention of events in Northern Ireland being dismissed as "made-up", "overblown" and my personal favourite..."chav rubbish".

However, along with the slings and arrows have also come a few hints of truth...certainly there are many in British hockey forum-land wondering if it's possible to protest too much, and exactly what is going on, if anything, behind the calm facade of the Odyssey.

I should state once again that anything further is not fact unless clearly presented as such-however, it seems that the "Giants owing money" rumour may have some foundation-the Breakaway has heard a whisper that, in tthe course of fixture arrangements last season, there may have seen promises made to that seemingly weren't kept, leaving other teams out of pocket.
Further, it seems that the dates on several occations, at least those on the "other" side of the Irish Sea, were arranged without any consultation between the clubs involved, with no room for maneouvre, with travel arrangements made by the Giants in order to make them possible. However, despite promising to take care of the expense, the money reportedly never appeared.

This one could run a while...

Sharks in the Water

"Baby, there's a shark in the water
There's something underneath my bed"...
V.V Brown: "Shark In the Water"

Interestingly, the rumours floating round about Belfast's potential financial problems, as mentioned in yesterday's post, have taken on a life of their own. After yesterday's rumours of "cost-cutting" appeared to be substantiated by those far closer to the Giants on this Kingdom Of the Giants thread (you need to be registered to view, but the basic gist of it is that several posters have come out appearing to confirm that cuts have been made within the Giants office recently), the Breakaway has now heard whispers from several areas that one organisation within British hockey has not received money it was promised by the Giants last season, despite waiting for several months.

Now, I should point out that, being a mere fan, with no connection to the Giants organisation, and thus no access to either the Giants' accounts or the league's dealings, I'm not sure of the veracity of this, and am presenting it as nothing more than a rumour....however, once again this information has come from a reliable source within the parties concerned.

Make of it what you will...

A Dance To The Music Of Time...

"Out here, the birds don't sing
Out here, the fields don't grow
Out here, the bells don't ring...
And the good girls die"
The Killers: "A Dustland Fairytale"

I'm really starting to despise summer now, with a passion...simply because the burning hockeyless wasteland of each day seems without end (there's only so long you can lie on a beach, particularly if, like me, you have ice and snow in your soul and prefer the velvety inky blackness of midwinter evenings to the relentless, glaring glow of midsummer), the weekend nights, whatever you're doing, still miss the excitement of game time, the news comes in dribs and drabs, and rumours and half-truths are about as fun as it gets...

But rumours and half truths are better than nothing-there's even some genuine news in there, so as we continue to dance aimlessly and often drunkenly through summer with nothing more than the odd crumb of speculation to sustain our hockey appetites, let's have a look at it before departing into the realms of wild speculation and, as the title hints at, Icetunes returns with a few music gems that can take away the sting of hockeyless nights...as well as provide a bloody good accompaniment to anything else you may be doing...


A Brit Abroad: Let's start with perhaps the biggest news for British ice hockey as a whole. After being invited to the Chicago Blackhawks' prospect camp recently, Belfast d-man Dave Phillips, considered as one of British hockey's brightest home-grown talents, has been signed on a two-way between Rockford Icehogs (AHL) and the ECHL, with the potential to make the next step up now more than just a distant dream...much as I despised him when he played for Belfast, good on him.

Trouble is, Belfast are now left with a massive hole at the back, with Phillips being one of their top four defencemen and all the import slots now filled back there, either Graeme Walton will have to step up a level or there will need to be some readjustment in the Giants' season plan...

But then, at least they'll save on the wages: However, it could be questioned whether the Giants will sign a new player at all, with rumours from the Northern Irish capital pointing to light purses in the Giants camp and desperate measures, up to and including quietly "re-organising" their staff, being taken to make sure their (exciting-looking) roster will actually be seen on British ice. Obviously, we hear such rumours every single season, but this one will warrant watching closely...

The EPL doesn't know what's coming: Andre Payette, everyone's favourite pantomime villain, has been strongly linked with Manchester recently by sources in both Newcastle and Manchester-if he's allowed to play rather than expected to perform pantomime antics such as he was in a Vipers shirt, then he could dominate the EPL in the power-forward stakes...it will be extremely interesting to see if this one comes off.

