The smile remains

 

IF CARLSBERG DID SATURDAYS...

I woke up smiling this morning. Not for the reasons you might think, if you're have a sordid turn of mind. No, this was a memory, a very recent memory, but one that has had me grinning every day since when I remember the perfect storm that came my way. Saturday 7 March 2026 was a good one.

On Friday I'd given Daffy a good clean in preparation for her big day out, and the chance to meet some of her family. On Saturday morning she emerged into the sunshine, the roof was flipped back, and we made our way across the city to the southern reaches. Swanston golf club. There to join the line up above. 14 2CV cars, and one van. In the (almost) 2 years we've had her she's only once encountered a familiar, and that very briefly. And here she was in a convoy of these weird little upturned prams, making our way down into the city centre, and across to Murrayfield. To be cheerfully received by the crowds making their way to the stadium, especially the French amongst them. Cheers, shouts, smiles, laughs and thumbs up came our way. Fun for us, fun for them.

If that had been the end of the day it would still have been memorable. But at home we sat and watched the match they'd all been walking towards, and an unexpected thriller it was. Scotland taking apart the championship favourites in stylish fashion, running in 7 tries against one of the world's best defences, making the world's greatest #9 look ordinary on the day. Elation.

Not finished yet. After eating, Daffy took us back to Murrayfield, and we went into the rink this time. Caps were playing Kirkcaldy Kestrels, our big local rivals. A 5-1 win was a good way to end the day. But with the added frisson that this leaves us needing just 1 point from our final 3 games, which would make us league champions. A special feeling, after 3 years of finishing in second. The title could (should?) be ours on the twenty first of this month.

3 special moments in one day. No wonder I'm still smiling. And yet I haven't mentioned the little cherry on top. Checking social media and seeing the Six Nations result in Rome. OK, a little schadenfreude isn't always something to be proud of, but... who can resist a wee grin when they hear the English have lost 3 in a row? Not me.

You don't get many days like that. ☺️

Thirty Days in September

THE FINAL DAYS, THE FINAL THOUGHTS

Two more days to pick a Thing for, and a chance to think about what I've written over this series of posts.  Is there anything meaningful to be drawn from the process, either of myself or for others?  Well I can only speak for myself, so I leave the latter to you.

Monday 29 September.  The day passed with writing and reading and walking and shopping (only for food) and cleaning the flat.  No pilates again this week.  But the highlight came in the evening, going up into town and down into Waverely Station.  Barbara's return.  Good to have her back again.  I was never lonely while she was away, and we talked on video every day, but having her back is always an improvement.

Tuesday.  A day of the mostly mundane.  I picked up my big bag of prescription pills from the pharmacy.  We went out in the evening to a successful, but largely boring, AGM for the housing estate we live on.  So my 'Thing' for the day is a bit different, as it's about the future.  We had already planned to go down to Preston in November, because there is a Wallace and Gromit exhibition on, and we've always been fans of the plasticine pair.  The one night trip extended to two when we heard that an old friend's band is playing as a support act in Southport the night before we'd planned to go.  And that they were supporting an American duo I've become a fan of in recent years.  One of the best things in life is having things to look forward to...

So that was my month, or at least a few highlights from it.  A lot of the ordinary and mundane is missing.  The efforts to hit a decent step count each day. The regular visits to supermarkets (usually Lidl...), because we eat fresh fruit for breakfast each day and we're always running out of one or another berry or citrus or whatever.  The TV dramas we binge watch in the evenings.  And, since last Xmas, the shared fun of building Lego sets.

You hear of people feeling a bit lost when they retire.  The structure and routine that work provided is gone and they find that hard to replace.  Humans need some structure in life.  People like excitement and novelty, but also need a framework that provides reassurance and a sense of purpose.  My life now provides sufficient of that. Weekly classes and volunteering.  Seasonal entertainment and sport.  The festival month of August.  But also the additions to the routine, like trips away, cinema visits, outings in Daffy.  

It feels like I should end this series of posts with some kind of message, a life lesson or nugget of truth.  I'm not sure I really have one, or maybe I just scared of sounding pretentious.  But I'll have a go, and finish on that.

Contentment lies in the joys of small things.

Seven days in September (#2)

WEEK 2

The third in my series of six posts trying to give some idea of what this pensioner's life is like on a day to day basis.

Monday 8 September.  Back to pilates, followed by eating cake in the Leith sunshine.  That's a good day right there.  Even if the plumber didn't turn up...

Tuesday.  A Play, a Pie and a Pint is back at the Traverse, and this was the first of six we'll be going to see.  Wallace was a Scottish hip-hop musical, far removed from our usual fare, but hugely entertaining and leaving a lot room for thought about the myths we create as nations.  I also spent a couple of hours in the garage, giving Daffy a clean and a check over, ready for her outing later in the week.

Wednesday.  The pilates class was again enjoyable, and I even got a compliment from someone who had just joined and was impressed by how easy it looked for me (she's easily impressed... this is the beginners class!).  Then on to my voluntary role.  Earlier this year I became a volunteer befriender to a woman in a wheelchair, and we get along well.  Normally we'd go to a cafe, but she wasn't feeling up to it so we sat in her flat chatting and laughing.  

