New York, NY The funny thing about New York City is that I always forget where I am when I’m here. It just feels like I’m at home. In fact, I hang out with my New York based friends a lot more than I do with my friends back home in Toronto! My first day back in Manhattan (in the last two weeks) was yet another full day. Unfortunately, I was running on no sleep and my mother decided that we had to go to The Met that morning. Gross. Did I mention that we had a 5:50AM flight in? Yeah, not good. I was pretty much dead, and couldn’t find a Rockstar energy drink if my life depended on it. I don’t know how many times I nearly fell asleep in various cabs.
When I was finally able to escape from the museum, I was headed to the NHL store to meet up with Michelle for pre-dinner drinks! Sadly, the Hartford Whalers sweatshirt I was dying to buy looked shitty on me! I was terribly sad. The sweater was cut like a box, and frankly I don’t want to look like a man when I wear…anything. It’s too bad, I was envisioning myself running around Korea with it on – those dreams are all gone now.
Michelle and I met up with Nick for Moroccan after the strongest Mudslide I’ve ever had – pure rum! The food was amazing, but I forget the name of the place due to the aforementioned rum and tiredness. From nine to midnight there was a belly dancer performing, and I got to make my first two forays into the belly dancing world for all restaurant patrons to see, and all the people that saw Michelle’s twitpics, too! Now I have a new belly dancing skirt that jingles when I shimmy down the street (did you know that I shimmy when I do anything?), as all the people walking down 43rd that night found out. Pretty sure I looked like one of those crazy people with my lime green skirt and pink mittens! The skirt is my new favourite thing!
Post belly dancing and spicy Moroccan food, we all decided to check out another hockey bar. You remember my Warren 77 excursion two weeks ago. Anyway, we decided to check out The Flying Puck after Nick and Michelle refused to take me to the rippers. By the way, is “rippers” a Canadian term because neither of them seemed to know what I was talking about? If it IS Canadian, then I should probably explain that by “rippers” I meant “strippers.” Naturally, this hockey bar had NO hockey games on. Though, they were showing the Suns/Knicks game. Speaking of Phoenix, I’m still trying to decide if I should squeeze in that Coyotes game on this road trip. It would be really tight getting back to Toronto on time for my appointments, but I could probably make it. If I thought last season’s trip to the desert was a hit and run, this would bring a whole new meaning to the phrase.
Roll the credits…
Most memorable road track: Nashville (Predators) 2006-07!
Buffalo, NY So long, farewell, auf weidersehen, good bye! It’s the moment the Anti-Fan Club has been waiting for – my departure from the world of hockey as only we in North America know it! Yes, I have reviewed all of my relocation options and have opted to take the South Korea route. You’re welcome. The rest of you are probably wondering how the Psycho of all hockey fans could stand to be away from hockey for an entire season (at least), let alone volunteer to do it. Well, the top photo has helped to ease my pain immensely.
Truthfully, I need the break from hockey. You’ve probably heard that tired complaint by certain hockey fans that like to go around locating and identifying “real” hockey fans. Like the very fact that someone enjoys watching the game isn’t enough to make them a fan. I’m of the attitude, however, that it’s not a matter of real fans versus fake fans, but rather hockey fandom to varying degrees. For someone like me, I am a hockey fan to a very high degree. Not because I have hundreds of jerseys or autographed sticks, or because I give people a Twitter play-by-play of every game I’m watching, but rather because I am very involved in the game. When you study the culture of the game, as I have for the last eight years of my life, you become completely submerged in that world. The culture of hockey became my culture, and it was hard not to notice the game everywhere I turned in my everyday life. So, even when the offseason arrives, and the players are off golfing and traveling the world, I’m still living in this land of ice and hoes.
This season there has been a lot of unpleasantness and distractions from the Anti-Fan Club abusing my readers and even threatening their careers, to scandalous rumours. In some instances, I felt almost criminal attending NHL games, and my road trips were starting to make me tired instead of happy. I guess it’s true that you can have too much of a good thing because all signs suggest that I have burnt out. Of course, there has been a lot on my mind this season as well. I entered the post academic real world (finally), and experienced the loss that comes with the end of an era in my hockey life, too. My heart just wasn’t in it like it used to be this season, and I think a lot of that has to do with the amount of effort and energy I had to expel with the Arizona Prophecy for the last two months of the 08-09 NHL season. At this point I need more than a vacation to heal.
My world was starting to feel very small – like it only consisted of thirty (NHL) cities. As it is, I have hardly done any traveling outside of those points of interest since my road show began. And, so, I decided to see if I could handle being away from the NHL for an extended period of time. I had the option to stay in North America, but I knew I couldn’t be trusted here. I would just get that sudden urge to run off at a moment’s notice to LA, or Vancouver, or Tampa as I always do, and knowing me I would go with it. This doesn’t mean that I’ll stop watching the NHL, I will definitely have to invest in that Game Center or whatever it is people are using online, and I will make damn sure to hit up some games in the Asia League while I’m over there. By the way, this will be the third continent I have lived in – Europe and North America (duh) being the first two! The point is to learn to be an isolated fan. The fan who preserves without being at the arena because, after all, not all hockey fans can be rink side as I have been so fortunate enough to have experienced many times over. Don’t worry, I will attempt to keep Psycho Lady Hockey interesting with this new perspective from thirteen time zones away (from Toronto)!
