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female hockey fans Category

Sunday, March 8th, 2009

The end is nigh: Boston II (Day 1)

The following events took place on March 2nd, 2009

Hockey related mishaps are at the top of the list of things that cause my blood to boil. Forget NASCAR! If you want to see some driving, then put me behind the wheel of a car ten minutes before warm up! This time around, my ticket for the Flyers/Bruins game got lost in the mail! Another lazy postman and/or neighbour incident. Once, my ticket didn’t show up for a game in Ottawa simply because the courier didn’t feel like delivering it. Luckily, I argued my way into the seats, but I couldn’t allow that postman to keep his job working on my street now could I? Apparently, the current postman is a piece of work, as are my neighbours (who have held onto our parcels for six months before delivering them).

Everything that could have gone wrong on my way to Boston on Monday did go wrong. Murphy’s Law. To start off the day I was fully searched at the border – twice! I was searched on misogynistic grounds that women A) can’t be sports fans, B) can’t be self-reliant, and C) can’t do things without a man. You can imagine how hard it was for me to hold my tongue and be pleasant while they attempted to find the drugs I had smuggled in the car. Apparently, I can’t have a life if I don’t have a boyfriend, that’s nice. Should I join a convent? P.S. US Border Security, nice job profiling. I’ve never even smoked a cigarette in my life! I had forgotten there were about seven or eight copies of my book in the trunk of the car. Yeah, women don’t understand/like sports, hmmm? A bunch of young border guys started coming in the room, and saying “hiiiiiiiii” with knowing, 15 year old, hard-on smiles – did you enjoy riffling through my panties?

Anyway, once I was released, I went on my way to the Buffalo-Niagara International Airport. Upon arrival, I discovered that my flight was canceled, and that there was NO WAY that I was getting out that day. Another ticket agent said there was a later flight, but nothing was guaranteed to get out. I told her to put me on the flight, but as I went through security, I met a heinous bimbo with something up her ass. Apparently, she felt there were too many liquids/gels in my zip lock bag, even though it was the EXACT SAME grimy bag I used to go to Philly the week before, and Boston two weeks before that! I took that as a sign to get the fuck out of there. If by 3PM I was still in Buffalo, and my flight didn’t get out, I’d be very limited as to how I would get to Boston.

I went downstairs to the car rental place and Budget told me they had “trip cars.” (Cars you drive one-way and leave at another airport). By 11AM (my flight was supposed to leave at 11:40AM), I was in the new car, GPS in tow, and headed out on my way to Boston. I drove through a blizzard the whole fucking way. Mother Nature was being a bitch to me in more ways than one. I wondered at times if I was going to survive. I felt like I was going into battle against an army of thousands knowing completely that I would die. I had been warned at the airport not to go near Boston; that the blizzard they were having was really awful, but I knew I had to get there, and it had to be that night! I left all my music in my car in Buffalo, so all I had was the radio. That song, Living on the Edge by Aerosmith came on three times. Apparently, they were playing it in honour of the Boston blizzard.

I finally pulled off to get gas somewhere far East on the I-90. The number the ticket agent in Buffalo gave me to cancel my flight was wrong. I was pissed. No refund. I realized that I hadn’t eaten anything except an energy drink since 7PM the night before. I was fried, but I wasn’t hungry. I just had to get where I was going, and that was the focus. I drove the whole way with a crazed look in my eye, and my back was sore from being so tense. About fifty miles outside of Boston, the lack of sleep/food/excess hormones finally set in and I hit bottom. Dido’s White Flag came on the radio, and I knew that would do it. I kept thinking to myself, “Katrina, just hold on, you’re almost there!” But it was too late. Emotional breakdown #1.

I knew it was over. If you’ve been reading my blog, you’ll know that I’ve been looking for a new team. Philly didn’t feel right anymore. After this harrowing experience, I knew that my Philly days were numbered, and that Tuesday’s game might be the last one I go to. I was upset. I didn’t know what I was doing anymore.