Thursday.  A Daffy the 2CV day.  And, in other news, our wedding anniversary.  A drive to the south west on the A701, a visit to the Gretna outlet village and a stay in the Star Hotel in Moffat - allegedly the narrowest detached hotel in the world.  Our room certainly went the full width, but it was a good size.  (A family room with a double and two singles, for reasons we didn't enquire about...)

Friday.  More Daffiness.  Good fun coaxing her up the steep bendy road away from Moffat, and taking photos of the spectacular scenery in that area.  NIce cafe stop in Biggar, then home through the rain.  We must do some more of those nights away.

Saturday.  Easy to choose which of this day's 3 Things was the one to remember.  Out to Murrayfield Ice Arena to see Caps play and win their first league match of the season, a 4-1 vicrtory over Solway.  More of the same please.

Sunday.  I know I should choose the video call with our old friends as the highlight of the day.  However Scotland played England in the quarter final of the RWC.  Clear underdogs, we were well beaten.  So where's the highlight?  With the clock in the red our women finally got over the line, a beautiful score from Rhona Lloyd.  Beaten yes, giving up never.

A week as atypical as week 1, in that this time there something going on every day, with a trip away trhown in.  Maybe there is no such thing as 'typical'?

There's nothing to moan about

 

YOU'RE SCOTTISH

It hurt. It hurt a lot at the time, and we all wanted it just to be over. But you could see it hurt for them too, far more than it did for us. And to suggest otherwise is ludicrous.

I'm talking about the Scottish Cup Final, in ice hockey, between Caps and Aberdeen Lynx. We went in with eager faces, and left with tails drooping. The northerners scored within 30 seconds and then kept on coming. By the end it was 9-3 and the only consolation was that the Lynx fans didn't get the double figures they were chanting for. It was a sad end to our season.

But then the moaners started on social media. The players were embarrassing, they weren't trying, they didn't care, why had we bothered going up to Dundee...etc, etc.  And, in some way, that was the worst bit. Because it clearly wasn't true, and why do that on a public forum where the players or their families or friends can see? The team needs our support in loss as well as victory.

Two years ago this team didn't even exist. In their first season they fell out of both Cup and Playoffs at the quarter final stage (1st round!), but finished a close second in the league title race. They brought in crowds of over a thousand regularly. They proved that they could beat any team in the league on their day, and created expectations in the fanbase. They gave people hope, which I wrote about last March.

For longstanding Caps fans this was a revelation. OK, so we were no longer in the EIHL, the top level of pro hockey in the UK, but in the much lower level Scottish National league. It was a bit slower to watch, less skilful. But that was soon forgotten. Firstly because we had 'our' team back on the ice again. Secondly, because, unlike the EIHL days, we were competitive, in a league where almost everyone else was too. Matches were exciting, unpredictable. Entertaining. Hence the bigger crowds. ('Old' Caps struggled to get much more than 700 people through the doors.)

In only their second season they again finished a close second in the league, so they remained as  competitive. They also took part in a new, smaller competition called the Northern League, which mixed 3 SNL teams in with one from the NIHL (a, in theory, higher level league), the Blackburn Hawks. And Caps took the trophy. In the SNL playoffs they took another bit of silver away, winning the final. And, as we already know, one week later finished runners up in the Cup. The signs of improvement from last year are obvious. Oh, and the crowds are even bigger now, topping two thousand on one occasion.

So, far from being the disappointment that that final game gave rise to, this was a season of triumphs, of expectations raised even higher, of trophies in the cabinet. And promising a Season 3 that could, should, see further upwards progress.  Even that final trip was memorable, being part of another huge crowd for the SNL, sharing the experience with others.  And we got to give Daffy a run.  (Who's Daffy? - that's for the next post...)

Finally, to all those who had a go at the team for that final game - you're Scottish, aren't you? If, by now, you aren't used to teams that sometimes turn in utterly underwhelming performances then can you call yourself a true Scot?

Where does the time go?

 

THE OTHER NIGHT I WENT FOR A MASSAGE

Not the whale music kind, and definitely not the happy ending type. This was more your "two steps removed from sadistic torture" kind of massage. Something I've been having every few weeks in the hope that they, and my sudden conversion to pilates, will help ease the back pains I have been having for several months. My regular manipulator being away for a few weeks, I had a new guy giving my back the treatment, and finding his own ways to make me experience pains I didn't know I had. Lovely man, from Dundalk, and we chatted as he rubbed and pummelled away at me. He asked that question that so many people do when you're retired - "What do you do with yourself?"

To which my first response is usually "What the hell do I do with myself?". Because I never seem to do much, and yet the days are full and I'm never bored. So I thought I'd look back at the month just ending to see if it offered up any clues.

September's always a month with a bit going on anyway. The Fringe has just ended, and live entertainment switches to sport, and the theatre. Hockey and Rugby begin, and it's time for another season of A Play, a Pie and a Pint. There's our wedding anniversary, and Barbara's birthday. Oh, and I've got into the habit of helping out a bit on the Advocard stall on the day of the Edinburgh Volunteer Fair.