But enough about the change of life that is upon me, let’s talk about my Farewell Tour. I have only a few weeks left here in North America, so I wanted to give the NHL one final push, and see some of those rinks I haven’t had a chance to see yet – you know – in case I meet some hunky Irishman or Australian while I’m away and never return *purrs!* The journey begins today in Buffalo, but, alas, there aren’t any Sabres games scheduled at HSBC Arena tonight, or I would so be there right now! HSBC Arena is one of my faves – $5 beer!! No, the hockey road show won’t really begin until the 29th. I am bound for Manhattan in the morning (I know – I was just there two weeks ago) to celebrate my sister’s 18th birthday in style! Unfortunately, that means I’m with my entire family for the next few days, and what’s worse my MOTHER booked us all in the same hotel room (WHAT?!). As it is I’m hiding in the bathroom while I’m writing this, and using the sink for a desk! At least there is some solace in knowing that we’ll be staying at Ritz for the rest of the trip.
Of course, there is always that slight 1% chance that something monumental happens to make me change my mind and cancel my decision to venture off into the mysterious East. Who knows what that could possibly be, an offer I can’t refuse, or a grand romantic gesture perhaps? Only time will tell, but the sand is quickly running through the hourglass. Wish me luck on my final NHL extravaganza. I hope this will be a road trip for us all to remember!
Roll the credits…
Most memorable road track: Philadelphia (Flyers) 2008-09!
Yes, it’s true! Bambi has decided to branch out and start her own blog. She felt that having to censor herself for the Psycho Lady Hockey community was too difficult (I know), and she plans to let it all hang on her new site, Bambi’s Locker. Don’t worry (or definitely worry), she will still be guest blogging on here from time to time. Bambi’s Locker, a self-proclaimed “puck bunny blog,” is essentially a place for Bambi and fans to gush and drool over ALL NHL players equally – Bambi never discriminates. She claims she was having technical difficulties building her site, so she hopes that Blogger will only be a temporary home for her posts. For future reference, you can find a link to her blog under Psycho Network in my sidebar. The Network has been launched as Carmen has also shown an interest in starting a blog, but she is still undecided about her subject matter. Stay tuned for details. Anyway, I’m not sure if Bambi has the longevity to sustain a blog, but we will soon find out! All I can say is that I absolutely love the pictures she has taped up in her Locker! Click here to check out Bambi’s Locker now!
Yay! Another weekly regular feature on Psycho Lady Hockey, who’s excited? Friday Fan Mail will be a weekly mock fan letter written to a member of the hockey community. It should be fun, or totally insane. Anyway, I was going to write a letter to Pierre McGuire this week, but in light of the Lapierre hit in San Jose last night, Bambi has begged me to let her write the inaugural (love?) letter this week. Not to fear, I have a feeling I will be writing several letters to McGuire over the lifespan of this new feature. Enjoy!
Take it away, Bambi!
Dear Stallion,
I’m not sure if you remember me, but we met for the first in Philadelphia during the playoffs a couple years ago. You kept coming over to the bench and doing that ballerina stretch mmmm! You were obviously trying to get my attention, and, well, you got it, big boy! Now I know you weren’t the only guy playing there who was trying to seduce me with the groin stretching that night, but I want you to know that I liked you the best WINK!
I heard about your four game suspension for that sexy hit on poor Scottie Nichol. You’ve been a baaaaaaaad boooooooooy! Don’t worry; I’ve been defending your honour to all of those self-righteous haters out there, *ahem* Ray Ferraro. I understand you. You’re the tall, dark, and mysterious type with so much underlying passion that you can’t possibly keep it under control all the time. You’re like a time bomb of manliness just waiting to explode – the clock just happened to run down in San Jose. It must be so hard for you to have to carry the burden of all this emotional turmoil all by yourself. I think I know a way to help you keep your passion under control…wink wink… What do ya say? You don’t have anything to do until March 13th anyway!
Sexily yours,
Xx Bambi
P.S. I’ve enclosed a picture of what our future son, Bax (Bambi + Max), will look like *trills.* Cute huh? He’s too precious to play hockey; I hope you don’t mind.
The Arizona Prophecy is probably the strangest thing to ever grace the archives of this blog, or ANY hockey related blog for that matter. It’s the one event that seemed to really divide my readers between “fans” and haters. Seeing as this is MY blog, I feel like I can write about MY life anyway that I see fit, but I do realize that the subject matter of this overarching subplot was not for everyone. Anyway, seeing as today is the NHL Trade Deadline, it is also the one year anniversary of the Arizona Prophecy and my launching into what you have now come to know as my Carmen Sandiego-like adventures around the hockey world. So, perhaps for the last time, we look at whatever became of the prophecy, and what I did or did not learn along the way.
Here’s a brief summary for those who are not familiar with the Arizona Prophecy. For about two years leading up to the 2009 Trade Deadline, multiple psychics told me that the man I was “meant to be with” had a connection to Arizona. I should probably clarify that I don’t normally take this stuff seriously, but I do attend a couple psychic fairs a year for fun with friends, etc. It struck me as odd that this Arizona Prophecy was coming up over and over again with different psychics. Anyway, around early November 2008, I started having my own unshakable feelings that this prophecy was about to become a reality.
Seeing as I was always a crazy traveling hockey fan, I knew that I wouldn’t be drawn to Arizona unless it was for hockey. But the Coyotes! Really? (Remember they were CRAPPY then!) Even I thought it was an unlikely move for me to make without the right prompting. However, by November that year I started planning my switch to Phoenix if the pieces fell into place the way I was told they would. Less than four months later, they did.
On March 4th, 2009 the stars aligned and the cards fell exactly as the prophecy foretold. I found myself with a major personal decision to make. Should I ignore this massive thing (sign, manifestation?) that was staring me in the face, and go back to my normal life? Or should I do the ballsy thing and feed my own curiosity, and find out what may or may not be waiting for me in the desert? I had nothing to lose. No matter what, I was going to be following one hockey team or another, so I decided to jump the Coyotes bandwagon and see what came of it. I don’t regret making my decision.