My cab from the Boston airport pulled up to my hotel around 6:30PM. I was supposed to be in Boston at 1PM! To make matters worse, that second flight did go out on schedule, and I would have arrived at 4PM! Some of the Flyers were congregating in the lobby for dinner when I got there. Boy, I could have bitten every single one of their heads off after the day I had. They seemed to be eaves dropping on my check in at the front desk. I’m sure they have all been wondering where I was actually from, now they knew. The hotel staff asked me if I was here on business, to which I replied “sort of!” Of course I meant “sort of” as in “research,” but how bad did that sound?!

I went up to my room to freshen up before I attempted to eat something. After going 24 hours without food, all I could stomach was half a salad and some sangria! I told the hotel staff not to let me leave the lobby until I finished reading the book that I had wanted to get out of the way that day, but couldn’t as I lost the entire day to travel. Somehow I managed to read through the drunkenness, and tiredness, and congregating Flyers and plow through the hundred pages I needed to finish in just over an hour. Not sure how I did it, but I did.

Finally, alone in my room, I started to question my future with the Flyers as my favourite team. Not even the comfort of a bubble bath could help. I feared that all the terrible situations and circumstances I encountered that day were sure signs that the end was nigh. Later that night, I cried myself to sleep because that was all I had left. (Emotional breakdown #2).

Thursday, February 26th, 2009

Women love hockey fights? No kidding (sarcasm).


In light of the recent Garrett Klotz incident that has sparked debate about fighting in the future of hockey, the FAN590 released a statistic showing that the most popular demographic for the enjoyment of fisticuffs is female spectators between the ages of eighteen and thirty. Apparently, this wasn’t an obvious fact?

It seems the hockey fan majority, the men, seem to think that the rough stuff can only be fully appreciated by a y-chromosome and excessive amounts of Testosterone. I remember back in my WWE days, grades seven through nine, I could not understand why it was the guys in my class that liked wrestling. Let’s see, wrestling entails a bunch of big men, greased up, jumping on each other while wearing speedos…hmm. Can someone please tell me what the guys are getting out of that? It’s the same thing with UFC, though I have to admit there is nothing more unattractive than two men kicking each other (unless, of course, it’s Chuck Norris delivering a clean round house to the face!). So, when a bunch of hockey stars start sweating, and shoving, and punching with chests heaving, is it really that surprising that the women are the first ones to jump out of their seats, panties in fist?

Perhaps the shock generated among men from the release of this statistic is just more evidence that they really don’t understand women. First of all, women go crazy for violence and brutality, but there is obviously a time and a place, and a grungy speakeasy after fifteen beers is not it. The hockey rink provides a safe haven for the players to demonstrate their masculinity and brute strength without ending up on an embarrassing episode of Cops.

Women also use the fights as a way to enhance their sexual fantasies about the players. He’s a beast on the ice, but ever so tender with her in the boudoir – sound familiar, ladies? Or for some: rough on the ice, rough in bed. Either way – HOT. Not to mention that the number one puck bunny fantasy is to witness two players fighting over her in combat – seems almost medieval and romantic, doesn’t it? Sure, women may say they don’t like to date men who are prone to jealousy, but, like I said, there is a time and a place for everything. And let’s not forget what other female instinct is activated during these brawls –the maternal nurturer. If the player gets injured in battle, the tendency is to want to take care of him and nurse him back to health. Once healthy, he will be so grateful that he’d have no choice but to marry her on the spot – duh!

Also, from a more practical standpoint, hockey fights provide a way for the puck bunnies (that have not really learned the rules yet) to engage in the game. There are really only two events in hockey that cue the puck bunny for a reaction. The first is a goal, and the second is a fight. Of course, puck bunnies are predominately concerned with how they are being perceived during the game, so naturally they will jump on anything (that’s what she said) to show that they understand what’s going on.

So, for all you men out there that were surprised that it was the female fans that were going crazy for hockey violence, I hope that I have opened your eyes to the truth. Disclaimer: fighting and violence should not be used as a way to win the heart of a lady hockey fan if you are not playing hockey. Don’t try this at home.

Saturday, February 14th, 2009

Top 10 reasons to be a single gal-fan on Valentine’s Day!


Because everyone loves a good Top 10 list, and because if I do another “romance on the road” entry, people are going to start to think I’m a skank! Happy Valentine’s Day!

