Rumours (again)....

I shall resist the 'Fleetwood Mac' joke this time.

So, here is a little round up of the rumours circulating the Phoenix in the post-palyoff wilderness:

Ross Dalgliesh to join us from Nottingham. Apparently we are looking at a 'fiesty' young Brit with 3 seasons EIHL experience behind him. Dalgliesh fits the bill, so his name has surfaced. Could be a good signing if he does pitch up in the Dome.

Doug McIver to join us from Peterborough. He has admitted on his Twitter account that an EPL side has expressed an interest in his services for next season. And he's mates with Brett Clouthier... Would be good if Payette didn't/wasn't asked to come back.

And the apparently Walker and Jaakko have been approached by us, but both want to 'asses their future' before signing on the line. Or to put it another way, they both want to see who else is willing to take them on, and how much they are willing to pay. Which is fair. One of these guys would be a huge loss, the other... meh. You decide which is which.

Now THAT was a weekend to remember! (Part 2)

So, where were we?

Oh yeah....

Sunday:

Well, Sunday got off to a fairly quiet (and late-ish) start, with yet another meander around Coventry. I swear every time me and Russ went for a walk, we found another fucking shopping mall... anyways, we made our way to the Wetherspoons again, for a gentle start to the day (big assed glass of coke), where we bumped into Matt and Becky once more. After a very pleasent little chat (about the usual hockey-politik), we were joined by Caz, Ang, and Nathan. Whilst everyone else had brekkie, with the intent of going to watch the U18s game, me and Russ nursed our drinks until the lunch menu started.

At this point, everyone else left for the rink, and me and Russ tucked into possibly the worst excuse I have ever had for a chicken dinner. Seriously, it was awful, like some weird creature had vomited up a chicken, and then it was dried off until not an ounce of moisture was left. Even the IceDomes burgers would have been more appetizing.

Anyways, we eventually made our way down to the rink, and saw, ooooh, about 30 seconds of the U18s game, before we heeded the call of the beer, and set up shop in Crosbys for a nice relaxed afternoon....

Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? We went into Crosbys and proceeded to drink. Rather a lot. Some of the Phoenix players were there, enjoying the hospitality of the bar. Chief amongst them were Lacho (who was quite amazingly drunk, and very proud of his hideous new hoodie), Ryan Johnston (pissed and in a cheeky mood, and Fone (who was being quite quiet... most unlike a netminder).

To save a few blushes, I shall now give a precis of some of the afternoons events:

Lacho got more pissed.
Ryan got more pisssed.
I got dragged into the middle of a players photo (by Ryan)
Quite a few of us had a bash at the 'punchbag machine' (The winner was Tony Jones).
Mikey hurt himself on the punchbag (to the hilarity of everyone else).
Ryan did 'The Fish'.
I broke up what was almost a bar fight (I know, I know, I'm usually the cause of the fights).

And no-one watched any hockey. At all. Although poor old Lacho (who was claiming to have been up all night) kept getting sent to chack the score.

I also had a nice little chat with ex-Phoenix play Rhys McWilliams. Nice lad. Seems to be happier than he was at our place, so good for him. Definately lost weight.

After the final finished, the bar seemed to empty pretty fast (which I felt was odd). However, at this point I did actually get to watch some hockey when a group of us went to see the reccy practise/game taking place in the rink. Poor old Wheeler was playing, and we decided to treat him like a star, with cheers and everything. Eventually, Caz and Ang went to Crosbys again, whilst I found myself once more with Matt and Becky.

Once the reccy game was done, we decamped to the Old Windmill (minus Russ, Caz, Ang, and Nathan) for more drinkies. Until the kicked us out at about midnight-ish. Much like the previous night, there were jokes, stories, and a little bit of debate (I fully admit to being questioned over a number of isssues, and trying my hardest not to argue with people, which i think I did quite well for me). As the night wore on, we were joined (for last orders) by Caz and Ang. Which was nice.

Funniest moment of the night came after we left the Old Windmill, when Wheeler managed to walk, boolck first into a wall mounted cigatette bin.And yes, I took a photo.

The 4 remaining nutters (ie me, Becky, Matt, and Wheeler) made it back to Crosbys for one last drink, then folks, after a little chat with the Bracknell fans who were the only other folks left, that Im afraid to say was that....