One year later, it is not clear if I found “the one” after spending all the time that I did in the Coyotes camp. Of course, I can’t be sure that I haven’t found him either. Like I said, the Arizona Prophecy is one of the major things that contributed to Psycho Lady Hockey becoming what it is today. I have met a lot of great people and have had a lot of opportunities presented to me because of this success. You can never be sure where your connections will lead you – that’s life. The whole experience felt magical, and I’m really not of the belief that the last year was a complete waste. I’m sure things will reveal themselves in due time, but I will admit that, given the electricity of the situation, it was mildly disappointing that this “mystery man” was not just waiting with open arms the moment I touched down at Sky Harbour or arrived at the rink for my first Coyotes game.
The annoying thing about the Arizona Prophecy, which was also the biggest factor in causing me to back off of it in the long run, was the conclusions that jealous anti-fans and obsessive gentlemen jumped to over my “real reason” for switching teams to Phoenix – trying to land a hockey player via stalking. The Arizona Prophecy was never about marrying a hockey player. It was about letting myself move with the universe, fate, destiny or whatever it is, and go with the flow and see what came of it. I was never even of the attitude that love was what I was meant to find even though that’s what I was told was there. I was open to anything. I suppose the confusing thing was that I determined that the Coyotes played into it somehow. It wasn’t necessarily that I was supposed to find one of the players, I just figured that since I was a traveling hockey writer, this person may appear in the process of me writing about my Coyotes adventures. The accusations finally became too bothersome to put up with; I was tired of having to explain and defend myself to strangers. However, my decision to leave the Coyotes only succeeded in facilitating even more rumours of the same variety.
The positive thing about the Arizona Prophecy was that I learned a lot about myself in the process. I learned about what I was capable of as a person and what I wanted in life. A lot of the flack I get is from misguided individuals who assume I’m a puck bunny because I look a certain way. Because of my history studying these types of fans, I am comfortable with myself as a fan and don’t feel the need to try to convince people I’m not this thing that they don’t even fully understand in the first place. The thing is that I have dated hockey players, which could make me a puck bunny in the eyes of the uneducated. But the thing is that I have been very involved with hockey almost all my life, which means that I would be hard pressed to find anyone to date if I automatically wrote off any guy who ever played hockey in my social circle. I think I know maybe two guys who don’t!
Contrary to popular belief, however, the NHL hockey wife lifestyle is extremely unattractive to me. It’s not something I want for myself. One of the things I’ve learned on this journey was that I am an adventuress. I think I will always be looking for my next adventure. The Arizona Prophecy even helped me to get myself on my career path after I finished school. I realized what I needed in my life to be happy: mystery, travel, excitement, drama, change, unpredictability, and danger. I became very sure of myself and where I needed to go. Now, I would never NOT date someone I liked because of what he did for a living (well…maybe a gynecologist…not sure how I feel about that one), but I think about hockey wives/girlfriends laying by their pools all day with their biggest worries being that their implants are starting to sag and that they haven’t tweeted in the last couple hours to confirm to the world that they are still with their hockey playing golden ticket, and I can’t even imagine my life that way. I can’t imagine exploring the world by its shopping districts and spas alone. It’s a shallow existence to be so concerned with your image. I personally can’t even fathom a life this boring, but then again I’m not the materialistic type. So, I don’t really understand the joy someone might get from splashing money around and trying to act like a “rock star.” They obviously get something from it I would imagine.
Like I said, I learned a lot about myself roaming the proverbial deserts of the Arizona Prophecy. I now know that adventure and experiences are the most valuable and meaningful things I think I can spend my life and breath on. That’s not to say that I want a life without ambition. I’m just saying I will be unhappy if I haven’t seen and done everything that I want to in my lifetime. I need constant movement for my sanity. It’s taking everything I have in me right now to keep me from jumping in the car and driving for days with no specific destination in mind.
The funniest thing about the Arizona Prophecy and that whole soul mate business is that, until all the pieces fell into place and I was faced with the opportunity to find this important person, I was never really preoccupied with love. I usually found that dating just kind of got in the way, so it was really an amazing thing that I even opted to give into the predictions and just charge forward looking for someone that I didn’t even know existed. I guess that meant I was finally ready to consider sharing my adventures with another person. However, after twelve months of NHL suites, Ritz Carltons, and front row hockey tickets, I realized that what I really wanted in terms of love was what I started to refer to as the “shack in the woods” element. Essentially, I want the love of my life to be free of the phony superficial bullshit. I want someone who wants me for me ONLY, not what I have or what I do for a living (and vice versa). Someone who doesn’t have to keep up the sham of our relationship by taking me shopping and buying me shoes. But perhaps that’s a bit of a pipe dream. It seems everyone subscribes to these Paris Hilton-type values these days. Sigh.
As for the future of the Arizona Prophecy, I’m not sure that I want to give up on it entirely. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. I’m entertaining the idea of taking another sojourn in Arizona (for non-hockey reasons this time) and giving the whole thing one final chance to manifest. Of course, I did consider that maybe all the prophecy was were predictions that just happened to come true; maybe they meant nothing at all. Regardless, I’m feeling that call to adventure and exploration very strongly again. I found out that there is a good chance that I will be moving far, far, far north for work, and I’m really excited about it if I do get this assignment. So, before I disappear into the isolation of the Arctic wilderness, perhaps one last sweep of the desert is in order, sooner than later, before it becomes more than a destination of inconvenience, and my alleged soul mate is lost to the sands forever.
