BIG TAM HORNA'S YER MAN FUR HOGMANAY
I spent the afternoon of the last day of 2013 the same way I did in 2012. But with more positive emotions by the end of it. I was sat in Murrayfield Ice Rink to watch the derby match between Edinburgh Capitals and their local rivals, Fife Flyers. And, as last year, it was Tense. With a very deliberate use of the capital.
In 2012 it ended, in the final second of Overtime, with Flyers scoring a controversial winner. I walked out the doors with shoulders slumped, just like everyone else sitting on our side of the arena. But as soon as the fresh air hit me I couldn't help smiling. I'd just watched a drama of Shakespearean dimensions. Tension, uncertainty, moments of high and low emotion, supreme skill, depths plumbed, heroes and villains, a plot with twists and a veneer of reality, and that final climactic turn of the narrative. It had all you could wish for in a couple of hours of entertainment. And it had been special to be there, in spite of the gutting end result.
This year the script wasn't all that different. There was to be no domination, no clear cut indication of how the story might end. That edge of the seat uncertainty remained in place throughout, the outcome in the hands of a non existent Spielberg. The Flyers took the lead, but there was always the chance that one or other side could score. In reality there was always the chance that either team could cock up and hand their rivals an opportunity. Quality has it's place, but mistakes are the life blood of the turnover in fortunes.
As with any great tragedy there's always the comedy interlude. At the end of the first period they brought on the kids. About six to eight years old, ranging from small down to the hard to see and impossible to keep upright. Five minutes of miniature beings congregating around a lonesome puck, occasionally moving it in one direction or other, and spending a lot of time horizontal. It was hilarious, an innocent aside that took our eyes of the main plot line for a moment and deluded us into thinking that this was but a farce before our eyes. But the serious matters returned.
They extended their lead, we hit back. And then another, this time a goal of a level of skill and virtuosity that demands replays and slo-mos. And another, complete with it's own mini controversy when our man, Marcis Zembergs, raised his stick to deflect the puck goalwards. Too high whined the Fife goalie, not at all disdained the ref (a man of inconsistent decisions, a facilitator of the whims of fate in the theatre of dreams) and Caps had the lead. Silence on the Fife side of the rink, and on the feet arm waving loud mouthing chanting chorus on ours. But the writer had other ideas. By the end of the second period it was three all and we went into the last together, players, Fife fans, the Capitals faithful, anyone who might have remained neutral (eh?) and knew that it was probably going to come down to a single decisive moment.
End to end. Fast, unrelenting, taking the breath from the lungs. Step forward the Czech Tomas Horna. Big Tam. I don't think I mentioned that he had scored our first two goals. And was playing majestically. (I may be guilty of mild exaggeration at this point.) It's his first year playing in the British league. He's always appeared in his home country up until now. So it's probably the first time he's been known as Big Tam. That may not be a common phrase in Prague. But Big Tam he is now and will remain.
Big Tam scored again. Hat trick. And a one goal lead with about ten minutes left. It didn't feel like it could possibly be enough. For more than nine minutes it didn't feel like nearly enough. Flyers kept coming. Our goalie kept saving. The puck did everything but hit the back of the net. One and half minutes remain and Fife pull their goalie, throw six men forward into scoring that equalising goal. A couple of times one of our guys sent the puck back to the other end, never quite accurately enough to float between the pipes, to administer the coup de grace.
It was enough. The final seconds ran down, the Caps side of the house erupted, the Flyers slumped of. Time for the Caps Man of the Match to be announced and the chant went up, "Horna, Horna, Horna, Horna...." and the announcer duly obliged. Big Tam it was.
So many smiling faces on the way out. We're still bottom of the league, and may well remain there, but Big Tam Horna made Hogmanay his own.
Happy New Year.
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