# 10 Too Much Puck: there are nine NHL games scheduled for V-day in such a way that the love starved could conceivably watch four full games between lunch and bedtime! So veg out on the couch, bust out the Ben and Jerry’s, and stay there all day. I suggest: Iles@Flyers (1 PM), Oil@Kings (4 PM), Caps@Bolts (7:30 PM), and Flames@Coyotes (10 PM). I might just order some Mexican take out for two (for one) and do this myself!

#9 Kiss Cam Overload:
the Kiss Cam will be earning time and a half at all of the active rinks today! While watching all the happy couples smooching may make you wish that you had something in your purse sharp enough to slit your wrists with (blasted security bag checkers!), have no fear! Lean into the cute boy sitting on your left and trick the cameraman into thinking you’re together. Once the camera is on you, you’re golden. He can’t wuss out in front of his buddies – SCORE!! It’s happened to me, it can happen to you!

#8 Warm Up: groin stretches…enough said!

#7 Five for Fighting: tired of the excessive amount of couples around the rink today rubbing it in your face that they are getting some and you aren’t? Well flaunt your sex right back at them! Pretend you’re at the Golden Banana and go rabid for those hockey fights! Annoying people is fun!

#6 Man-Fans: who needs eHarmony, find out what it feels like to be matched based on REAL compatibility on the grounds of like hockey fandom! Scour the rink and/or sports bar for a dashing young man sporting your team colours! Or, if you are of the attitude that opposites attract, then keep an eye out for enemy uniforms. Aww, think of all the hockey related teasing that will ensue! I’m picturing erotic tickle fights and scandalous game day wagers!

#5 The Following Coach Dilves:
Guy Carbonneau, Craig MacTavish, Paul Maurice, and John Stevens. They give the bench that extra something-something. Raaaaaawwwwwr!

#4 Penalty Box Seats:
for those of you lucky enough to have tickets to one of the V-day games, specifically in seats overlooking or next to the sin bin, then have a couple drinks and find out how funny it is to greet every penalized player with, “You’ve been a baaaaad boooooy!” (A shoulder shake is required when saying this!)

#3 Beer:
for those of you who would much rather wallow in self-pity over being single on yet another Valentine’s Day, isn’t it convenient that beer and hockey go hand and hand? Have a few extra. No one will notice. Drink ‘til he’s hot! Disclaimer: the preceding activity should not be attempted by any patrons of the Air Canada Centre wishing to avoid bankruptcy!

#2 Body Checks: the players are violently pushing each other’s bodies against the boards – it’s not hard to picture naked. No…thank YOU!

#1 Single Hockey Players: the very definition of hope. (Damn you, Carrie Underwood!)

*For the record, I did not photoshop the above picture. I found it floating around MySpace, and thought it was hilarious!

Friday, February 13th, 2009

This is why you don’t get into cars with strange boys.


Once more, in keeping with the spirit of Valentine’s Day, today’s entry will look at a tale of love gone wrong on the road.

My recent trip to Columbus was doomed from the start. After receiving a cancellation from my friend (who’s boss threatened to fire her for even dreaming of taking Boxing Day off), I was at a loss to find a replacement so last minute, and at the height of the holiday season. I’ve realized now that in a lot of the American markets, it is very difficult to sell extra tickets. It’s not like Toronto wherein the worst seats will still induce heated bidding wars! So, I decided to brainstorm the best way to make use of this extra seat. I was feeling amorous, so the most enticing idea was to find and lure a hot boy that would otherwise be way out of my league at home and take him to the game. I was on a mission!

And that mission was surprisingly easy! My biggest fear was that Columbus would be a bit of a dog park (like certain other destinations that shall remain nameless), but low and behold, my waiter at dinner was definite eye candy. He had one of those movie star smiles. So, I asked him out (in a roundabout way) to hang out after his shift. He told me his shift ended at midnight, and I agreed to meet him back there at that time. However, just as I was leaving he dropped a major bomb that I should have taken as a clue to walk away and not come back. He referred to himself as a student, which seemed fine at first, but then I realized that “students” everywhere but U of T are no older than 21! He was a baby!!

