Post by patrickkagool on Sept 25, 2007 13:02:24 GMT
I am a freelance sports writer who writes about minority sports. I have in the past penned several articles about Gym Hockey in Nottingham. Here is one of them. Enjoy.
Patrick Kagool
Little has been documented about the roots of gym hockey in Nottingham, It has a long standing tradition and rich history. Many have argued as to the true birthplace and whilst there are recorded instances of gym hockey being played in some areas expert historians chart the birth and rise of gym hockey to the William Olds Boys Club Arena in Bestwood as the true founding cornerstone. Other leagues that occurred before this 1986 beginning had bizarre rules that participants must have limbs no thicker than threads of cotton and play and generally behave like a girl. The birth of Northside League led to a game style so harsh and vicious that only true men could attempt to play, or even reach the arena through the wilderness of Bestwood. Should you wish to visit the spiritual home of gym hockey, William Olds Arena in Bestwood, make contact with the UN Peacekeeping Force who are stationed around the shops at the top of the road. They will be only too happy to escort you through the war zone to the famous arena where so many battles took place all those years ago. They will even provide a bullet proof vest and small side arm to make your visit as safe as possible.
Rumor has it that some old Bestwood players still living rough in the old youth club at the side of the arena, always with one ear cocked, listening for the day when groups of men would wander down the dirt path again on a Friday evening, sticks rattling and bodies stinking with bizarre and totally inadequate sweat soaked padding strapped randomly, to launch themselves into a medieval type combat in an arena only slightly less dangerous than that inhabited by Roman Gladiators and Jonathon, from Rollerball.
What makes gym hockey fun is the danger that exists in the game. What made gym hockey at Northside fun was the added level of danger contributed by the arena of play and locality. A typical evening would see players arrive and nervously park their shiny Capri Ghia's on the gravelly road outside the youth club. There were never any 'Watch your car for a quid mister' comments here, if the car was wanted it would be gone in 60 seconds and in a container bound for Warsaw within 20 minutes, the enterprising young scamp behind the ruse walking off down to the local chippy with pockets stuffed full of used notes to impress some local Doris, already well gone on half a bottle of Thunderbird. Battered sausage for you tonight my dear, Daddy has brought home the bacon.
Once parked the traditional running of the gauntlet would take place. The inevitable local Coventry fan population standing outside the youth club would see the carried sticks and pads and ask such insightful questions as 'you playing hockey'? or 'giz a go on ya stick'. The ladies present would always find a way to add sexual innuendo to the fact you were carrying something long and hard. If the local heroes Bestwood Destroyers (or Bestwood Destroyed as they were fondly known as after some of their heavier defeats) were playing that evening the excitement was always thicker in the air, the assembled masses would usually have dressed for the occasion with best Farrahs and an extra gold chain and perhaps a ring. The atmosphere would be a little more violent as the crowd tried to unnerve the opposition as they entered the arena, jovial taunts of 'I'll effin stab you' and 'I know where you live' were expertly delivered to opposing teams in order to knock their concentration and allow Bestwood to have a fighting chance at only losing by 20.
Local apprentice butcher and haslet king Stu Severn always created a ripple of excitement when he arrived. Like his slightly less effective strike partner Reynolds, Severn always prepared for a game in true Northside fashion. Several cans of strong larger and half a pack of Bensons primed this young athlete. Unlike Reynolds however Severn could actually play and was good. In fact to this day he remains the only ever Destroyer to make it big time with a lucrative contract when he joined the Bestwood Bruins (See Bestwood Bruins the Players and Portland Years) where he was hugely effective for many years, when not suspended.
Games always started late, in fact some games never started at all. Fans from the day will remember warmly the tactics employed by the Bruins in the last season of hockey played. If the game was lost on paper by more than 5, Bruins went to the pub, thus giving the opponents a 5-0 victory, a tactic which helped keep the goal difference more respectable against Willowbrook. Standing in the old arena now, if you close your eyes you can almost hear the rumble of the landing of feet and bottom lip quivering as certain Warriors spat the dummy and threw countless toys from the pram when learning their beloved team would not be able to rack up a hatful that night as the opponents in their undoubted wisdom decided a night nursing Ayingerbrau and Labatts was far more inviting than nursing puck, stick and board wounds.
The late games were usually the result of the local trainee scrap merchant dealers wrecking the nets and goals which were stored conveniently in the corner of the arena. Each week refs and Pete Moss would spend countless minutes re-threading nets, always being careful to leave a hole just big enough for Willowbrook forwards to slip a crafty shot in through the side. This repair activity, involving strong twine was always made easier by the ample supply of tools to cut off excess binding material. The current UK knife amnesty would pale into insignificance at the resulting offering following a simple, ‘anyone got a knife’? question asked by the ref. The fan base obviously eager to see the games start would always come well prepared for such needs of the officials. Indeed a wide choice of blade seemed to make the work less tedious, if not a little frightening.