This specific September added in a march in support of Scottish Indy, a short city break, a brief period alone at home, and a music gig. That's a fair bit of time accounted for already. But there's still a lot left...

So what do I do with the rest of the time? I wish I knew.  I sit at my PC and write things.  I look at smaller screens and get annoyed with the idiots of the world (definitely trying to cut back on that one).  I read.  Play with the cat.  Usually a bit of voluntary work.  A weekly pilates class, immediately offset by cake in a nearby cafe.  TV in the evenings.

And... exist in my own head.  It's a place where I've always been able to spend a lot tiome.  Maybe from being an only child, more likely from being naturally unsociable.  I didn't tell him that bit.

Isnt it a bit warm for this?

 

Previous posts mentioned being back Murrayfield ice rink to watch the return of the Edinburgh Capitals. The season has been over for a couple of months now, and won't return until September. But at least there's still been events to follow. The same coach remains in place. Most of the top players have signed up for next season, plus a couple of new faces. Sadly my personal favourite has returned to Germany, but you can't have everything. We still look like having a team that, once again, should be challenging for silverware. More to the point, we have another season of hockey to go to, after so many away from the sport.

But, unlike previous years, there's a new aspect to the off season. Murrayfield ice rink has been converted into Murrayfield roller rink (and has had a decent paint job to spruce it up). That's kept the punters coming through the door. And offered up the chance to see a another variation on sport, but still with Caps playing. Inline roller hockey.

We missed out on the first match due to another commitment (which was a shame, as it sounded like a thriller, Caps beating Dundee Tigers 7-6), but went to our first game today. Playing against Whitley Bay Sea Kings, this would prove an easier challenge for the home side, ending up 13-4 in our favour. So maybe not the most competitive of games.

But it was still fascinating, to be seeing the similarities and differences in relation to the 'normal' hockey that is our standard diet there. The skills are broadly similar, as is some of the equipment, and the rotating bench of players. There's one few player on the ice for each side, only one official, and the pace is slower. Rules are simpler too, with no offsides, no icing (or equivalent), no heavy body hits. There was only one brief fight, tame in comparison with those it's icy companion throws up, and provided the only penalties of the game. The clock continues to run down, even when a goal is scored, so the periods are much shorter. throw in the removal of Zamboni time and the roller game is over in an hour or more less than the blade one. If the overall spectacle is a bit less exciting than the winter games, it was still a fun watch.

But the biggest difference was in being a spectator, and not just because there were a lot fewer of us. It was the novelty of sitting in the rink, looking at my bare arms, and wondering where my usual five layers of clothing had got to. On what was one of the hottest days we've had this year, it was a relief to come in out of the sun to a place that was considerably cooler than being outdoors. But not so cool that you couldn't sit there comfortably in shorts and tee. This is not something I will be repeating once September arrives, and that interior gets back it's usual title - Freezerfield.

Sometimes it's good to be disappointed

 

ENJOYING THE DISAPPOINTMENT

Back in November I wrote about being back at Murrayfield Ice Rink (now renamed Murrayfield Ice Arena) and being able to watch 'our' team again, the Edinburgh Capitals.  I wrote about the sense of belonging, and the return of those old feelings of hope and disappointment that came with being a Caps fan.  Now I write, a few hours before the final match of the league season, about how disappointing last night was.  And how much I savour that sense of disappointment.

Four months ago we were watching a team that was largely comprised of ageing veterans and inexperienced teenagers.  A team playing it's first home match because, up until then, they'd had no ice to call home.  Who'd had to cross the water over to Mordor (aka Fife) for their first training sessions.  Who'd played all their early league matches on away rinks.  Who'd had their first home match postponed due to technical issues, so that their first experience of skating out on Murrayfield's ice would be to play the league leaders.  (In front of a far bigger crowd than many of our youngsters had encountered before, which they initially found quite daunting.)  It was good to be back, good to have a team to support, and there were no great expectations.

If, back then, you'd have told me that we were going to finish second in the league, and that we'd be in the hunt for the league title until the final few minutes of the second last match, on the final weekend, I'd have bitten your hand off.  I don't think I'd have believed you.  Why raise such unrealistic hopes?  But here I am, feeling disappointed that the team couldn't quite manage it.  And savouring that disappointment.

Because to be disappointed you have to have had hope.  Which is something this team have given us.  Back in 2018, when we were last able to watch the Caps perform, 'hope' was largely defined as "let's hope we don't get totally gubbed this weekend".  The standard of hockey might be a bit lower than it was back then, but the standard of hope has been raised considerably.  A few weeks ago we were in a position where, if we won all our remaining league matches we'd be champions.  That hope was fully kindled when Barbara and I travelled up to Aberdeen and watched our guys beat Lynx, those aforementioned league leaders.  Then we lost to that same Lynx at home.  But hope returned, as both teams, went on a losing streak, and suddenly the outcome of the season came down to one more game up in the north east.  So important a match that Aberdeen even put on a live stream, for the first time in SNL history.  And hope burst into life when we took an early lead.  Only to be dashed in the closing moments, as we went down to a 3-2 loss.  A deflating moment, yes, but this morning I can enjoy my disappointment.