I went back to my room to check in on the Flyers/Blackhawks game that was in progress in Chicago and had a bit of a laugh over their travelling problems that day *tee hee* – welcome to my world, boys! Anyway, so the clock struck midnight and I went back to junior’s place of employment. He wasn’t alone now. His “ride” also known as his “housemate” was there (who was also cute). Apparently, this favourite bar of his was actually close to their house, which was not walking distance from there – I kept forgetting that four miles wasn’t the same as four kilometres!

So, now I’m getting into a car with two strange boys that I don’t know. You know those girls that turn up murdered because they were hitchhiking and got picked up by strange men. Yeah, that would be me. During this five minute car ride, both boys felt that they should partake in a couple beers and a bit of the wacky tobaccy! Yes, they couldn’t wait five minutes until they got home! Luckily, the window was open and my hair didn’t get ruined. My whole hockey life started to flash before my eyes. I knew all too well what would happen to me if these guys were to get pulled over!

I was out for dinner the night before one of the Flyers games in Toronto last season. There was this odd couple sitting next to us. The woman was one of those sweet-looking, closeted little things, and the guy was this big grotesque beast that was trying to splash his money around as a way to come off as a total high roller. His conversation turned to his love for New York City (big surprise), to which the woman began the harrowing story behind her inability to legally enter the States. Apparently, on a road trip with friends (by the way, the tables were really close together I wasn’t trying to eaves drop), a routine car search turned ugly when one of the passengers was revealed to be carrying a “thumbnail” size amount of hash. All of the passengers were banned from crossing the border. Much to the distress of her (clearly) lavalife date, he wouldn’t be able to further his big pimpin’ spree by offering to show her the bright lights of Broadway from the comfort of his private jet.

From the back seat of the only car I have ever seen dirtier than mine, this story began to play back in my mind over and over and over again. I wasn’t worried so much about prison; my major concern was the status of my passport! What would I, the psycho hockey addict, do if I couldn’t cross the border on a biweekly basis? I wouldn’t even be able to go to hockey games in Buffalo! I’d be limited to six regular season Flyers games a year! That’s just unacceptable. I would die a thousand slow painful deaths! I started examining the handles on the door of the car trying to formulate some type of escape tactic, but then the vehicle came to a halt and we were home safe. Well safe enough. I still had to deal with the two infants.

Their house was like every frat house I have ever seen (except Delta Upsilon –Toronto), and this alleged awesome bar was totally dead! After playing a couple courtesy rounds of pool (which revealed all kinds of horrific truths, such as, “I was born in 1987!” – he was a “hockey player” too, by the way), I made my escape. It wasn’t easy they were trying to lure me with promises of golfing (real golfing) the next day, and I got that extremely close lean in that guys do that is practically impossible to resist. Ahh! Hockey…must…think…hockey. I couldn’t run the risk of travelling around in a car with open booze and narcotics, so I got in my cab (after declining the offer to crash at their place where an inevitable gang bang would have ensued) and headed back to my hotel – alone.

The next day, I sold my extra ticket to a scalper for a measly twenty bucks! I was told if I didn’t like that to “call my husband!” Anyway, after the Flyers had their asses handed to them by the Blue Jackets, I headed out for a walk down High Street. About three blocks away from the Arena District, High St. becomes really shady, like Market and 22nd (Philadelphia) shady. Every guy I passed was trying to pick me up in a way that came across as menacing. Finally I decided to turn around and head home before I started flipping off every car that stopped to talk to me. While I was waiting for the lights to change, another guy stopped because he wanted to take me out. (I’m sorry but do girls ever say yes to these guys?) I told him I wasn’t from there, and he said “Yeah, your accent sounds Russian or something.” Uhhh, you mean, Canadian?

Back at my hotel room I pranced around in my underwear feeling sorry for myself that I was the only one who got to see it. The next day I went home to start the countdown to my next adventure.

Tuesday, February 3rd, 2009

Hockey fan or puck bunny? The answer is skin deep.


Every female hockey fan has been mislabeled with this epithet at some point or another. Many find themselves wrestling with the term for the majority of their young lives. So why are some women regarded as puck bunnies while others are not? I have personally been on a mission to get to the bottom of this conundrum for the last eight years of my life. Finally, at eighteen, I produced a book which I had hoped would answer the question, but even now I feel that it has only begun to crack the surface of the puck bunny realm. In university, I went on to write linguistic and semiotic anthropology papers on the use of ‘puck bunny’ in language. This process shifted my focus from the what, the why, and the who, to the how. How are puck bunnies identified and perceived in the public sphere? Today I will try, once again, to shed new light on the subject.

