This Is Hockey

Fall is in full swing.  My birthday has passed and Thanksgiving is right around the corner.  If you have gone to the malls, Christmas is barreling down the pike and it is heading straight for us.  But for me, something is still missing from this time of year.  While I still enjoy playing the sport, there is nothing like attending a live NHL hockey game.  The end of the year also culminates with an outdoor game, the NHL’s Winter Classic.  Gary Bettman and greed have taken all that away.

As the NHL has stalled, my own hockey season goes on.  Recently I was at the Rinx in Hauppauge.  I usually get my skates sharpened there before a game.  This night, I accidentally stumbled upon a game.  The Rinx is the home of the Stony Brook Seawolves.  It was Saturday night and a crowd was formed in the adjacent rink.  The Seawolves opponent that night?  The Drexel Dragons.  I watched for a few minutes while my skates were being done.  Forgotten for a moment was the NHL, and I was suddenly transformed back to a simpler time.

It was January of 1985 and I was returning to college in Philadelphia after completing my Co-op assignment in New York.  It had been six months since I had lived on campus, so it was almost like starting over again.  I would be rooming with a friend, a business major, who was not part of the co-op program.  He had been on campus for the fall semester so he would get me up to speed.  My buddy had become friends with several guys on the floor already.  One of them played ice hockey, and said he was the goalie for Drexel’s team.  Drexel has a hockey team?  Who knew?  At the time it was only a club team, but he said they played all the other local colleges that did not have sanctioned college hockey programs.  I asked them where they heck they played, I did not see any arena here at Drexel.  He let us know that they played their home games at University of Penn’s Class of ’23 rink.  He said we should come down and watch.  My friend asked him if anyone actually came down for the games.  The goalie responded, ‘Well, not really…but you can bring beer.”  Sold!

The following week boasted Drexel hockey’s next home game.  It was a Wednesday so our beer supplies were only remnants of the weekend’s indulgence.  The Class of ’23 rink was a bit of a hike, so we couldn’t just walk around with all these loose beers.  We needed something to carry them.  It also had to be something we could dispose of since we were going out afterwards.  We found a large paper bag that had been used to buy groceries the day before.  Perfect.  Going forward this would be our vessel for the cans…simply referred to as “Bag O’Beer”.  My friend and I headed off to Penn.  We were told to follow the “High Line” rail and we would eventually get to the rink.  Its formal name is the West Philadelphia Elevated Branch, although it’s been called the “High Line” for decades.  This elevated route was constructed in the 1930s and no trains had run on it since 1980.  As we passed the last of Drexel’s orange brick buildings we entered into a desolate abandoned area.  It was a no-mans land between the Drexel and U of Penn campuses.  At least we had our beer.  After about a ½ mile we could see lights in the distance.  As we approached the building seemed abandoned, but we could see “Class of ‘23” adorning the one side.  This was the place.  The game had already started.  You could hear the echo of an empty rink.  We settled ourselves on the cold cement stands.  We had our choice of location.  The rink was frigid, so at least the beer would stay cold.  We settled in and watched.  As the game continued, so did our drinking.  Since we seemed to be the only two fans, we made sure our team knew of our presence.  After our goalie friend would make a big save we would cheer even louder.  A raise of his stick towards us showed his appreciation.  Drexel would go on to win the game 5-2.  On the way off the ice our goalie friend came over to thank us for coming down.  Now worries…we were hooked.

The following day my buddy told our tale of the game to the others on our floor.  As the week went by interest grew as the game approached.  The next home game we would be better prepared.  We rallied about a dozen or so guys to come with us…all of us carrying our own “Bag O’Beer”.  After the others attended they began to tell their friends…and so on…you know how it goes.  The crowds at the games slowly began to grow…and the players began to play to the crowd.  It was turning into a mini version of “Slapshot”.  The louder the crowd, the harder the players hit their opponents.  And like the movie, sometimes not within the rules of the game.  Being so close to the ice we were able to verbally abuse opposing players…and refs.  The other team's goalie would be serenaded with “It’s All Your Fault” each time they gave up a goal.  We even brought a makeshift red light to set up behind the other team’s net.  But it was all in good fun.