As if the Skydome boards weren't rickety enough already...: they'll now have to contend with the impacts of bodies placed there by Jason Robinson-the ex-London Racer, Newcastle Viper and Sheffield Steeler, who isn't exactly shy when it comes to introducing opposition players to the plexi with extreme prejudice, is the Blaze's final import signing, returning from the IHL to provide the Skydome side with some muscle on the blue-and a more-than-useful enforcing element to his game also.

Meanwhile, up north...: Defence is the watchword, with Hull, Newcastle and Edinburgh all adding players new to the UK to their defensive strength recently. Ryan Jorde joins the Stingrays from the IHL, as well as Stephen Burns from the CHL, Jerramie Domish (something of a pocket battleship at 5'9 and 200lbs) heads to the Vipers from the AHL, and Michael Beynon, who has been linked with an unnamed EIHL club since the beginning of the summer, heads to the Capitals. The first three seem to be defencemen equally comfortable at either end of the ice, while Beynon is reported as someone more inclined to take care of business in his own end before charging forward-all three should be considerable improvements to their teams, with Domish in particular carrying an impressive pedigree with him...


However, perhaps the signing of the summer so far has occurred not for one of the big four teams but up in Edinburgh. Chris Allen joins after playing last year in Asia, but his stats suggest he could be the top d-man in the league next season...consider these facts:

Tied for second all-time scoring in the OHL for a defenceman-the other two players are ones you might have heard of...Bobby Orr and Al MacInnis.

A shot clocked at 103mph

13 goals and 25 assists in his last season in the ECHL, before moving over to Denmark

He's not exactly small either at 6'3 and 223lbs...and judging by this, should be popular off the ice as well. Particularly if he also brings his fellow "sexiest vegetarian" title holder with him...

Finally, in the land of steel, Sheffield have finally signed their replacement to Jody Lehman-it's ex-Bison goalie Kevin Reiter. Now, you'll forgive me if I'm not exactly conceding the league title to Sheffield yet, but Reiter struck me as something of a one-game-wonder last season. Yes, there's the whole "66 shots, 65 saves" malarkey (and as a Blaze fan who was present that day, that still stings a little), but one wonders if his exploits behind a Bison defence who were quite frankly bloody awful have placed his skills in a somewhat flattering light...there was a rumour he was Blaze-bound earlier in the summer and this worried me hugely, given that he hadn't looked hugely special in any of the other games I'd seen him play in. Nevertheless, he's still a decent goalie at this level, particularly with a better defence in front of him this time out. Whether he's a enough of a stand-out goalie to meet the expectations in Sheffield, though, particularly with the spectre of Jody Lehman lingering in the wistful minds of many a Steelers fan, remains to be seen.

And that's now you lot just about up to date...

And now, and in time for something completely different, for some music...

It's been a long time since the last IceTunes (several months, in fact) but with it now being midsummer, here's one or two songs, old and new, that the Breakaway recommends to help blast the summer by and sound as good now as thumping out of your rinks speakers in autumn...I suggest you turn the volume up to eleven before reading on...and click on the youtube links to hear them...

Florence and the Machine: "Kiss From a Fist": We start with something bang up-to-date. This is awesome...it's the kind of sleazy thing you can imagine fitting just as well in a sweaty club as when the gloves drop...it bounces along like one of those small balls you used to get from vending machines and lifts you almost as high while doing so. Their album Lungs is pretty special as a whole, but this is probably the stand-out track from it...

Explosions in the Sky: "First Breath After Coma": And, at the complete opposite end of the spectrum, you have this. People have compared them to an American Sigur Ros (more of which later), and like the Icelanders they have a gift of making music that doesn't so much represent a tune as a state of mind. This song is my favourite one of theirs-a simple way of describing it is "instrumental prog-rock", but that doesn't really do them justice. This is the kind of music that, when played, can make even the most mundane tasks seem epic. The Earth Is Not a Cold, Dead Place does tend to disappear somewhat up a cul-de-sac, and you probably need a perfect summer evening and lying staring at the sky in order to appreciate it properly, but this is music at its most raw emotionalness...

As for what relevance this has to sports or where it'd fit in in a hockey game...well, how about this for a pre-game build up?

Sigur Ros: "Hoppipolla": The title means "jumping in puddles" in Icelandic. Which makes it perfect for a walk in an English summer. If you prefer your music a bit faster, then maybe the Chicane dance remix (I'm shuddering typing that) is more your style. My advice-stick with the original, get quietly drunk in your back garden on a clear summer night with someone you care about, and lie next to each other staring at the stars. It helps the summer pass quicker...