Monday:

Monday was a nice quiet day. A brief chat in Wetherspoons with Becky and Matt (spot a pattern here?), after the chavviest breakfast ever in McDs. Seriously, there was an entire family in Chav uniform, even down to the blingtastic (or shite as I prefer to call them) sequin adorned baseball caps.

We then meandered our way to the train station where we bumped into more Phoenix Reprobates, then began the long, sad train ride home.

Bring on next season....This was just the warm up. Coventry, you have been warned!

And being serious for a minute, I just want to thank everyone who made the weekend so damn special:

Russ, Caz, Ang, and Nathan (Every home game, you guys make it fun)
Matt, Becky, and Paul (Damn, they were some fun times)
Mags, Brenda, Cath, Linzie, Paul, Carla, Dave, et al.
Pete C, Buzz Bee, Ashley, and far too many others (you guys make it better than the EIHL weekend).
And everyone I've forgot.
And lastly, the players of the 2009-2010 Manchester Phoenix. You exceeded our expectations, and did us proud. We'll hopefully see a lot of you guys in September.

Now THAT was a weekend to remember! (Part 1)

Ok, so the end result wasn't what we all really wanted (Well done Slough....there, I said it), but god-damn, that was a fucking awesome weekend of hockey, booze, and acting like an idiot (one of my specialities).

So, lets have a vaguely chronological rundown of what the hell happened:

Friday:

So, Friday began when I met some of my fellow reprobates (Caz, Ang, Russ, and Nathan) in the Wetherspoons on Piccadilly gardens. I was the last to arrive at 11.45, and with our train leaving at 12.27, there was just time to squeeze in a swift pint before headin on up to the train station (via Sainsburys for some 'road beers').

The trip down was eventful. We drank beer, played cards, and his our valuables when the travellers got on the train. Hell, Nathan even almost got into a fight when one of them called him 'four eyes'..which was actually damned near hilarious, given that the traveller in question was wearing a pair of glasses himself. Thankfully, before the carrige could errupt into violence (or guffaws) we had to disembark at sunny Coventry.

We then separated for a while as we went to our differing hotels. The Ramada was the hostelry of choice for myself and Russ. And what a damn fine location. A 'Scream' student pub next door, and 5 takeways opposite the hotle doors. Result. Dropped the bags off in the room, then it was swiftly on to the pub next door (the Aardvark) for a burger and beer combo. Which was damned nice for £3.75.

After that it was into Coventry itself for a bit of an explore, before settlling into 'Crosbys' for a few more beers (spotting a pattern yet, folks?).

The evening was spent exploring the bars of Coventry, including a rather interesting place inside an old church. Which was nice, if damned expensive...and beer with an ABV of 8%? YES PLEASE! After a detour to The Glasshouse (and a few apperances by the crazy move known only as 'The Fish') for a single beer split 8-ways after Brendas whipround (yes, we found even more reprobates, including Brenda, Linzie and Paul), it was on to Spon Street.

We eventually settled on the wonderful pub known as The Old Windmill. Where I headbutted a low hanging light fitting (an occupational hazard when you are over 6 and a half feet tall).

And I don't want to scare anyone, but we were all back in our hotels for about 11! I know, it's scarcely believable, but its fucking true. Pizza from over the road, then bed time for Robb and Russ (Damn, that sounds wrong).

Saturday:

So, after rising at the ungodly hour of 8am, Russ and I took a stroll around Coventry centre properly, locating the Wetherspoons pub we craved for a swift breakfast and coffee fix. Caz, Ang, and Nathan joined us at this point, and the drinking began. after we were all fed (and a bizarre incident involving a random old geezer just sitting next to me and Russ whilst we were eating), it was off to Crosbys (again), for an afternoon of beer and hockey (in that damn order).

Upon arriving at Crosbys, we set about drinking and enjoying ourselves. We were joined during the build up to the game by Ashley and his missus (whose name escapes me for the moment). For those who don't know, Ashley is 'Bud The Bison', the Basingstoke mascot, and was effectively 'on loan' tou us for the weekend, whether he wanted to be or not!

Pretty soon, people such as Tambo, Richard Allan, Brenda, et al began appearing, and for a while it was all bout the Phoenix and Bison as we pretty much took over Crosbys for an hour or two.

Comedy highlight of the build up to the first game was Tony Jones and Mikey turning up in Ed Courtenay jerseys and long, flowing blonde wigs. Naturally, much alcohol was consumed.

as for the first semi...well, it was a tepid affair if I'm honest, which I really didn't expect at all.

