Baby, It's Cold Inside

In the mid-1990's, the idea that minor league hockey could attract crowds in north Louisiana must have seemed presposterous. Now, as we apprach 2010, the local hockey club is in its thirteenth season and is simply part of the community. It is fair and accurate to say that the beautiful arena on the banks of the Red River simply would not exist if minor pro hockey had not come to town. The availability of a primary tenant was the catalyst for the construction of the building, which has been a tremendous community asset.
As a local sports journalist, I closely followed the arrival of the team and its early days in the less-than-appealing fairgrounds venue, Hirsch Coliseum. When the team's original owner started making noise about building his own hockey facility, local goverments noticed. Bossier City's leaders brandished their checkbook and something spectacular happened.
I have spent many an afternoon and evening in the facility, so much so that I am flabbergasted when I hear people say they have never been inside. Those are people who just don't get out much, I guess. Concerts, Arena Football, big-time bass fishing, religious revivals, graduations, cheerleading competitions and yes hockey attract tens of tousands of visitors to the place every year. Did I mention rodeos and wrestling matches? How about basketball or mixed martial arts? I have seen all of these things inside that place. How can you not have found at least one thing to compel you to visit?
One of the most memorable experiences of my broadcasting career happened right there. Legendary rock band ZZ Top played the arena. I was fortunate to be assigned to interview them live on the news the night before their show. They invited me to stay for rehearsal. I sat in the arena with about a half-dozen other people and essentially enjoyed a mini private concert. To borrow a rock and roll phrase: Dude, it was awesome!
I've been all over the building: the press box, the video room, the green room, the luxury boxes, you name it. As a broadcaster, a ticket holder, even as a volunteer when the facility has been used as an emergecy shelter during hurricane evacuations, I have strolled the concourses as well as the catacombs.
But until Satuday night, I had never stood at center ice.
The honor of dropping the puck before a hockey game was bestowed upon me. It's the hockey equivalent of baseball's first pitch. They even rolled out a red carpet. For a moment, I was some kind of dignitary. I also got to sit in the penalty box with the team's owner.
There's a lot less pressure involved in a puck drop that a first pitch. You don't have to throw anything sixty feet, you just need to stand there and drop the puck. Pretty simple stuff. The trick is not to slip on the ice. I guess that's what the carpet's all about.

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Reapplying for My Man Card

Having spent the previous weekend in the company of my two favorite women doing decidedly non-manly things, Super Bowl weekend presents itself as an opportunity to muscle my way back to the masculine coordinates on the gender axis.
Saturday was spent enjoying a local sports twin bill: college basketball in the afternoon and hockey at night. Centenary College boasts an NCAA Division 1 athletic program, but hardly anyone notices. It is the smallest school in the NCAA's most prominent level of competition, which could be a badge of honor for the school and the community. It has sent two players, Robert Parish and Larry Robinson, to the NBA. Both earned league championship rings. Parish has five of them , in fact. Now, the city has essentially forgotten about the Gents although there was a nice crowd on hand for this game against Oral Roberts University. If Centenary's team could find a way to win consistently, it could capture the area's imagination. We really have something special here. People just need a reason to drive into the heart of the city and experience it.
Conversely, the minor league hockey team seems to be thriving. For more than a decade, the Mudbugs have attracted impressive crowds. On an ordinary Saturday night in January, traffic leading into the arena was so significant that police shut down nearby traffic lights to manage the flow themselves. It seemed like a special event, and I suppose an argument can be made that it was. The team wins consistently and seems to always be in contention for its league championship. It gives people something to cheer about which is always a good thing. This was the first game I've attended this season. It was a pleasant way to spend an evening.
It did get me into a little pinch with my bride. There was a show downtown at the same time featuring Broadway stars singing memorable numbers from the Great White Way. She really wanted to go to that. We had dropped a chunk of change on the lodge and the spa the weekend before. The hockey game cost significantly less than the theater. Faced with the prospect of paying bills this weekend, that got her attention. Broadway can wait. Manhood sufficiently reasserted, I can strap in now for the last football game of the season.

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Good Friday Hockey

Darrell and Clawed
Originally uploaded by darebouche

A well-rounded citizen of Shreveport-Bossier must attend a hockey game. It dawned on me this afternoon that the Mudbugs' season is just about finished and I had not been to a game all season. This was completely unacceptable, so we went about the business of rectifying that situation.
I went all out, representing with my Mudbugs cap and, of course, tracking down the mascot for a photo. These games actually are a lot of fun, accentuated by the culture created by the fans. Thousands of people doing the same cheers after their team scores, dancing in unison and generally carrying on can induce anything from a grin to a belly laugh.
Our team has the best record in the Central Hockey League. Our coach is the CHL coach of the year and the team has home-ice advantage throughout the playoffs. Woo-Hoo!
Who says there's nothing to do around here? Concerts, symphony, comedy shows, casinos and hockey. We're busy!
All that and Arena Football starts next week.
Or, we could stay home with a Netflix movie and a bag of store brand microwave popcorn.
Go Bugs.

The excellent photo of CHL coach of the year Scott Muscutt is by Val Horvath of the Shreveport Times.

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