Tonight the Caps play North Ayrshire Wild, a team who've only won two games all season.  It's now a meaningless fixture, in terms of league positions, but it's still hockey, it's another chance to cheer on our team and enjoy the spectacle.  It will, hopefully, bring another big crowd to Freezerfield, and the size and passion of the support has been another big surprise of the season, with numbers exceeding fifteen hundred at times.  It will be fun.

It's not quite the end either.  The final league positions are used to determine the seeding for the end of season playoffs, and Caps will have a quarter final against Kilmarnock Thunder.  Win that, and we'll be into the Playoffs Weekend, being held at Murrayfield on 8th and 9th of April.  Another chance to win some silverware.  Another chance to hope.  And maybe, this time, skip that sense of disappointment...?

A good goodbye to 2022

 HAPPY HOGMANAY HOCKEY

There have been a lot of aspects of 2022 to be unhappy about, from both a personal and wider point of view.  Some of the personal I've documented here previously.  More widely the greatest worry I see is the steady growth of the far right in our society, which appears to have been boosted on Twitter by the takeover of the idiot Musk.  

So it's good to end the year on a proper high note.  I've written before about the return of Edinburgh Capitals into our lives and the pleasure of going back to be hockey fans.  Since that first post on the subject the team has improved, the results have started to come, and we're up into the top half of the league, still with a couple of games in hand.  But it's the experience that counts, the lows and highs and tension and excitement and being part of something bigger for a few hours.  Back in the day the highlight of the season was always the Hogmanay game against local rivals Fife Flyers, when our ageing freezer of a building saw the biggest and noisiest crowd of the year.  Now, playing at a lower level of the sport, the local rivals still come from the same rink in Fife, but now it's the Kirkcaldy Kestrels we face.  

Caps v Kestrels, Hogmanay, and, once again, by far our biggest crowd of the year, probably close of even over four figures.  Lots of new people coming along, hopefully with many to return.  That possibility greatly helped by a thriller of a match.  Not many goals, but end to end stuff, great performances from both goalies, and a superb goal to settle the matter.  twice Caps came back from being a goal down, and it was two apiece at the end of regulation time.  And so we went into the nerve shredding period that is three on three sudden death overtime.  Cue our captain, Joel Gautschi, who tipped in a floated lob of shot from the new guy (first match today) Ryan McFarlane.  The poor keeper didn't stand a chance and suddenly there were lots of happy Caps fans.

If that isn't enough to win us some new supporters...

I'm pleased I also decided to give a first airing to my worst-taste old Caps shirt, the Xmas special of 2017.  And that it won't come out of the cupboard again until next Hogmanay.  Happy New Year folks!

The lion in the freezer

 BACK IN THE FRIDGE

When we first moved up (and in my case back) to Edinburgh the dominant element of our winter social life was in Murrayfield Ice Rink.  From September until March there would be few weekends when we wouldn't be in our regular seats, shouting on the Caps, and getting to know more and more people in the crowd.  But after March '18 there was no more Caps to go and support.  They lost their contract for the ice time at the rink, and were replaced by Murrayfield Racers.  We did try a couple of visits to see the latter, but it wasn't the same.  I knew too much about the way their management, and that of the rink, had gone about things and it neve sat well with me.  I couldn't become a Racers fan.

In 2020 the rink closed due to lockdown, and thereafter failed to reopen, due to a combination of technical and financial problems.  This summer brought the surprise move that not only would it be opening, but the new owners were involved with the Edinburgh Capitals, and they would be back on the ice for the 22/23 season.  Not at the same pro level they had been back in the old days, but in Scottish National League.  A lower, slower standard of hockey.  But still hockey.  And still our team.

For various reasons there were delays in getting the rink operating again.  The team had to travel to train and play only away matches.  But they were back, and starting to win some games.  We went up to Dundee to see one match and enjoyed what we saw.  But it's never the same as being at home.  Last night reminded us why.

We wondered what sort of crowd would turn up.  If there would be anything like the same enthusiasm and passion that the fans had always brought, even when they were watching defeat after defeat.  If the spectacle would be as engrossing, and emotionally involving, as it had been.  And if they really still were 'our' Caps.

There was, it was, and they were.  I don't know the numbers, but that was one of the biggest crowds I've ever seen at a hockey match in The Fridge of Dreams.  The crowd were behind the team, and there was still the same emotional connection.  It'll take me a few games to be able to immediately recognise all our players.  I can happily accept that the standard of play is lower than that which we'd once been used to, because there's still that sense of involvement in the game itself.  That feeling of being a part of something greater than yourself.  Belonging.

There have been a lot of improvements to the place itself, but mostly it remains the old barn we both laughed at and loved.  The same old rickety seating, the same dodgy PA system, and, very definitely, the same temperature that earned it the name Freezerfield.  And, for this game, same old Caps.  Looking like they were going to get hammered, suddenly generating a surge of hope, and ultimate disappointment.  From 0-5 down they got back to 3-5, and all seemed possible again.  Until the next goal.  It ended 4-6.  Against the league leaders, so we can't complain too much.  There will be wins coming soon...