One of the first problematic variables in deciphering this equation is the fact that a black and white definition of ‘puck bunny’ just doesn’t exist. To the vast majority of society, a puck bunny is simply a girl who is not interested in the game of hockey, but follows it, regardless, for less admirable reasons. The assumption is not necessarily that this puck bunny gets involved with the players, but that she does not have the capacity to understand sports and is, thus, at the arena because she either A)wants to look like she knows sports to be more appealing to men, or B) thinks the players are cute. It is a commonly held sexist viewpoint that women don’t know sports. “Don’t know” meaning “can’t know.” I don’t know how many times men have tried to talk over my head about sports to my male companions who were completely sports illiterate. It is infuriating! I’m also sure part of this misogyny is rooted in jealousy that women have the chance to experience hockey players on a more intimate level. Of course, then there are those that assume ‘puck bunny’ is the girl that “gets with” the players, or, in the very least, tries.

Self-proclaimed puck bunnies have different standards outlined in their definitions. While I was researching my book, I discovered that ‘puck bunny’ didn’t really exist as a singular entity. I uncovered nearly twenty different varieties of puck bunnies – some were guys! I now regard ‘puck bunny’ as a spectrum with two very definite extremes. The first extreme can only be described as (commonly) young girls that follow the game intensely because they have innocent crushes on the players. It is unfair to say that any puck bunny is not a sincere fan of the game. Chances are they spend more time, money and energy on the game than the average man-fan. Anyway, besides the odd attempt to get their pictures taken with the players of their choosing, these bunnies do not seriously seek a greater relationship with them.

The other extreme is home to the dirty puck bunnies. Once again, this is an EXTREME, not a set definition. These are the women that seek sexual relationships with any and every player. Although, you might be looking for these girls at the rink, truthfully they do the most damage away from the game. These are the “party girls” that go to the same bars and clubs as all the players with the hopes of getting free drinks and the chance to check another player off of their hit list. While this puck bunny claims that she is a wild child and that she can do the deed with no strings attached, she is quite often scorned when her physical relationships do not turn romantic. Essentially, these are the girls that daddy didn’t love.

Both extremes deny the authenticity of the other. The “nice” extreme claims that puck bunnies are girls that just admire the players from afar. They describe the other group as a “bunch of whores.” The “angry” extreme claims that one can’t be a real puck bunny without a track record to back it up. They often chastise the other end of the spectrum for being “little girls.”

So this is all well and good on an inner level, but on an external level all bets are off. Self-proclaimed puck bunnies and non-puck bunnies have the same difficulty with misrepresentation. Puck bunnyness has superficial tags associated with the title. These tags extend well beyond the simplistic, such as the presence or the absence of a hockey jersey or big floppy ears. ‘Puck bunny’ carries with it assumptions of age, gender, race, weight, and physical attractiveness. If I asked you to picture an NHL level puck bunny chances are you’ve immediately imagined a thin, attractive, woman in her early twenties. In your mental image, is the woman blonde? Chances are she is. Let me ask you another question, is she white? Part of this psychological association has to do with the use of ‘bunny.’ Immediately, one associates ‘bunny’ with the Playboy Corporation, and so, bleach blonde stripper-esque models are the poster children for the entirety of this group.

So unattractive puck bunnies are able to maneuver around the hockey rink without being detected, while attractive hockey fans are being ridiculed – doesn’t seem fair, does it? Often stupidity is associated with physical beauty, and so women, who already have a disadvantage at being taken seriously in sports, jobs, society in general, are burdened even more by being aesthetically appealing.

A friend of mine, who is also a hockey player, had joined a facebook hate group against women that didn’t wear hockey gear at hockey games. This group, which was run by a pair of overweight, glittery make up wearing teens, claimed that female hockey fans weren’t real fans if they wore a “nice shirt” and, essentially, if they weren’t ugly. Tell that to all the corporate clientele that pass through the Air Canada Centre. If women aren’t allowed to wear “nice shirts,” then certainly men should be forbidden to wear suits! Naturally, I had to ream my friend out for joining that group. I gave him the standard, “so I have to put a bag over my head, get fat, and spill mustard all over myself before I step foot in a hockey rink?” He left the group immediately.

