2008 Woodie Awards
All iced out
Sports commentary
Derek Casanovas, Photo/Multimedia EditorAll the signs of fall are around Whitworth.
The pine needles have begun to fall across the green carpet of campus lawn. Scorching summer rays have given way to damp October rain. The blustery cold bites at your ears on the way to the HUB.
The drop in temperatures can give rise to different ideas, however.
Some people interpret fall as the pathetic reasoning to go shopping for a North Face fleece or some cute American Eagle mittens.
Other weak-minded people will surmise that the colder weather means people need to stay inside and curl up in a ball with some hot cocoa and a diary by the natural gas-lit fireplace. What a sad story there.
In the northern gem of our nation, Alaska, fall is the time of year when a certain buzz word starts to fly around the city like the most virgin of snowflakes in a crisp October air: hockey.
Since I just saw a collective slumping in your seats from nearly everyone who read the article to this point, I want to know how many of you have played hockey before or even been to a collegiate or professional game before. Raise your hand if you have.
I seriously hope you didn't raise your hand - you probably look like an idiot raising your hand while reading a newspaper right now.
At any rate, many people have not yet fully experienced hockey. While I've been to a Whitworth hockey game or two and I respect the hard work and dedication they have, it just does not come close to how warm and fuzzy it feels to step into a 15,000 seat arena where I can see my breath.
There might as well be a welcome mat to signify this arena is home to the clatter of bodies being thrown into each other against a wood and Plexiglas barrier. The arena houses an ice hockey rink that is 200 hundred feet in length and is as glassy smooth as Bill Cosby's delicious Jell-o. This is a rink where if you get close enough to it, you can feel the frigid spray of ice into the crowd on your face and arms from the sharp blade of a hockey skate. The scent of a Polish hot dog with sauerkraut dances beneath your nostrils and intermixes with the horrendous breath of the inebriated Canadian guy sitting next to you.
This is the place where a blood-spattered knuckle sandwich gets delivered like the Spokesman Review - daily. Hell, the rules even say it's legal.
If you're real quiet, you can almost hear the shrill of a cowbell resonate and the whir of a towel being swung as the red goal lamp is lit after a puck screams past the goalie at 100 miles per hour.
Exhilarated yet?
It is clear to see that NASCAR has surpassed the NHL in popularity now. Hockey is no longer considered one of the "Big Four" of major American sports anymore.
While the game may have its flaws in terms of being low scoring and displaying fewer breathtakingly gifted athletes than say the NFL or the NBA, the coldest game around still has its appeal to a dedicated number of people. To these fans, the game is more than big hits, fast goals and flashy dekes.
To them the game goes back to hockey at a frozen pond or elementary school rink after dinner on a school night. For kids who didn't let the cold weather discourage them, but let it harden them like little Spartans.
And while I'm a little soft in comparison to the rest of the hockey world, I can tough it out enough in the arena to see my hometown Alaska Aces play again.
After all, my dad didn't have me memorize all the referee's penalty signals for nothing.
Contact Derek Casanovas at derek.casanovas@whitworthian.com.
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