2018, not all bad

SOME BEST BITS

2018 - what was that all about, eh?  Probably not a year that history will look back on kindly.  The orange man-baby stayed in the White House, his behaviour becoming ever more bizarre and alarming.  At least the US has a constitution that manages to contain the worst excesses of the wannabe dictator, but has Brazil?  The election of a brutal, homophobic misogynist takes the Trump trend a dangerous step forward.  Meanwhile the UK does it's best to compete with America as leading international laughing stock as the farce of brexit continued to display the embarrassing incompetence of UKGov and aggressive vacuity of the brexshiteers.  Scotland remains in the grip of a regime for which it did not vote and dismisses every issue it raises, the union feels more broken by the day.  And if the far right is now a major threat to world stability it still takes place to the potential catastrophe of climate change - which brings us right back to the culpability of that corrupt crook in Washington....

So I'm going to indulge myself and look back at some personal highlight from a year that saw me go to 38 music gigs, 29 dramas or musicals, 27 comedy shows, 27 films on the big screen, and 1 poetry evening.  I like to keep busy.  And Edinburgh does insist on running all these festivals!  Oh, and I managed to get through 54 books.  So my way of having a more cheerful look at the recent 365 day period is to think back on what were my highlights in all that entertainment.  And maybe a couple of disappointments.

Starting with best new music discovery.  That one doesn't take a second's thought because The Kinnaris Quintet, first seen in February and again in November, could count me as a fan from their opening number.  Their first album, Free One, is superb and has had many plays Chez Crawford, they have stage presence to back up the musicianship and imagination of their arrangements, and a couple of brief chats suggest they're pretty nice people as well.  More in 2019 please.

Best play wasn't nearly as obvious, with some excellent candidates like McGonagall's Chronicles, Ken, Infinita and the surprising Sob Story.  But I'll go for Still Alice not just for the quality of the performances and the staging, but for tackling such a tricky subject so well.

My favourite film was one of only two documentaries I went to see.  But Nae Paseran! has characters, storyline, excitement, humour and pathos to match any drama, as well as an important political message.  Going back to my opening paragraph, this film is a powerful reminder than even small actions can have big consequences in the fight against the rise of neofascism.

I'd like to have chosen someone new to me for my favourite comedy act, but none really stand out in my memory.  Honourable mention to the very entertaining Iain F M Smith who I'd happily go to see again, but he's perhaps more storyteller than actual comedian.  So I'll go for the man who made me laugh like no other all year, the surreal ragdoll that is Dylan Moran.  I'll add a mention for two local acts that rival, when measured in chuckles, giggles and guffaws, the best the Fringe has to offer - Stu and Garry and Morrison/Sutherland that goes by the name of Fanny's Ahoy!.  Who needs the big names?

It's become our habit to leave the final day of the Fringe free of bookings, and go up to the Half Price Hut to choose a couple of random shows.  We ended with a musical called Trump'd which, sadly, was probably the biggest disappointment of our August.  But that was trumped by the most enjoyable surprising discovery of the year, Where the Hell is Bernard? performed by Haste Theatre Group.  Weird and wonderful and utterly memorable.  Still makes me laugh when I think of them going down the "escalator"....

My favourite read was by far the oldest text I tackled this year.  You know those books you buy and they go on the bookshelves waiting (and waiting and waiting) until the moment you feel ready to tackle them?  So it was with Don Quixote.  As with so many books pre-twentieth century it means persevering through the first thirty to fifty pages while your head adjusts to the author's mindset and language.  Once over that hump you're in a different world, surely a major objective in reading fiction.  The society described might be very different to our own, but the frailties, cruelties, kindnesses and love of humans are very familiar.  Plus it's laugh out loud funny at times.

Some oddities to end on.  Biggest disappointment of the year was the demise of my beloved Edinburgh Capitals.  No more hockey, for the moment, and much as I'm enjoying discovering the pleasures of rugby spectating it's still no real substitute for what was lost.

Best personal achievement was completing the fifteen and half miles of Kiltwalk  in what I felt was a respectable time for my advancing years.  Not just for managing the course, but the pleasures I got from the practice walks I went on and wearing a kilt after so many decades.

I'll end on the most special surprise of the year.  Going to see that lovely, lovely man Henry Normal and finding he'd written a poem for our 21st wedding anniversary.

Well done 2018.  There's always joy out there to be found, and sometimes it's in as simple as putting one foot in front of the other.  In a skirt.

What is this strange thing called Success?

WINNING ISN'T EVERYTHING

As I wrote a couple of months ago, I've started going to spectate at Edinburgh Rugby home games.  After several years spent watching in the rink next door the comparisons are becoming interesting.  I've only been to four games so far, but the most striking differences become obvious quickly.