Roll the credits…
(I still can’t listen to Muse without being reminded of driving around Arizona with the top down at night)
Hi, remember Top 10 Tuesday? It’s been awhile, but I couldn’t resist making one this week in honour of the NHL trade deadline. It’s my *favourite* day of the year! This week I have compiled a list of mock trade announcements. That’s right, they’re FAKE like the goods on your least favourite hockey girlfriend. I feel like I shouldn’t have to specify this, but you never know these days with the YouPorners and such. Anyway, enjoy the list and have a Happy Trade Deadline tomorrow! P.S. Try not to be too sad that Puck Bunny Month is over.
10. With rumours that Dany Heatley is still upset with his amount of ice time in San Jose, the Sharks seek to trade him to St. Louis where he will subsequently be reassigned to the Alaska Aces of the ECHL. The Sharks feel that Heatley can have all the ice he wants in the great white north. They want nothing in return.
9. Upper management in Pittsburgh has decided to ship Sidney Crosby to the first Canadian team that makes an offer. The Penguins feel that Crosby’s life is endanger after his performance in the Vancouver 2010 gold medal game if he remains in Steel Town. So far only Minnesota has made an offer.
8. CBC has reported that the Leafs’ trade suggestion box (dumpster) behind the Air Canada Centre has overflowed for the third time since the Olympic break. MLSE is expected to pay the City of Toronto $1500 in fines for littering.
7. In true Edmonton hockey wife fashion, Hilary Duff has made a formal request that fiancé Mike Comrie be traded to an American NHL city. The spokesperson for the couple stated that Ms. Duff felt that her million dollar engagement ring was not safe in the sketchy part of Edmonton wherein Rexall Place is situated.
6. Sources in Atlanta state that Theo Fleury’s agent has been allegedly bargaining royalties to his book Playing with Fire in exchange for a tryout with the Thrashers in September.
5. The Florida Panthers and Tampa Bay Lightning have agreed to swap teams. ProLine is currently taking bets on how long it will take for hockey fans to notice the difference.
4. The Anaheim Ducks hope the third time is the charm as they make moves to trade Joffrey Lupul for Chris Pronger again. The hockey world mourns the loss of the In the Loops blog.
3. In the wake of the bizarre love triangle in the Leafs dressing room, Brian Burke has announced his intent to move Mike Komisarek to less hostile territory. Phoenix has reportedly jumped at the opportunity. Finally, a place to push the Peter Mueller card!
2. Sharks scout, John Ferguson Jr, has allegedly been trying to convince GM Doug Wilson to let Chris Chelios retire in a San Jose jersey.
1. The New York Rangers have sought to clear some cap space by dealing Wade Redden to the Dallas Stars. In other news, Sean Avery was suspended indefinitely for referring to the Stars as his sloppy seconds.
About a month after that pivotal last game of the season, I decided to move an hour away from home (and my precious junior hockey team), and finish high school in Toronto. I was seventeen and still in the habit of coming home on the weekends. My friends were becoming more and more rabid for the junior hockey scene since their encounter with the locker room puck bunnies during the last game of the playoffs. Naturally, they had replaced me with some new aspiring puck bunnies since I was in Toronto for at least five days a week. And let me tell you, they had been up to no good.
A couple months into the season I found myself at a game with my friends and these new puck bunnies for the first time. They were in the habit of waiting after every single game, and the fact that I was the one with the car keys still didn’t give me enough authority to convince them to vamoose. Once again, I pressed myself up against that same spot on the wall near the locker room trying not to embarrass myself. However, I still felt incredibly awkward regardless.
One of the new girls had a massive crush on some of the new blood on the team that year. All the girls piled around him when he got off the bikes and was heading toward the locker room door. I was looking around the arena almost subconsciously trying to disassociate myself with the girls fawning all over this new guy who was supposed to be the next big thing. But as I turned back towards my girls, I saw his eyes staring right into me. The thought that he was probably watching me the entire time made my cheeks glow red. It wasn’t one of those harmless glances either; he was fully attempting to steal my virginity with his eyes. I could tell by the smile on his lips and the twinkle in his eye that I would be in serious trouble if I didn’t avoid him at all costs. Unfortunately, my friends had other plans.
Once lover boy had marked his territory, my cluster began bending over backwards to get him whatever he wanted, which just happened to be me in this case. I always thought this was odd especially considering that one of the girls was so “in love” with him that she was buying up all his merchandise at the team store. They went to some incredible lengths like impersonating me on the phone and Internet because I wasn’t interested enough to contact him myself. But I think the strangest thing of all was that they were no longer confident that my looks were good enough for him.
The night that he first saw me I was dressed in my usual fashion, jeans, ponytail, and no makeup – nothing special. It was kind of funny how my friends never stopped to consider that the way I looked that night was what attracted him in the first place. Instead, they would make me come over to one of their houses a few hours before each game so they could have a “pretty party.” This party basically consisted on me sitting there while they did my hair and makeup. I don’t think I had ever worn makeup before this, truthfully. And it wasn’t just makeup; they’d do things like buy me shirts they thought I should wear to the next game for no good reason other than the fact that they felt it was very important that he needed to see me wearing them. The whole process kind of felt like a “preparing of the virgin” so to speak; it was a bit disturbing and terrifying. I wonder if normal non-puck bunnies do this kind of stuff for their friends.
