Wot No Rushforth?
| Sunday 30 September, 2007 |
LA Kings 4, Anaheim Ducks 1, 29/09/07 (still can't believe I've just typed that...)
 You are SO naughty |
My last NHL game was some seven years ago when I had a two-week whirlwind tour of Chicago, Detroit, Buffalo (weird,) Toronto and Philadelphia. A different day, a different airport, watching The Show and generally whooping it with the rest of them.
My last hockey match in Docklands was some five years ago; I lived the Dream, home and away, for five years of my life. The dream died, thanks to that nice Mr Anschutz pulling the plug on the London franchise and putting the Knights 'on ice' (his words, not mine.)
It's been St reatham for me ever since. Even the most robust Redskins fan would be forced to admit that it's some step up from the English National League Division One (South) to The Show. To say that I was excited about Saturday is like saying that hockey players have a brain. Of course they don't, and I wasn't just excited, I was exhilarated, enraptured and electrified - and that was just at the thought of watching the warm up.
Strange how St reatham doesn't quite have this effect on me.
Thirty years of hockey watching and my interest has waned in recent years. The let down of the London Knights, swiftly followed by the plucky (but doomed to fail) London Racers has left me frozen out of UK hockey. I was about to walk away from the great game for good. I needed the NHL Show to start off my interest once again.
With the traditional pre-hockey ritual of watching Slapshot (the greatest film EVER ...all about hockey) the night before, and I was all set up for Saturday afternoon. I was rather hoping that my next hockey match in South East London would feature the Knights, but at least I was amongst familiar friends and faces once again. I was almost expecting an airing of the Bracknell Family Retard song during the first period break.
LET'S PLAY HOCKEY!!!!
Um, but first let's have an argument with the Security Guard at the Dome With No Soul.
'That's not a consumer camera, Sir.'
'Absolute crap - are you calling me a professional? If so, give me a media pass and put me in a front row seat.'
'Sir will have to leave the camera with us for his own safety.'
'What utter nonsense. What are you expecting me to do? Sit on the lens and get it wedged up my arse?'
The Security Guard didn't seem the sort who reads Digital Photography Monthly. And neither and I, come to think of it.
'What size lens is deemed the cut off point between a professional and a consumer model?' I enquired.
'Oh, um, 35 mm?' came back the rhetorical answer.
'All's fine and dandy then,' I replied as I barged past him and pointed out some bollocks about an amateur aperture adjustment mechanism.
'You are SO naughty,' remarked mrs onionbagblogger.
But she was having her own spot of bother with the bag searchers:
'The fuckers tried to take my water bottle off me,' she said.
'What did you tell them?' I asked.
'That I'm on critical medication and I need water, else I'm in danger of spontaneously combusting.'
Woh! Way to go, girl.
She may have won the moral high ground (as per usual) but I won the Who Can Spot the First London Knights Top competition. Plenty of Panthers (well, what else is there to do in Nottingham?) some Steelers, and even a caravan of Invicta pikeys from down the road.
And one lone London Knights top. London Arena was a lonely place, after all.
Keeping with the Old Time Hockey tradition (Eddie Shore!) our seats were right on the blue line, the exact same location where we watched five years of hockey at the old London Arena. Shame we needed to charter a plane to get all the way up to our place. I squinted down and could just about make out a genuine NHL star.
'Nope, that's a hot dog seller,' said mrs obb.
As well as importing the players, the North American enorm-o-dome culture was also in force. The strict bag search meant no food or drink was allowed to be brought into the arena. And so instead of out of date cheese and onion pasties (49p for two at Sainsbury's,) I took a look at the prices for the pre-packaged plastic food on sale and thought FUCK OFF.
mrs obb buggered off to buy a �10 portion of cheese on toast masquerading as a pizza,' whilst I watched the warm up. Watch the Puck at ALL Times, but there was no danger of being hit on the head sitting up in the heavens. Despite our high altitude, the view was actually superior to St reatham. You don't say...
Looking around and the UK Hockey community was out in force. These are the people I have grown up with and followed around the country on domestic and European road trips. The British hockey ruling Establishment is forever fractured with in fighting and political squabbles as to which ruling power controls the puck. The UK hockey community is always left to pick up the pieces as teams fold and franchises move on. How wonderful then for a weekend of first class hockey with no interference from the fools that have ruined the British game in recent years.
The National Anthems left a nasty taste in the mouth, especially so the Star Spangled Banner. When in
I sat down for God Save the Queen. JUST DROP THE BLOODY PUCK!!!!
And so finally, after a five year sabbatical, pro hockey was back in South East London. And boy - it was back BIG time.
But first... remember how it was 'will the last person to leave the Dome please switch off the lightst' back in Mr Tony's day? Seems like the Dome is still sucking up money as we had a fifteen minute delay due to 'lighting difficulties.' That nice Mr Anschutz has a history of 'equipment failure' with the plexi glass once famously going walkabouts in Docklands.
We finally faced-off for a first period of dump and chase hockey. But it was NHL dump and chase, so that makes it all right then. The 'home' LA crowd weren't cheered on at 11:25 with a five on three power play led to the King's opening goal. The Duck's defence was deader than a London Elite League franchise.
1-0 at the first period break and then something utterly remarkable happened: Streatham Redskins played a period of hockey in the NHL. Blimey Charley! The under-10 Streatham Braves faced off against a team from Slough. One goal apiece seemed about fair, even if the officiating from a man wearing a Lion costume wasn�t. The Good 'Ol Hockey Game kept us entertained as the double (!) zambonis did their laps of honour.
The start of the second period and Come On
Quack quack oops.
Old time hockey! Eddie Shore! Watch the red light in the penalty box as here comes another TV break for the folks back home in Beverley Hills. Put yer burritos down, fella - 29:45 and King's had a 2-0 lead with a second goal from Mike Cammalleri. This was something I was rather hoping for as it set up the fun for hat trick and my chance to test the NO OBJECTS TO BE TTHROWN ON THE ICE policy.
Old time hockey! Eddie Shore! Caps on the ice!
A lifetime ban at the O2...
A third goal came in the third, but not from Cammalleri; a fantastic one timer worth the �25 price of the ticket alone. Thoughts of a shut out for the Kings disappeared when Ducks scored with six minutes remaining. With the net minder pulled for the final 1:30, no surprises that Kings added a short-handed empty netter to wrap up the game.
And so this year in South London I've watched Le Tour de France, the National Hockey League and there's National Basketball League still to come. Oh - and don't forget that Dulwich are next at home to the Thuggers & Muggers of Tooting on Tuesday night.