Aiden: "Die Romantic": Yes, if it was any more emo it would only be found in the corner of your bedroom, crying over wilted flowers and writing poems about the sweet embrace of death despite being about fourteen*. But it's still a very good song indeed to just randomly fire out of your speakers and laugh at the overblown-ness of it, while at the same time secretly enjoying it.

*(note-I actually like this sort of thing...this is what is known as "irony." No offence is meant to anyone of such a disposition, whether real or put on for effect)

Nine Inch Nails: "Wish": Violent, chaotic and fast. Also a bit disturbing to those who don't understand the appeal of such entertainment. Just like hockey, in fact...

And finally, a link or two...: Goalies. They're a strange breed. And they like to write a fair bit when they're not stopping projectiles being fired at their head...Ken Dryden and Jack Falla in particular come to mind...
Becky over at Five Minute Major is one in a long line of literary puck-stoppers, and has produced this extremely enjoyable piece which seeks to work out just why all the best hockey literature is produced by those in masks...which, assuming I can marshal my thoughts, may see a response from the other end of the stick (almost literally, what with me preferring to attempt to score goals as a forward rather than stop them)...

Also tonight, The Cat's Whiskers' Jono Bullard is interviewed by a site I'm likely very remiss in not linking to before now-UK Hockey Live, offspring of the already successful View From the Bridge, in which he and Patrick from the podcast discuss the growing popularity of the UK hockey blogosphere, and he also says some very nice things about yours truly...it's an interesting listen...

And that, ladies and gents, is your lot for now...

Keep keeping your eye on the puck...

A Song of Ice and Fire

"I'd like to sing a song...a song of great social and political import. And it goes like this..."
Janis Joplin: "Mercedes Benz"

"On a lonely afternoon in June, I need you...just like raindrops"
Basement Jaxx: "Raindrops"

"Winter is coming"
George R. R. Martin, first words of the "A Song of Ice and Fire" series

I have a confession to make. I despise summer. And this is why.

Every year, without fail, the same thing keeps happening. The hotter it gets, the more I long for the sun to disappear again.

Halfway through the hottest day of the year last week, a day which saw the British workplace turned into an experience far beyond even Dante's wildest dreams of infernal torment, a day in which air-conditioners howled in pain as they were worked harder than they have been in many years, I left my desk for a few minutes and heard a very brief burst of this from a passing car as I sought a breath of air outside.

And much as I despise the song, its almost ubiquitous presence in British ice-rinks (most notably Nottingham and my own second home, the Skydome) meant that, as others sweated and complained about the heat, my soul went on one of its increasingly frequent journeys to a world where it is permanently early September, the leaves are just starting to fall from the trees and you can make the trip to hockey in golden sunshine one day and a dark, wet, rain-pattering evening the next.

This is a world when hope springs eternal, the winter stretches away in front of you and everything that's been so sorely missed during the seemingly endless weeks of speculation, rumour-mongering and desperate hunting around for information on new signings is back. The new signings are on the ice, your spot at the plexi is still open and you fit it like an old, familiar glove, and the boys of summer have finally given way. It's a bright, shining time lit by the muted glare of floodlights off pristine new ice and soundtracked by conversations picked up almost where they left off in April.

Trouble is, reality intrudes all too quickly, and we're back to an earth of traffic jams, heatwave alerts and overcrowded beer-gardens, sound-tracked by Eeeeebeeeefaaaa anthems, the sound of British failure at Wimbledon, rain-delayed cricket matches and really, really bad holiday dancefloor songs.

But surely I can't be the only one whose summer is occasionally interrupted by such dreams...it can be a fragment of song, a random video on youtube, or even the kind of memory when you're bored and daydreaming at work on a burning midsummer Wednesday...

The bite of the hockey bug is one that just keeps on itching...and you only need one bite to put the poison of being a closet summer-hater into your blood...

Come join me in the autumn of the soul...it's only 50 days or so until hockey season begins again...:)

There you are...after such philosophy, a bit of hard news will go down a storm, so in the next few days we'll have another round-up of the latest goings-on and player movements in the EIHL.

Until then, keep enjoying the summer...