I wasn’t really into the guy at first, but eventually I came around. He was just so…pathetic. I don’t know how else to describe it. He was probably the first guy to ever really show a romantic interest in me. The guy practically followed me around like a little puppy dog, and I just ended up getting used to it. What I once thought was pathetic started to seem adorable. But, like all things, it didn’t last. The male ego got in the way. At that age the ego has a hard time keeping up with the body I think.
My girl friends flew into panic mode at the news that things were no longer working out between us. They had to think of plan to get themselves in with the players because they knew they couldn’t rely on me anymore. I still loved hockey and the team, but everything was still fresh, so I didn’t really want to have an overwhelming presence at the arena. I finally hit my breaking point with the puck bunny behaviour after one horrible game a few weeks later.
They lied to me. They told me they bought us all tickets for the game that night. We were allegedly in row J (out of S), so I was comfortable with the idea. However, we were actually in the first row, which caused more teenage awkwardness than I needed at that point. I really wasn’t ready to see him that close up again, but glass seats turned out to be the least of my worries that night. For the first time ever I didn’t drive to the game. One of the newbies got her licence and so she was in charge of our comings and goings. Not only did they have to wait around after the game, they heard that there was a team party going on and they decided to find it.
My last memory of my time with these girls was of me sitting in the back seat of a soccer mom minivan, while the girls followed the players’ cars. They just happened to be directly behind my guy’s ride as well, which caused me to duck down in my seat and wish for death. It was at that moment right there that I realized that these girls, my friends, had fully crossed over to puck bunnydom. The funny thing was that they hadn’t done any of the stereotypical things that a puck bunny was “supposed” to do. Puck bunnies were supposed to be girls that just messed around with the players, so if any of us fit that bill, it was me not them. These girls had just become so obsessed with the players that they turned our friendship into a type of business – the business of landing a hockey player boyfriend.
I never saw those girls again in the hockey capacity. They became more and more consumed by the way of the puck bunny until finally they were getting into some serious criminal dealings in their attempts to meet the team, like theft, vandalism, and stalking. They never got anywhere with any of the players, which kind of made everything seem so unnecessarily traumatic in hindsight. After all, they dropped me at a time when I needed the support of my friends most of all, and for what, a hockey team made up of complete strangers?! That’s why I laugh when I see my “haters” go after me on rumour sites, etc because they think that by siding with the player that I have an alleged conflict with that he and his team will magically know and care about who they are. That behaviour has always been a tell tale sign of a puck bunny for me. It’s sad that people are still that pathetic, though; after all, they don’t have the excuse of being in high school anymore.
You can see why I was suddenly inspired to research puck bunnies and write a book about them after this experience. Funny story: after all of this shit went down, what those girls didn’t know was that a few months later a certain hockey player was down on his knees begging me for forgiveness. Not only that, but we also had a bit of a thing again a few years later after he made it to the pros. I wonder if my friends would still think ditching me over a hockey team was worth it if they knew that this was the case. Of course, it would have been a less nightmarish experience if I was able to peer into the future, too. It’s like that song says, “I wish that I knew what I know now, when I was younger.”
Thus concludes Puck Bunny Month! Hope you liked it!
Did Facebook kill the puck bunny like video killed the radio star? It’s another crazed theory of mine that social media may be a contributing factor to the declining numbers of these lovable critters. When zoologists study endangered species, for example, one of the variables they take into consideration is the food source or the chain of command in its habitat. Whether the species in question is the hunter or the prey, shifts in hunting practices can either cause numbers in one or both species to devastate or overwhelm the ecosystem. So, it’s no surprise that hunting practices in the underworld of hockey players and puck bunnies would impact the poor showing that these ladies are putting up on game day.
So how do puck bunnies hunt? Well, there are several ways from arena lurking to speed racing to staking out in front of the players’ homes, but maybe the biggest tool available to puck bunnies is the Internet. Arguably, the puck bunny uprising coincided with the Internet/computer take over in the mid ‘90s to the early 2000s, as did the more depraved aspects of hockey culture. Websites like Junior Hockey Bible and rumour forums were key contributors in the mass spreading of unsavoury hockey player related information to the point that these doings simply became common practice. The hockey “lifestyle” was born.
Naturally, the puck bunnies evolved with the times and began using the earlier and more primitive networking tools like MSN, AIM, and, yes, even ICQ to improve their games. Puck bunnies would share player contact information with each other on the aforementioned gossip sites (don’t get excited, dear, this activity is still illegal), and players began reporting that random girls would add them pretty much daily. The players and unattractive puck bunnies alike were loving this new technological advancement. True story: I remember this fierce puck bunny back in the day. She was a…big lady….I don’t know how to say that any more delicately. Anyway, according to her bff, who was in my grade twelve economics class, she used to send the players to a personal website of a porn star, who just happened to have the same first name, so they could see what she “looks like.” Unfortunately, for the hockey stars, 2% body fat and implants didn’t show up at their billets’ front doors, but fortunately, for our festively plump friend, seventeen year old boys weren’t about to tell a sure thing to take a hike. Everyone’s a winner!
But, of course, there can be too much of a good thing. MySpace and other social media sites started to put MSN and the like to shame. Finally, when Facebook opened its doors to non-university students all Hell broke loose. It was suddenly way too easy to know everything there was to know about everyone. Seems like this would be a good thing for the puck bunnies, right? Well, it was, at first, but then Facebook started ruining people’s lives. People started losing their jobs because of questionable photos or wall posts, marriages dissolved due to public extramarital flirtations, and the conflicts were not any smaller in the puck bunny realm.