Compared to hockey the oval ball game feels much slower, the action more distant and less inherently skilful (they don't have to do all that they do perched on narrow blades across a slippery surface, do they?).  And while the Fridge of Dreams was a chilly place to sit for a few hours it was, at least, consistently chilly, and dry, so you knew exactly what to dress for.  Finally I miss the "Cheers" aspect of going to the rink, it did feel like a place "where everybody knows your name".

But then there are the pros too.  I'm watching a much higher level of the sport than I got to see next door, with many of the players on the pitch likely to be heading for Japan in September/October, when the World Cup takes place.  The whole operation is so much more professional, so much more twenty first century, from the big TV screens to the PA that's so clear you can actually make out what's being said.  And five, six, seven thousand people make a lot more noise than five, six, seven hundred.  (Even if the chants are nowhere near as entertaining....)

But the biggest difference of all is a simple one, and still takes the most getting used to.  Edinburgh Rugby win matches.  Regularly.  Supporting Caps was never like this.  I could almost wish I get to see them lose just to have that old feeling back again.  But only almost.

Rediscovery or Reinvention?

DECADES APART

I went to see a rugby match last Friday.  Edinburgh versus Scarlets.  And a couple of weeks ago when the city's team played Toulon.  Nothing remarkable about that, there were a few thousand other people there too.  But it felt a bit like going back in time.  That game against the French side was the first fifteen a side match I'd been to in well over thirty years, so it had a sense of occasion for me, a kind of homecoming.  And, better still, I enjoyed it.  The fact that Edinburgh had a big win might have had something to do with that though.

I first went to watch an international at Murrayfield on 4th February 1967.  Scotland beat Wales 11-5, and I was ten.  By and large I've not really been a big sports fan over the decades, but I was hooked, back then, on the big rugby occasions, and over the following years I didn't miss a home international match.  Including the 1975 game against the Welsh when a record crowd of 104,000 were crammed into a stadium with a nominal 80,000 capacity.  Cosy, and we beat Wales that day too.  After that you had to buy a ticket in advance to get in.  By the time 1979 arrived I'd been to see plenty of club matches, sevens tournaments and to see Edinburgh play in the inter-district championship.

Then I moved south; way, way south, to the Hampshire coast, and getting to Murrayfield required a bit more time and planning.  I still made it to most of the Five Nations home games for a few years, including the Grand Slam winner in '84 (great occasion, dour spectacle).  But then I was married, work was more demanding, life changed and I didn't get up as often.  I'd watch the games on telly, saw our guys win another Slam in '90, and then found my interest starting to wane.  Rugby Union was turning professional and with the increase in money came a much more drilled and calculating approach to the game.  Defences became dominant and entertainment levels dropped.  By the mid nineties I'd stopped watching.  I was left as a fascinated follower of motorsport, and little else.

Move on a couple of decades and I'd dropped the motorsport.  Change is good.  I'd discovered something completely new.  Maybe I'd seen a few hockey matches in the Winter Olympics coverage, but had little idea of what was going on.  Looked interesting  though.  So when, seven years ago, the chance of cheap tickets to see Edinburgh's team came along we thought we'd try it out.  And loved it.  It would be another three years before we were full time city residents, but we got to as many games as possible, started to get some feel for the sport, started to know a few people at the rink, started to feel a part of the community.  We got in four full seasons when we finally moved here permanently.  I was an Edinburgh Capitals season ticket holder and secretary of the Supporters Club.  Our weekends from September to March contained a predictable element, a chance to shout, cheer, get on the emotional rollercoaster of live sport and support.  Then, last April, that was suddenly taken away from us, and it seems like there's no going back (but that's a story for another day). 

Could anything replace that sense of belonging, the excitement, the passions you feel as part of a crowd willing a team on.  One thing that hasn't changed over the decades is the sense of tedium I get from watching football, so that was never an option.  But a bit more than four years ago I'd been watching TV alone, when a rugby match came on.  Argentine versus Scotland.  I was tempted to watch, just to see if anything had changed.  And when the name John Beattie was announced as one of the team I felt I had to give it a go - I'd seen his dad playing for our country! 

They've tweaked the rules a lot since the nineties, and for the better it seems.  That match was genuinely entertaining (and again it probably helped that Scotland ended up as winners!) and I thought I'd give a few more a try (no pun intended).  The five nations were now six, the strips look almost futuristic compared to the looser items I recall, all the spectators get to sit down, and the players go off at half time instead of standing in the middle of the pitch sucking on a bit of orange.  (Yes, that was how it used to be done, even in top level internationals.)  It helped that once exposed to this new spectacle Barbara developed a bit of an interest too.

So going to watch Edinburgh ('my' Edinburgh?) seems like a natural progression, given the loss of my regular entertainment next door (Murrayfield ice rink is, often literally, in the shadow of the rugby stadium).  And after the Caps disastrous final season (only five wins from fifty six league games....) it's good to go and support a side that goes into each game with a chance of winning.  There's a friendly atmosphere, big screens to watch when the action gets a bit distant (I do miss the intimacy of the hockey rink), and it's pretty cheap for us seniors.  And no colder than sitting in the Fridge of Dreams next door.  This could be habit forming.

