Roller hockey: the new sport of kings

Roller hockey: the new sport of kings

There’s a new sport in town, and I strongly suggest you check it
out. It involves bunches of action, monstrous amounts of
perspiration, some physical contact and a whole lot of scoring
­ but enough about my lovelife.

Da-dum-bum.

No, in reality, the new sport that’s growing faster than the Jim
Harrick bandwagon is roller hockey. It’s fast, it’s furious and
UCLA has a team, so get with it.

Actually, UCLA has three teams, all in the same league ­
one is like the varsity, another is like the junior varsity (or,
for reference sake, like Oregon State) and the other is made up of
a bunch of graduate students who have more important things to
worry about than playing competitive hockey, such as tending to
their receding hairlines.

So, as it turns out, there really is only one UCLA team when it
comes right down to it, but that shouldn’t detract you. Trust me,
this sport is worth your time.

Let’s put it this way: In my opinion, if you like ice hockey,
you’re cool, and if you don’t, you still have a chance to be cool
once you come around. It’s the sport with everything ­ grace,
speed, power and eye-hand coordination. Oh, and let’s not forget
the violence. Yes, kids, hockey is perhaps best known for (and, in
my opinion, the most exciting sport because of) its pure,
unadulterated, unbridled, un-everything violence. Hip checks. Cross
checks. Interference. All-out brawls. Big, ugly dudes without
teeth.

Appetizing, indeed.

If you’re into all that stuff ice hockey provides, you’ll love
the warm weather version, the ice hockey you can play at Venice
Beach, the best sport on wheels since the Roller Derby ­
in-line hockey. Strap on a pair of roller blades, put some knee
pads on, buy a stick and get ready to rock. Oh, and if you’re one
of those wussies, go ahead and wear a helmet.

The nine fellows on the Bruin "A" squad are forced into the
latter uniform regulation by the intercollegiate league of which
they are a part ­ the Collegiate In-line Hockey
Association.

If it sounds big-time, it should, because, well, eventually it
probably will be big-time. The grunts who founded the league and
who run it today have nice enough intentions, and it’ll probably do
some pretty decent turns come the near future ­ that is, if
you people get involved.

I’ll try to help by offering a brief introduction. First of all,
the rules: Play just like you would play if you were playing ice
hockey, except don’t hit the other dudes too hard.

And now, on to the UCLA Bruins, your heroes, the stud-muffins
who don your colors each and every week, toiling in the name of
Bruin pride, for no reward besides the satisfaction of representing
their school ­ although, I hear that the post-game reward for
those players with girlfriends is … well, we won’t get into
that.

Anyway, the roller hockey Bruins have been around since the
spring of 1994. Back then, they sucked and they knew it.

In the fall, things got a little more serious, in our words if
not in the results. We were fired up to begin the year, we held
tryouts, we got all worked up, drew up a bunch of plays and
generally went nutso. We even hired a "coach" ­ you may have
seen him around campus. Dashing young chap, flowing brown locks,
brilliant smile, bronzed skin, cut like Fabio. Goes by the name of
Eric.

(So I’ve got good self-esteem ­ so sue me.)

But even with such brilliance guiding the ship (actually, my
primary task was to call out line changes from the bench, and I had
to practice even that), we still struggled. We tried our best to
right the ship when it wavered off course, we kept together through
the rough times, we persevered and fought like champions.

Okay, we sucked. But at least it was mildly entertaining.

Major changes were needed if this spring 1995 season was going
to be as successful as our distorted minds told us it could be. So
major changes they made. Not the least of which was the
unceremonious dumping of the coach.

And the result of all the changes? Hell, they actually won a
game.

In truth, they won six, tied two others and lost nary a single
battle all season long. The Bruins had arrived.

The difference? The team’s leading scorer (just barely), John
Simon, has his theory.

"Last year we were just a bunch of spazzes," Simon said. "I
can’t even come up with one word to describe it ­ it was just
ugly."

Go ahead and say it, John, it was the coach’s fault.

Whatever the reason, this season was phenomenal. Simon ­
who proclaims himself as the team’s "7-Eleven," because "I’m always
open" (He’s actually a pretty cool guy, but I guess you’ll have to
take my word for it) ­ led the squad on the offensive end,
scoring 25 points on 10 goals and 15 assists. Those numbers barely
nudged out his linemate, Marc Romano, for the Southern Division’s
scoring title. Romano ­ who just so happens to be perhaps the
cockiest sum-bitch alive, but I still love him to death because he
attended mighty Esperanza High School ­ finished the regular
season with 24 points, including a team-leading 16 goals.

The other line is led by a brawny feller named Pat Masson, whose
nonchalant manner (it only looks like he’s not trying) belies a
deft repertoire of skills which amounted to nine goals and 20
points. Pat’s also got a bit of, how shall we put this, a bit of a
temper, let’s say. And he takes a lot of penalties. He even got us
into a brawl with USC during a 6-6 tie in the regular season. That
was pretty cool.

Up front with Masson on Line Two is Rod Kurtz (five goals, six
assists), who very possibly is the nicest young man I’ve ever met.
To be brief, Rod ain’t no Pat Masson.

Back on "D," the Bruins boast of a quartet of no-nonsense,
rough-and-tumble, grind-it-out,
beat-yo-ass-if-you-try-to-take-my-puck monsters. Jason Marincic,
the team’s captain, is probably the "pretty boy" of the group, if
only because he’s got the hottest girlfriend. Nonetheless, he’s a
gritter who never lacks for effort. He also happens to be the
person through whom I vicariously live my life, so he’d damn well
better be a stud.

Duy (as in "Dee"-fense) Quan, Jason Itri (Drink, Man, Woman),
and Pete (my name is so boring, this lame columnist can’t come up
with a nickname for me) Gray round out the boys in the back. The
goalkeeper is a promising young kid named Mike Michelena, who gave
up only 2.67 goals on average during the year.

Add it all up and you have a pretty darn good club that struck
terror into the hearts of its opponents in 1995. Not a single
blemish on the scorecard all season long. Until, that is,
Sunday.

(Notice I left this part until the end.) Yes, Sunday, the fairy
tale came to a crashing halt. The University of San Diego came to
Championship Day as a huge underdog, having taken the brunt of the
Bruin attack twice already this year. But this time, the good
fortune ran out, as the Toreros (somebody buy them a new nickname,
would you please?) prevailed in the semifinals of the league
tournament. USD jumped out to a 3-0 lead in the first period, then
watched as the Bruins stormed back to take a 4-3 edge on
consecutive goals by Simon, Masson, Masson again, and Romano.

But, alas, it was not meant to be, as USD showed a whole big
bunch of heart in returning from the dead to tie it up before
winning the doggone thing, on a shorthanded goal no less, with
about five minutes left.

I’d rather not dwell on the heart-break (as those of you who
know me can attest, I already do that enough already), but suffice
it to say, a few of the Bruins didn’t quite show up to play, and
the ones that did mostly didn’t play very well.

Oh well, I suppose the best lessons are the hardest learned.
Even in roller hockey.

So have I turned you on yet? You’re gonna show up now, right?
You’re sold on the Collegiate In-line Hockey Association and all
its splendor, correct?

Okay, how about one game (they start up again in the fall)? I
promise you’ll enjoy yourself. And besides, your admission ticket
comes with a money-back guarantee.

Yeah, so it’s free. You wanna make somethin’ of it?