Sure, there were the traditional hockey types that used Facebook to score with puck bunnies and cheat on their girlfriends. I knew one guy that didn’t use his real name (so his girlfriend wouldn’t find out), and told his targets to “Google him” as proof that he was really an AHL player. It was fun for a while, but then everyone started getting Facebook, which meant that the girlfriends started getting Facebook. Suddenly, the hockey players were being forced to fess up to their unfortunate relationships with the dreaded “Facebook Relationship Status” lest they receive a thorough tongue lashing from the old ball and chain (and not the type they like either). These declarations only resulted in massive swagger killing and style cramping.
So, why would the online revelation that the hockey player has attached himself to a rank hag deter the puck bunnies from their prerogative? Contrary to popular belief (and the belief is only popular due to the overwhelming amount of people that seem to think that when a hockey player has been linked romantically or sexually to a woman, who isn’t his rank-ass hag, that she is somehow automatically the villain/slut in the transaction), most of the women and puck bunnies that have helped the hockey players to engage in their extracurricular affairs were actually misled, by the player himself, into believing that he was in fact single. I know you may be shocked, but some of these women actually abide by moral codes which would keep them from having any hand in adultery (but, even if they didn’t, the hockey player is the one with the relationship and the responsibility to his girlfriend, the girl isn’t).
The revelation of the aforementioned hockey hag via social media sites, like Facebook or Twitter, is slaughtering the new generation of puck bunnies before they have even matured. The ugly truth about the rank hag disillusions the puck bunny early on before her initial interest and budding attraction in the player develops into full blow motivation and desire. With the absence of sites like Junior Hockey Bible, and the dwindling popularity of the rumour boards, this new wave of puck bunnies is likely not as familiar with certain truths about the hockey world and the fidelity of the players. Therefore, when the young bunny comes into contact with the hockey girlfriend’s online avatar, she cannot be bothered to pursue him any further, and her attention turns back to the hottie in her fourth period history class. Wow, who would have thought that the ultimate online stalking tool would destroy the puck stalkers’ game completely? Perhaps, we have a whole new wave of monogamous hockey players about to enter the pros to look forward to! Yeah…you’re right… probably not…
Don’t go getting all huffy on me before you actually READ what I have to say about this. Some of the rabble tends to freak out whenever I discuss anything relating to puck bunnies. They seem to think that my puck bunny related discussions somehow translates to me labeling ALL female hockey fans as puck bunnies…riiiight. Like when I posted the puck bunny quiz, I received a nice freak out from an uneducated anti-fan who decided that my puck bunny quiz was offensive to women because it claimed that all women were puck bunnies. Hmm…this is where those basic literacy skills come into play. You see, the quiz wasn’t titled, “Are You A Real Hockey Fan?” it was titled, “What Type of Puck Bunny Are You?”which typically implies that if you are taking the quiz in the first place, you are either under the impression that you ARE a puck bunny, or you’re just curious and reading it for fun. Isn’t it interesting how pretty much ALL of the jealous she-haters, that seem to think they know more about puck bunnies and hockey culture than the girl (me) who wrote the ONLY book on the subject, are all American?! Read on.
Like I said yesterday, and like many of my American friends have admitted, it is pretty much impossible for an American hockey fan to understand the puck bunny culture and the culture of hockey that we have here in the great white north. It goes beyond giving priority and privilege to young athletes, as I know also happens in the States with baseball, football, and basketball players predominately. In Canada, it’s like hockey is the ONLY sport. Sure, we have young football players, basketball players, etc, but you don’t typically see them get anywhere with the exception of Steve Nash and many, many low income NLL talents. Male hockey players get all the glory; they are seen as the future “heroes” of the country. There was a recent legal battle here over designated ice time at a community rink. The girls hockey team was being jerked around so the boys team could get more use of the rink. That’s pretty heavy stuff.
I was browsing a bookstore a few years back and I opened an autobiography that was laying out on one of the display tables. The very first line of the book was something to the effect of, “As a Canadian boy I knew that I would either grow up to be a hockey player or grow up to be failure.” That’s about right. As I said in my post about the Olympics, the glorification of the “hockey gods” is what really got me into the whole puck bunny culture in the first place. Professional hockey players have always been privileged. Not just in terms of getting pity grades in school, or having the entire country graveling at their feet. They all come from privileged lifestyles and good homes. I’m sure there are probably only a handful, if any, of hockey players who clawed their way up from the gutter to the NHL on hard work and dedication alone. Hockey is an expensive sport. Every winter, since they were five years old, their parents had to put up money for new skates and equipment, not to mention the fees attached to playing at a competitive level. Not everyone can afford to do this stuff for their kids, so I guess what I’m saying is that these guys are likely to have been spoiled their whole lives, not just when they made it big and had the cash to blow on the collagen injections and eyelash implants of their stripper-like girlfriends. Where is the “hero” in all of this?
Now I’m definitely not saying that American women don’t throw themselves at hockey players, of course they do. Some of my hockey buddies were so pumped when they found out they were going to play in the States because they heard American girls were sluttier. Apparently, they “do more.” Whatever that means. Anyway, what I’m saying is that these women are likely not puck bunnies. Much like the anti-fans who can’t seem to grasp the basic ideas I’ve been laying out, many people cannot get past the basic stereotypes surrounding the “puck bunny” as an entity. Generally, people just assume that these are girls who have sex with hockey players just because they have status, money, and fame. Sorry, that’s not quite it. Any individual possessing those things will have groupies, like musicians, celebrities, athletes, politicians, business tycoons, etc. The puck bunny seems to be the ONLY type of groupie in existence that is attracted solely by the game the hockey player plays on the ice without the influence of money or, in many cases, tremendous skill.
