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.
They all miss hockey so much it just plain sucks, to much money. Happy trails! Great blog will forward on.
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