Once underway the crowds were subject to a real treat. The action was always close, not in the way of score line, but in the way of being only a foot or two away. One player’s girlfriend to this day still has COOPER embossed on her forehead after copping an errant puck clearance during a game. The makeshift kit was always the cause of much entertainment. In particular netminders who often wore creative body armor made from football shin pads, typewriter mats and carpet underlay were always quick to innovate, money must have been tight as the 50 pence a week subs would have hardly dented the budget of the average player.
Whilst most games and seasons have merged into one glorious memory there are a few individual nights and events that are worthy of note, these include;
Burns Night Celebration – Not the recognition of the hugely talented Scot’s work, but the Guy Fawkes night games which were punctuated by ambulance sirens when someone was pushed into the bonfire at the youth club firework show.
Night of the Continual Thunder – Not an epic hard fought game but the evening when the local kids realized that they could lob boulders onto the pitched roof of the arena and the resulting roll down to the floor would create an awful racket. Games as usual played on during this distraction.
The Night the Lights Went Out – Again a night courtesy of the local scallys. The mains switch to the arena lighting was located by some bright young potential housebreaker. The lights were conveniently extinguished uncannily as each slapshot was taken, it was very well timed for shooters, not so for netminders.
The Night The League Became Great – Why? was it the coming together of many to play great sport? The recognition of peers around the globe? No, it was in the ability to adopt any tedious rule from professional sports to make the league officials look like they were more important than they were. The incident in question. Rob Clayton’s attempt to play in the President’s Cup Final for Arnold thwarted as he was ‘Cup-Tied” . This obviously was covered on News at 10 and questions asked in both Houses of Parliament.
The Trade to Rival Gretzky to LA – Chris Welbourne to Eastwood. Who would have thought it! Orca was not a Happy Bunny.
The Great Mystery of Northside – How did anyone not get killed?
© Patrick Kagool 2006
Patrick lives alone on a small isolated peat farm just outside of Macclesfield. His expert and uncanny writings about the Nottingham Gym Hockey scene have won him rave reviews from sports writers around the local area. He owns a Robin Reliant and a small lizard with a diseased tail.
Other writings by Patrick on this fascinating area include
I Can’t Bwweeeve – A study into the perils of netminding at Northside.
Skin Tight and Dodgy – The history of the Arnold Aztecs Uniform
I Can’t Get in for The Face Off, His Belly is in the Way - Was obesity such a problem in the Northside League?
Battle of Portland – A broomstick tooled up merry go round of mistaken identities and lager fueled bravado. Subtitled - Scorpians ran away from drunk man who burst onto court with half a broon handle.
Patrick Kagool
Little has been documented about the roots of gym hockey in Nottingham, It has a long standing tradition and rich history. Many have argued as to the true birthplace and whilst there are recorded instances of gym hockey being played in some areas expert historians chart the birth and rise of gym hockey to the William Olds Boys Club Arena in Bestwood as the true founding cornerstone. Other leagues that occurred before this 1986 beginning had bizarre rules that participants must have limbs no thicker than threads of cotton and play and generally behave like a girl. The birth of Northside League led to a game style so harsh and vicious that only true men could attempt to play, or even reach the arena through the wilderness of Bestwood. Should you wish to visit the spiritual home of gym hockey, William Olds Arena in Bestwood, make contact with the UN Peacekeeping Force who are stationed around the shops at the top of the road. They will be only too happy to escort you through the war zone to the famous arena where so many battles took place all those years ago. They will even provide a bullet proof vest and small side arm to make your visit as safe as possible.
Rumor has it that some old Bestwood players still living rough in the old youth club at the side of the arena, always with one ear cocked, listening for the day when groups of men would wander down the dirt path again on a Friday evening, sticks rattling and bodies stinking with bizarre and totally inadequate sweat soaked padding strapped randomly, to launch themselves into a medieval type combat in an arena only slightly less dangerous than that inhabited by Roman Gladiators and Jonathon, from Rollerball.
What makes gym hockey fun is the danger that exists in the game. What made gym hockey at Northside fun was the added level of danger contributed by the arena of play and locality. A typical evening would see players arrive and nervously park their shiny Capri Ghia's on the gravelly road outside the youth club. There were never any 'Watch your car for a quid mister' comments here, if the car was wanted it would be gone in 60 seconds and in a container bound for Warsaw within 20 minutes, the enterprising young scamp behind the ruse walking off down to the local chippy with pockets stuffed full of used notes to impress some local Doris, already well gone on half a bottle of Thunderbird. Battered sausage for you tonight my dear, Daddy has brought home the bacon.