When I was researching puck bunnies, I discovered that there were nearly twenty different kinds that all exist on a spectrum with varying degrees of interactions with the players. Very few puck bunnies try to have physical relationships with the hockey players. And I think this is the factor that kind of blows the mind of the average American trying to understand this concept. I had several Americans say to me, “Well, this puck bunny thing just sounds like the way girls are with all athletes.” Like I mentioned above, all athletes will bring groupies and gold-diggers out of the woodwork; money will do that. The puck bunny culture, however, is strongest at the Canadian junior level where the hockey players have local fame only and no money. In Canada, hockey players are to be revered period. Such reverence does not include blow jobs. It is simply the glorification of the player because he plays “our game.” Hell, many puck bunnies are guys!
Like I said, I’m not saying American women cannot display puck bunny like behaviour, but likely this behaviour comes from the influence of the Bartender Factor and not puck bunny culture. The Bartender Factor is what I used to describe the competitive female drive in socialized dating scenes. I don’t want to make sweeping generalizations that ALL women do this, but come on, you know you’ve seen your friends do it at least once. Perhaps it’s the fact that humans are biologically polygynous, so women naturally seem to try to compete for the best possible “mate.” I don’t know about you, but in my circle of friends we tend to refer to the guys that we are dating by their profession so we don’t get them all mixed up. I knew a girl that dated a guy that worked at a golf course, just so she could tell everyone he was a “pro” golfer LOL! But anyway, women tend to be attracted to the guy who stands out of the crowd, and I don’t mean in the sense that he’s cuter or nicer than the others, I mean in the sense that he has some type of authority over the masses. Like the bartender, for example. The bartender may not be the best looking guy or the funniest guy at the bar, but he has one thing the other hundreds of guys in the building don’t have; he’s BEHIND the bar. This area behind the bar puts him at a level of authority, and makes him a rarer and much more valuable kill. If you hit it off with the bartender, not only will your friends be “impressed,” but every other girl in the bar will be jealous of you. Plus it’s easier to say you hooked up with the bartender, than “that guy in the white shirt that said he worked in Hamilton, and I think his name was Mike.” And I’m definitely not off on this theory. The stories some of my guy friends have told me about their “bartending” days rival the dirt quality in the stories coming from the hockey player camp. Heard that expression, “I love a man in uniform?” That’s essentially the Bartender Factor talking. Essentially, even to women who may not understand the culture surrounding hockey or even care about the sport, they will still find the few guys skating on the ice far more appealing than the thousands of guys in the stands for just this reason.
Anyway, I am starting to believe that true puck bunnies have to have been brought up in the excessive hockey culture that we have here in Canada. Again, the difference between the puck bunny genus in Canada versus the gold-digger/groupie genus in the US likely is the byproduct of Canada have one predominant sport and the US having three (or four if you count NASCAR). In the US, baseball season becomes football season, and football season becomes basketball season. There is always a new sport to get into, and so one sport does not get all the attention or all the cultural significance. In Canada it is hockey season all year round. The coverage never stops even when the players are out golfing or vacationing at their summer homes.
I hope I’ve helped you understand the puck bunny culture a little more with this entry. I’m sorry my thoughts have been so scattered lately. I’ve been watching too much Supernatural over the last ten days, and I swear that show is made of crack. Speaking of…I have to get going; I think I hear Sam and Dean calling…
No white shirt wearing Hamiltonians named Mike were raped during the writing of this blog post.
Exactly one week after my trek beyond the outer limits of the 401 East, and by that I mean, Montreal, I found myself retracing my steps and bound for our nation’s capital. Of course, Scotiabank Place is quiet these days with the NHL on hiatus for the Olympics and all, so this time around I was headed to the previously unexplored Urbandale Centre, home of the Ottawa 67’s of the Ontario Hockey League. Fun times.
Back in the day, I had this notion that there was a heavy puck bunny scene down in Ottawa, and the locals, who were around during this reign of terror, confirmed that I wasn’t off in my assumptions. Back then I had based this idea on those puck bunny rumour sites that I mentioned a few weeks ago. Not only was there a lot of activity coming directly from the puck bunny sites dedicated to the 67’s, but there was a lot of inquiries made about gals spotted rink side on the players’ moderated sites as well. If players from around the O were so intrigued by the puck bunny caliber in Ottawa that they had to find out who these girls were at all costs, then obviously these O-Town bunnies were, at one time, a force to be reckoned with. This high puck quality suggests a higher puck quantity as well…you know…seeing as most hockey players will attempt to nail practically anything that moves. Anyway…
However, the old days appeared to be long gone (once again) as I walked into yet another OHL rink with a virtually extinct puck bunny population. Aside from the odd cluster here and there, and rumours that some of the ice girls were partial to hanging around the locker rooms a little longer than they should, there was almost no sign that these girls ever existed. Since the game against the Erie Otters and the trip itself were so uneventful (the highlights being running into the team bus after I finished pumping gas in Brockville, and discovering that the Urbandale Centre had its very own BeaverTails stand), I had more than enough time to reexamine some of my going theories about the disappearance of the puck bunny.
To begin the brainstorming process, I had to take a trip back in time to my teen years, and start identifying some of the things that have changed socially since this golden era when the puck bunny reigned supreme from their junior hockey rink thrones across the country. The easiest thing to identify was the physical change; teen girls today look a lot different from the teens roaming this side of the planet less than ten years ago. Girls are aging (aesthetically) at a faster pace, for starters. You can blame the trendsetters in Hollywood for trying to convince the world that we’re unhealthy if we don’t have skin damage from the sun. And let’s not forget that fake is in: fake tans, fake boobs, fake nails, fake hair, fake personality; women today are starting to look like a page aggressively ripped from the binding of the latest Us Weekly – the SAME page no less.