Football vs.... a proper sport

RESPECT

Feeling a bit weary when I came home, I did something I rarely do.  Sat on the sofa and turned on the telly in the hope of finding something interesting.  There might be a decent tennis match on. 

Instead I found myself watching a bit of that world cup thingy that's on for the next few months - sorry, weeks.  On.  And on.  And on.....

It must be several decades since I consciously sat down to watch a football game.  (Was there a world cup in '94, I seem to remember doing the ironing while something was on?).  But this only had about 15 minutes to go, so I thought I'd try to figure out what all the fuss was about.  And came away with new found admiration for those hardy souls who will be sitting watching this stuff for days on end.  How have they mastered the art of coping with that much tedium?

I watched those 15 minutes (and by "watched" I mean "looked up from my tablet screen whenever the commentators seemed to get a bit shoutier") and was mostly struck by just how slow it all was.  At the end the 'experts' (I think one of them might have been Gary Lineker, but as I didn't see a packet of crisps I couldn't be sure) felt a need to go over it all and reassure us what a great game it had been (really?!).  To me it felt like the only excitement was that the underdog had won, something I'm all too used to identifying with.

What I saw were players walking about, occasionally some will break into a trot, maybe even a bit of actual running when the shoutiness levels were up.  They are kicking around an object pretty much as big as their own heads, trying to hit a target that's about the size of a large barn door laid on it's side.  While walking/running on a nice flat grassy surface.  In shoes specially designed for walking and running on flat grassy surfaces.  And nothing much happens except they kick it to each other for a bit, then the other lot do it, and occasionally, at the shouty bits, it gets a bit nearer one of those barn doors, which they then proceed to miss.  Sometimes, if they are feeling particularly energetic, the ball can be end to end in.... what, about 30 seconds?  And that's the exciting bit.  Have I missed anything out?

Trouble is, after several seasons I'm now too used to watching hockey.  Where the players can be moving up to 25mph, the 3 inch diameter puck gets up to around 100mph, and play is end to end in less than 5 seconds, all the time wielding a big stick like it's a part of themselves.  Where the target is only 6 feet by 4 and there's guy in the way with another big stick and a lot of padding.  Where, if the puck is in play, something is happening and nobody is fannying about hitting it back and forward in the middle.  Where, despite the tiny size of the goal, players find creative ways to get that lump of rubber flying into the net.

Oh, and did I mention they do all this on contact points 1/8 of an inch wide, on a surface most of us would struggle to stand up on?

So well done all you footy fans, feeling content with a second rate alternative to a proper team sport, I don't know how you do it....

From Fringe to Fridge

MUSIC, FILM, COMEDY AND... HOCKEY

Monday - Fringe came to an end, and we fitted in a final couple of shows courtesy of the half price hut.  Tuesday - Return to the Fridge of Dreams, and a first chance to see some of the new players that will make up the Edinburgh capitals team this season.  Monday - Hot, sweaty rooms that have you wringing your shirt out.  Tuesday - Cold, cold and more cold.  Icy ice rink.

Contrasts.  Next Sunday I can indulge in the Asian exoticism of The Edinburgh Mela during the day, and the chilled and pie scented air of Murrayfield in the evening.  Life is never boring here.

I see some of my fellow Caps fans on social media over the summer, wishing their lives away until the rink opens it's doors and there's a puck getting battered about again.  That's not a problem I ever have to resolve these days  April - hockey ends for the season.  May - TradFest.  June - FilmFest.  July _ JazzFest.  August - Fringe, and all the other shenanigans that plonk several hundreds of thousands of tourists on top of us and turn entertainment into a stamina test.  And then.... hey, it's hockey season again.  I hardly missed it.

It helps to have the time to do all these things (being retired is a big part of that help...).  And, of course, it does need a bit of spare cash, and some financial planning.  (Being poor in this city is no better than it is anywhere else, and there are still way too many people who have to live lives of poverty in this, our grossly wealthy society.)  I fully recognise how privileged I am.  Part of that privilege is being able to live in one of the world's most beautiful cities, and take advantage of so much of what it has to offer.  Which, for the next seven months, will mostly mean Edinburgh Capitals...

Out of the Fridge and into the summer

THERE'S ALWAYS NEXT SEASON

It's been a long time since I last had a hockey-free Sunday, but today sees the start of the long wait for the new season in September.  Way back in last September I was able to write on here with the usual sense of bouyant optimism that's only possible before reality sets in.  Where I said that Caps fans weren't a demanding bunch and outlining our very low-level ambitions....

"If we could qualify for the knockout stages of the cup; if we could finish in the top eight of the league and have a chance to make it to the Playoffs; and, most importantly, if we can beat old rival Fife Flyers then we'll consider that a successful season."

That was followed by a post in November when the guys achieved the first of those three aims, in dramatic fashioned against the aforementioned Fifers.  The optimism was still strong within us.  But Caps can always find a way of confounding expectations.