However the crowds continued to grow and soon kegs replaced the “Bag O’Beer”.  Unfortunately students came for the alcohol and not the event.  Word got out about Drexel’s fans, and opposing teams would bring theirs.  “But tonight they got their fans with them!”  For the most part it remained calm, but it all culminated in March.  The game had been circled for a while.  Drexel vs U of Penn.  We had made their rink rock as our own.  They felt it was time to take it back.  Beer flowed.   Tempers flared…both on and off the ice.  Fights broke out on the ice, but it soon included the fans.  Fans shouted at the players, players responded.  Players with players, fans with players, fans with fans.  My friend and I sat there finishing our beer.  The game was called…we knew the way we came to enjoy the game would be called too.

After that game beer was banned from the arena.  Gone were the kegs and the crowds.  Things would eventually calm down.  The next season my friend and I, and a few select other would return with our “Bag O’Beer” to watch the games.  We made sure this time not to share this information with too many others.  After we graduated, Drexel would move into a more formal collegiate hockey league.  The days of the “Slapshot” goonery dissipated.  Recently the Dragons garnered a lot of attention when they defeated rival Villanova University, 7-3, in the 2012 Crosstown Classic “Battle at the Bank” Jan. 5.  The game was held outdoors at Citizens Bank Park on the same rink where the Philadelphia Flyers and New York Rangers played the 2012 NHL Winter Classic just three days earlier.

Luckily Bettman and the NHL didn’t cancel that one.

On Or Close

Tomorrow LIRR customers can record videotaped comments at two LIRR stations this week about the MTA's proposed fare changes.  All comments will be transcribed and made part of the permanent record for review by the MTA Board.  Unfortunately for them, Ronkonkoma Station was among the two chosen as a location…unfortunately for them, because that is MY train station.  I am less concerned about the fare hike, and my time will be focused on the decades of neglect in upgrading a system that is reminiscent of the 1950’s…and they are held to the standards of that day.  There is a three-minute time limit for each individual's videotaped comments.  Three minutes is not nearly enough.

 

I don’t even know where to begin, so I will start at the beginning.  Growing up in Valley Stream at my Grandparents house was as close to rural as I will ever get.  The 50’x100’ plots were not yet laid out and there was still plenty of free land to roam.  You even heard the rooster’s crow as dawn approached.  Yes, Valley Stream…THAT Valley Stream.  There was a house behind us, but you could barely tell where our property ended and theirs began.  I became close friends with the kid who lived there, as he was only a year older than me.  His Dad, knowing mine was not around, took me under his wing at times…like one of his own.   In the winter he would let his son and I take out his O-scale trains and set them up all along his basement floor.  I am surprised we did not electrocute ourselves, these were vintage 1940’s trains…and safety was not a priority when they were building them.  In the summer, we would head up to Connecticut and the Branford Trolley Museum.  It was a vintage railroad where you could step back in time and ride the rails.  What a great place to go as a kid.  How did my friend’s Dad become such a train aficionado?  He was an LIRR Conductor.

 