Once parked the traditional running of the gauntlet would take place. The inevitable local Coventry fan population standing outside the youth club would see the carried sticks and pads and ask such insightful questions as 'you playing hockey'? or 'giz a go on ya stick'. The ladies present would always find a way to add sexual innuendo to the fact you were carrying something long and hard. If the local heroes Bestwood Destroyers (or Bestwood Destroyed as they were fondly known as after some of their heavier defeats) were playing that evening the excitement was always thicker in the air, the assembled masses would usually have dressed for the occasion with best Farrahs and an extra gold chain and perhaps a ring. The atmosphere would be a little more violent as the crowd tried to unnerve the opposition as they entered the arena, jovial taunts of 'I'll effin stab you' and 'I know where you live' were expertly delivered to opposing teams in order to knock their concentration and allow Bestwood to have a fighting chance at only losing by 20.
Local apprentice butcher and haslet king Stu Severn always created a ripple of excitement when he arrived. Like his slightly less effective strike partner Reynolds, Severn always prepared for a game in true Northside fashion. Several cans of strong larger and half a pack of Bensons primed this young athlete. Unlike Reynolds however Severn could actually play and was good. In fact to this day he remains the only ever Destroyer to make it big time with a lucrative contract when he joined the Bestwood Bruins (See Bestwood Bruins the Players and Portland Years) where he was hugely effective for many years, when not suspended.
Games always started late, in fact some games never started at all. Fans from the day will remember warmly the tactics employed by the Bruins in the last season of hockey played. If the game was lost on paper by more than 5, Bruins went to the pub, thus giving the opponents a 5-0 victory, a tactic which helped keep the goal difference more respectable against Willowbrook. Standing in the old arena now, if you close your eyes you can almost hear the rumble of the landing of feet and bottom lip quivering as certain Warriors spat the dummy and threw countless toys from the pram when learning their beloved team would not be able to rack up a hatful that night as the opponents in their undoubted wisdom decided a night nursing Ayingerbrau and Labatts was far more inviting than nursing puck, stick and board wounds.
The late games were usually the result of the local trainee scrap merchant dealers wrecking the nets and goals which were stored conveniently in the corner of the arena. Each week refs and Pete Moss would spend countless minutes re-threading nets, always being careful to leave a hole just big enough for Willowbrook forwards to slip a crafty shot in through the side. This repair activity, involving strong twine was always made easier by the ample supply of tools to cut off excess binding material. The current UK knife amnesty would pale into insignificance at the resulting offering following a simple, ‘anyone got a knife’? question asked by the ref. The fan base obviously eager to see the games start would always come well prepared for such needs of the officials. Indeed a wide choice of blade seemed to make the work less tedious, if not a little frightening.
Once underway the crowds were subject to a real treat. The action was always close, not in the way of score line, but in the way of being only a foot or two away. One player’s girlfriend to this day still has COOPER embossed on her forehead after copping an errant puck clearance during a game. The makeshift kit was always the cause of much entertainment. In particular netminders who often wore creative body armor made from football shin pads, typewriter mats and carpet underlay were always quick to innovate, money must have been tight as the 50 pence a week subs would have hardly dented the budget of the average player.
Whilst most games and seasons have merged into one glorious memory there are a few individual nights and events that are worthy of note, these include;
Burns Night Celebration – Not the recognition of the hugely talented Scot’s work, but the Guy Fawkes night games which were punctuated by ambulance sirens when someone was pushed into the bonfire at the youth club firework show.
Night of the Continual Thunder – Not an epic hard fought game but the evening when the local kids realized that they could lob boulders onto the pitched roof of the arena and the resulting roll down to the floor would create an awful racket. Games as usual played on during this distraction.
The Night the Lights Went Out – Again a night courtesy of the local scallys. The mains switch to the arena lighting was located by some bright young potential housebreaker. The lights were conveniently extinguished uncannily as each slapshot was taken, it was very well timed for shooters, not so for netminders.
The Night The League Became Great – Why? was it the coming together of many to play great sport? The recognition of peers around the globe? No, it was in the ability to adopt any tedious rule from professional sports to make the league officials look like they were more important than they were. The incident in question. Rob Clayton’s attempt to play in the President’s Cup Final for Arnold thwarted as he was ‘Cup-Tied” . This obviously was covered on News at 10 and questions asked in both Houses of Parliament.
The Trade to Rival Gretzky to LA – Chris Welbourne to Eastwood. Who would have thought it! Orca was not a Happy Bunny.
The Great Mystery of Northside – How did anyone not get killed?
© Patrick Kagool 2006
Patrick lives alone on a small isolated peat farm just outside of Macclesfield. His expert and uncanny writings about the Nottingham Gym Hockey scene have won him rave reviews from sports writers around the local area. He owns a Robin Reliant and a small lizard with a diseased tail.
Other writings by Patrick on this fascinating area include
I Can’t Bwweeeve – A study into the perils of netminding at Northside.
Skin Tight and Dodgy – The history of the Arnold Aztecs Uniform
I Can’t Get in for The Face Off, His Belly is in the Way - Was obesity such a problem in the Northside League?
Battle of Portland – A broomstick tooled up merry go round of mistaken identities and lager fueled bravado. Subtitled - Scorpians ran away from drunk man who burst onto court with half a broon handle.