Naturally, this started to make me question to state of desire, and what was now considered desirable to the young, contemporary female who subscribed to these ideals. My major jumping off point was the designer handbag, sunglasses, and pretty much everything uprising. See, about fifteen years ago (I’d say), lower end designers came on in full force with that whole “brand name” rage that swept the impressionable youth of its day. You remember when brands like Calvin Klein, Tommy Hilfiger, etc started becoming the it-designers for the middle class for the simple reason that they started splashing their name across the chest of every shirt they shipped to the department store nearest you. This began the designer obsession on the sole basis that now other people would be able to know how much you could afford to spend on material things, and how well you dressed just by simply reading the logo stamped in bold on the clothing item itself. Now, I’m not saying people never cared about fashion before that, but labels had never really been seen on the outside of a dress or a shirt, or, or, or before. Let’s just say keeping up appearances suddenly got a whole lot easier.
It took the upscale designers a surprisingly long time to get on board with this concept. Well, I shouldn’t say “surprisingly,” I’m sure the upper crust was not about to start begging for mass consumption as the likes of Tommy and Calvin were so eager to do. So, it wasn’t until I was in university, and long estranged from the junior hockey realm that the designer handbag fever swept the western world. What a brilliant idea. High end designers like Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton, and Chanel, all began producing purses in mass with their logo as the very pattern of the fabric. Without lowering the cost of the product, the designer handbag brigade began making purses that could be identified visually as being an icon of the upper class. Sure, before this era began, you COULD have spent all your hard earned money on a black Chanel purse that no one would know was Chanel except for the fashion obsessed (and even still, they’d probably just assume it was fake), but I think you can all see how much more appealing it would be to acquire this status item, if most people could identify it as such, and, therefore, you can also see how people would be all the more willing to throw down a cool grand if they can fake having this lifestyle for whatever reason or whatever pleasure they derive from doing so.
At first I complicated my theory unnecessarily. I started looking at the bigger picture of what such consumerism and such materialism was doing to the motivation of a young and impressionable society. Perhaps, this new age suggested that more and more women were signing up for the life of a gold-digger, and, perhaps, junior hockey players were small fish to fry in the grander scheme of NHL players and investment bankers. I decided, however, that, if there was something to this designer handbag theory, the cause could be found in the simplistic. These young pucks, running around with their Coach bags and Armani sunglasses, are, quite simply, TOO BROKE to afford hockey tickets. Sure, OHL games are cheap, but if you’re in high school, and either have no job or, if you do, you work at McDonald’s, you likely can’t afford to have your cake and eat it too. Especially when you consider that the designer purses, shoes, jeans also have to be constantly maintained with hair dye and trips to the tanning salon. And let me tell you, it used to cost me $250 a month just to maintain blonde hair – that’s a car payment for some people! Anyway, in the bigger picture, most puck bunnies realize that hockey players are hard birds to cage, and, therefore, attempting to impress the rest of the world becomes a much more lucrative investment.
Of course, not ALL puck bunnies play their games while rink side. Many junior level puck bunnies use the high school campus as a much more accessible hunting ground. However, that’s another story for another day. Stay tuned for more of my crazy theories, as Puck Bunny Month draws to a close.
Taken before I made an A&W pit stop. With attractions like these, are you surprised that this is the home town of Avril Lavigne?
Roll the credits…
(I like this video because Avril_Bambi and Avril_Carmen are in it.)
Down the Rabbit Hole: A Guide to Puck Bunnies (2004)
Content currently unavailable as the book is back on the market.
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!
NHL Rinks Visited
[44] Air Canada Centre
[08] Wachovia Center
[06] HSBC Arena
[05] Scotiabank Place
[04] Joe Louis Arena
[03] TD Banknorth Garden
[03] Honda Center
[02] Pepsi Center
[02] Mellon Arena
[02] Bell Centre
[01] Verizon Center
[01] United Center
[01] Staples Center
[01] Sommet Center
[01] Scottrade Center
[01] Prudential Center
[01] Nationwide Arena
[01] Nassau Coliseum
[01] Madison Square Garden
[01] Jobing.com Arena
[01] HP Pavilion
[01] BankAtlantic Center
[01] American Airlines Center
[01] Maple Leaf Gardens*
*Indicates Inactive Facility
Other Rinks Visited
[60] Ricoh Coliseum
[41] St. Michael's Arena
[26] Kitchener Auditorium
[08] Van Andel Arena
[08] Sleeman Centre
[07] Copps Coliseum
[05] Bradley Center
[04] Quicken Loans Arena
[03] John Labatt Centre
[02] Scope Arena
[02] Arena Zurich-Kloten
[01] Urbandale Centre
[01] UofT Varsity Arena
[01] London Ice House
[01] Jack Gatecliff Arena
[01] Hershey Centre
[01] Cincinnati Gardens
[01] Barrie Molson Centre
[01] AT&T Center
[01] Allstate Arena
New York, NY The funny thing about New York City is that I always forget where I am when I’m here. It just feels like I’m at home. In fact, I hang out with my New York based friends a lot more than I do with my friends back home in Toronto! My first day back in Manhattan (in the last two weeks) was yet another full day. Unfortunately, I was running on no sleep and my mother decided that we had to go to The Met that morning. Gross. Did I mention that we had a 5:50AM flight in? Yeah, not good. I was pretty much dead, and couldn’t find a Rockstar energy drink if my life depended on it. I don’t know how many times I nearly fell asleep in various cabs.