It must have been an exciting time to be part of the LIRR.  With each passing year the technology would grow.  As families moved from Brooklyn to Long Island, the railroad expanded to meet the needs of the commuter.  My friend’s Dad had a huge portfolio of pictures showing the evolution of the railroad.  I would spend hours going through each one.  At this time, the big project was elevating the south shore line.  Valley Stream station had already been raised, but the project was scheduled to go all the way to Babylon.  It was 1975 and my friend’s Dad was invited to the ribbon cutting ceremony at the Merrick Station.  All the LIRR bigwigs were there, and also the Mayor of the town.  We all stood on the platform awaiting the ceremonial first train to arrive.  My friend and I went to the very end of the station to be the first to spot it.  As we saw the lights appear down the far end of the track, I ran to tell my friend’s Dad, “The train is coming, the train is coming.”  The following day in the paper, the event was written up in an article in Newsday.  The Mayor proudly describes the day and how the new station was vital to the growing town.  As the ceremony was beginning, the Mayor thought wouldn’t it be nice if someone could make a big deal about the arriving train.  He said as if on queue, a young redheaded freckled kid ran through the crowd shouting, “The train is coming, the train is coming.”  This is the last time I recall any major upgrade to the track line by the LIRR.

 

When the LIRR finished the south shore line project in 1980, one would think they would move on to bigger and better.  They never did.  In 1987 the Main Line was electrified all the way out to Ronkonkoma, but no massive track project was ever to take place again.  They promised a third track on the main line through Nassau.  They promised a SECOND track on the main line through Suffolk.  Promises, promises.  Long Island’s population continued to grow, but the LIRR failed to have any foresight to be able to handle the added traffic.  Or perhaps they just didn’t care.  I think it is a little of both.  I came across an LIRR timetable from 1928 for the Port Washington branch on eBay.  I was surprised to find the same stations listed since I did not know the history of that branch.  What I found out next though, stunned me.  The timetable from station to station was EXACTLY the same.  The same amount of time it took you from Port Washington to Woodside in 1928, is the same time today.  You would think in 80 plus years they might have shaved a minute or two off.  Nope!

 

The Port Washington line is the one line that does not go through Jamaica Station.  You would think that if any line could speed things up it would be that one, since it did not have to perform the “Jamaica Crawl”.  For those of you not familiar, it is the speed at which a train has to go through the Jamaica switches.  The reason?  This nest of track stupidity was designed in 1911…and never changed.  Even if your train does not stop at Jamaica, you still have to go through it.  No express tracks were ever built to speed trains past.  You might have heard the switching system was upgraded a year or so back.  What you might not have heard was that a lightning strike brought down the whole system only a few months later.  Now this was the lever and pulley system that was finally upgraded after 100 years, but the new computer system is still operating the same antiquated switches themselves.  They frequently break down and in cold weather have an issue with freezing.  One cold day a few years back I found out why.  As I was travelling SLOWLY on the Jamaica Crawl, I stared out the window into the abyss.  Much like seeing a gremlin on the wing, I thought my eyes were playing tricks.  Down below on the track, there were flames.  I was ready to flag down a conductor to warm him of the perils that lie ahead.  That was when I noticed ALL the tracks had flames on them. OH MY GOD, this is the deicing system?  Good thing the LIRR doesn’t run an airline!  It was in an article during the big snowstorm in 2009 that the LIRR said their service came to a halt because the system to keep the switches from freezing kept failing.  Of course it did, the wind from the storm must have kept blowing out the flames!  They failed to put THAT in the article.  No one would have believed it.

 

This leads me to my BIGGEST pet peeve about the LIRR.  “We are sorry for the delay, we can’t control the weather.”  Yes, I agree with that.  But what you could have controlled was the years of neglect and not upgrading the system with technologies that CAN handle the weather.  Rain, thunderstorms and snow are nothing new to the Northeast.  I understand when we have a hurricane, a nor’easter, a blizzard…even the tornado that touched down in Queens.  But riders are faced with delays when there are simple weather changes, and the LIRR is quick to use it as an excuse.  It rains.  There are thunderstorms in the summer.  There is snow and cold in the winter.  You don’t need a Farmer’s Almanac to predict these things.

 

All it would take is an organization that cares about its customers and the want to provide a quality service.  Even the Post Office boasts “And neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night, nor the winds of change, nor a nation challenged, will stay us from the swift completion of our appointed rounds.”

 

The LIRR can’t even handle “On or Close”