Then we began the final countdown towards our date with destiny. A rather fun and humerous bit of back and forth banter and chanting began in Crosbys during the wait between our very own Choir Boys, and some of the Bracknell contingent. This certainly helped relax some of the Phoenix Fans who were pretty much full of nerves at this point (and beer). Then it was time...

And we came so fucking close. Slough performed an act of robbery more audacious than even Ronnie Biggs could concieve of, managing a 2-1 win, despite being convincingy outshot. And this game was played like a paly off semi. Full of hard hits, played at a frankly stunning pace, and backed up with at time some of the loudest crowd noise I have ever heard at a hockey match. Sure, we went a quiet in the 2nd period, as nerves took hold, but the volume we generated in the 1st period, and towards the end of the 3rd was truly fucking epic. We screamed, we shouted, we sang our hearts out... but it wasn't enough.

The end of the game was a touch fractious, as when the hooter went, Andre Payette tried to get hold of one, or both of the Greener Brothers (or the little shits as I prefer to call them). Then in a move of true 'class' the Slough coach ran across the ice to his fans like he had won the fucking Stanley Cup.

Credit to the boys though, despite the fact that they were clearly all upset, Payette lined them all up for one last 'wave' before leaving the ice. And I swear he was crying (or at least damned close to doing so).

And for everyones edification, I shall now repeat what i said in the bar after the game:

FUCK. FUUUUUCK. FUUUUUUUUUCK! fuck.

AFter that there was only one course of action available... drink like there was no tomorrow (which, in a way there wasn't). o we had a beer in Crosbys, but when the door staff started letting the Chavs in, we buggered off to the Windmill, accompanied for the evening by Five Minute Majors Matt and Becky (aka Mattski93 and ladyhathaway), plus on loan Blaze fan, and writer of the Breakaway Blog, Paul Wheeler. Once firmly ensconced within the pub, we were swiftly joined by Ashley and his lovely missus (whose name I still can not fucking remember..aaarrrgh!)once more, and we set about having some fun.

And we did. There was beer, a glowing purple furry wand (which was used to dreate some truly filthy photos...they are on facebook for people to find), some glowsticks, a telling off from some Scimitars fans (they didn't like the general swearyness going on... well, tough shit, peeps), and some very nice bikers from the Coffin Scratchers Motorcycle Club). This was a truly epic night. I saw some new sights (such as a drunken Becky...now that was funny), some disturbing ones (if that truly is Pauls wanking face....ewww!), and drank a metric fuckload of beer (yes, its a real measurement).

And I think I'll detail Sundays goings on next time.

We're going to Coventry!

Oh yes.

The Phoenix are going to Coventry.

YES!

Phew, err, where was I?

Oh yes, Sundays game.

So, the Phoenix came into Sundays game on the back of a 3-3 tie in the first leg down at Potty, looking to bag a home win and an inaugural trip to the EPL Finals weekend. And they only bloody well did it! The game was possibly the most tense game I have witnessed in many seasons, with both sets of fans kept on the edge of their seats right down to the final buzzer.

Much of the game was played at a frenetic pace, with the play shifting from one zone to the other exceedingly quickly. The games highlights were a simply beautiful opening goal from the Phoenix, easily the best I have seen in the Dome. Just wait for the video. Its that fucking good. really. And the other major highlight was Payettes masive hit on MacIver in the first period. And I mean massive. If it had been an open ice hit, MacIver would have been sent flying. No shit.

And, for me, it was fitting that the GWG came from a Brit. There was something poetic about it, especially given just how well the lads had coped with the pressure (thanks to Wardells ususal standard of officiating...ie shite). And when that goal went in....jesus christ on a bike, the noise was unbelieveable. There was shouting, chanting, screaming, crying...the works. Although it was a bloody tense last couple of minutes, especially when P'Boro pulled Wall for the extra attacker.

But we fucking did it!

You might get something more coherent from me about this later in the week. I'm too happy.

The only downers to last night were Wardells piss poor officiating. Shit, the linos had to tell him to call a delay of game on P'Boro for an incredibly obvious deliberate shooting of the puck off the ice and over the plexi. And he was the same for both teams, mind. Infact, over the course of the season the only thing consistent about his calls were there inconsistency. Prick.

Oh, and the rink ran out of booze at the start of the 2nd period break. Not good management methinks.

Bring on Coventry next weekend. The Phoenix are coming to get you....