Which brings me to the last question, “What do hockey players think of puck bunnies?” What I have come to understand is that hockey players generally regard puck bunnies as a bad thing. Even though, it takes two to tango, if you get my drift. Hockey players only reserve the term for women that have fallen out of favour with them. As long as he wants you, you’re not a puck bunny. Hockey players in general are idiots about women. They date women that “don’t like hockey” because they believe that women that do like it are just using them for their money – because hockey fans are the only people that know how much hockey players make, right? Too many pucks to the head.

    • Amy: Well said, nicely done. I agree wholeheartedly wi...
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    • Next Game

      Currently on assignment in Japan until the 2012-13 hockey season.

    • NHL Rinks Stalked

      [47] Air Canada Centre
      [08] Wells Fargo Center
      [06] First Niagara Center
      [05] Scotiabank Place
      [05] Joe Louis Arena
      [04] Prudential Center
      [03] TD Banknorth Garden
      [03] Honda Center
      [02] Xcel Energy Center
      [02] Tampa Bay Times Forum
      [02] Pepsi Center
      [02] Nassau Coliseum
      [02] Bell Centre
      [01] Verizon Center
      [01] United Center
      [01] Staples Center
      [01] Scottrade Center
      [01] PNC Arena
      [01] Nationwide Arena
      [01] Madison Square Garden
      [01] Jobing.com Arena
      [01] HP Pavilion
      [01] CONSOL Energy Center
      [01] Bridgestone Arena
      [01] BankAtlantic Center
      [01] American Airlines Center
      [02] Mellon Arena*
      [01] Maple Leaf Gardens*
      *Indicates Inactive Facility

    • OHL Rinks Stalked

      [28] Kitchener Auditorium
      [10] Hershey Centre
      [09] Gatorade Complex
      [08] Sleeman Centre
      [03] John Labatt Centre
      [02] Powerade Centre
      [02] GM Centre
      [01] Yardmen Arena
      [01] WFCU Centre
      [01] RBC Centre
      [01] K-Rock Centre
      [01] J. Benson Cartage Centre
      [01] Bayshore Arena
      [01] Barrie Molson Centre
      [41] St. Michael's Arena*
      [01] London Ice House*
      *Indicates Inactive Facility

    • AHL Rinks Stalked

      [64] Ricoh Coliseum
      [08] Van Andel Arena
      [08] Copps Coliseum
      [05] Bradley Center
      [04] Quicken Loans Arena
      [02] Scope Arena
      [01] AT&T Center
      [01] Allstate Arena
      [01] Cincinnati Gardens*
      *Indicates Inactive Facility

    • Other Rinks Stalked

      [03] Yokohama Skate Center
      [02] Arena Zurich-Kloten
      [01] U of T Varisty Arena
      [01] Nikko Kirifuri Ice Arena
      [01] Anyang Sports Complex

    • Game Stats (League)

      [320] Total Games
      [109] NHL
      [109] OHL
      [094] AHL
      [005] ALIH
      [002] IIHF
      [001] OUA

    • Game Stats (Country)

      [320] Total Games
      [239] Canada
      [074] United States
      [004] Japan
      [002] Switzerland
      [001] South Korea

    • Game Log
      • @FleurDeMar You knew there'd have to be a flaw somewhere LOL At least it's in his throat and not in his... you know... pants... ;) #Gasp 9 hours ago
      • Just heard David Beckham's voice for the first time... Noooooooo!!! That killed it!! :( Oh well! At least he doesn't laugh like Spezza... +1 9 hours ago
      • Bipedal organisms were not built to scrub Japanese bathtubs... There! I've said it! #TubIsLove 10 hours ago
    • New Book
      Hey, hockey fans! I am writing a new book and looking for American and Canadian hockey fans to send me a quick email telling me why they go crazy for hockey. Email me! I look forward to hearing from you!
    • Down the Rabbit Hole: A Guide to Puck Bunnies (2004)
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