A series of injuries in December, most notably to our star netminder, saw Edinburgh freefall down the league standings.  From looking a comfortable seventh we soon found ourselves back in familiar position at the arse end of the table.  We still put in a lot of strong performances, but ten minutes of brain fade here and there meant wins couldn't be had.  Caps got some form back after New Year, and stayed in (arithmetic) contention for a playoffs spot until three weekends from the end of the season, but faded at the very end to a slightly distant last place.  But hey, only eight points adrift of ninth.  That might not sound good to you, but it's a huge improvement on last year!

So that was aim number two put out to grass.  And, obviously, we didn't finish above the rivals from over the water.  But we can still claim some successes.  That game in November meant we qualified for the knockout stage of the cup and they didn't.  And in ten meetings the results turned out even, with five wins apiece.  Three of our five came in Kirkcaldy, a barn where we hardly ever get a result, so that was a big plus too (if we ignore the fact we lost to them three times at home as well).  The Flyers looked like a very ordinary team at times, only having the best nettie in the league gave them the position they achieved.

There were other big positives as well, at least compared to last year.  None of the players we began the season with had left by the end, none had suffered season-ending injuries.  They could be hugely entertaining at times, with a greater depth of attacking options than we were used to.  So it's ironic that having a star defenceman as coach did nothing to improve the record when it came to giving away soft goals.  But there were plenty of guys in the lineup we'd be delighted to see returning for 2017-18, even if there's disagreement among fans as to who they should be.  Most notably our captain, Jacob Johnston, who seems to have divided opinion more than any other.  For the record, I'd be one of those who'd love to see him back in a Caps jersey and thought him one of the outstanding players on the squad.

The club itself felt as though it had moved forward in other ways too, especially in communications.  As fans we were kept better informed than before, and that was a huge plus in making supporters feel more involved.  Credit to Mr Gent.   There were a lot of efforts put into attracting new supporters, and numbers did increase, albeit to nothing like the levels needed to help the team become truly competitive.  There's still plenty of space to fill in the Fridge of Dreams.  Ice hockey remains one of this city's great undiscovered pleasures.  It's a shame, for the fans we do have are (in my wholly unbiased opinion) the best in the league.  Loud, enthusiastic, we'll keep shouting win or lose, don't fade away when the results aren't going so well, and will stay behind to cheer our team off the ice.  We may be small in number but atmosphere there is aplenty.  (Never more so than in the comeback against Fife in THAT match in November, still my favourite memory of the season.)

I finished off my spectating season taking in a match featuring the 'baby' Caps who play in the Scottish league, and last weekend in Nottingham watching the semis and final of the EIHL playoffs.  No Caps, but plenty to cheer about, an interesting fans forum where we could ask questions of some of the team owners who dictate the shape of the league, and, in the final, one of the greatest hockey matches you might ever see.  Definitely worth a watch if you can spare the time (it does go on a bit....).  You can see it here until 8 May.

Now it's time for speculation and, eventually, signings, as summer passes on.  There are doubts about the future, rumours that Caps (along with Fife and Dundee) might leave the EIHL and join another league, rumours that our coach could be A, or B, or C, or ....  Time will pass, the waters will clear and one day we'll know what's happening.  But as long as there's a decent standard of hockey to watch in Murrayfield then I'll be there, back in my seat and ready to shout.  My name is Blyth and I'm a Capsaholic.

If there's a hard way to do something....

ONE DOWN, TWO TO GO

A few weeks ago I wrote here about the start of the new ice hockey season and the sense of hope that came with it.  In it I said that we caps fans weren't a demanding lot.  We're loyal, and, knowing how inferior our budget is to the bigger clubs, our hopes and expectations are realistic.  I wrote :

"If we could qualify for the knockout stages of the cup; if we could finish in the top eight of the league and have a chance to make it to the Playoffs; and, most importantly, if we can beat old rival Fife Ayers (their misprint, not mine) then we'll consider that a successful season."

Tonight we had the chance to see the first of those simple aspirations come true.  With the added edge that it was in a match against old rivals Fife Flyers.  After a run of four wins in five games the team had got themselves into the position where a win in regulation time would guarantee a place in the knockout stages of the cup.  A Caps game that actually had an important outcome, now that's been a rarity over the years!

What we got was a drama of Shakespearean intensity and complexity, and heart stopping tension.  Complete with a bit of light relief, courtesy of the Fifers.  Caps were 0-1 down after the first period.  And a bit of as disaster in the second, with Fife adding a second, us getting one back, but two more Fife goals before the end.  Trailing 1-4 was, I confess on the disheartening side.  They've managed a few comebacks in recent games, but four goals in twenty minutes was asking a lot.  And even if we scored three then won in overtime it wouldn't make that cup place secure.

We're now wondering what Coach Dobron said to the guys before that third period started.  They must have been magic words.  Two goals in the first three and half minutes, the equaliser four minutes later, and constant pressure on the Fife goal gave us the lead with more than four minutes still on the clock.  And another a couple of minutes later just to be on the safe side....

It wasn't always pretty.  But it was exciting, impressive, exhilarating, exhausting to watch.  There will be a lot of sore throats in Edinburgh tomorrow morning.  When our fifth went in a surprising number of Flyers fans started heading for the exit, more following after the sixth.  There weren't many left when the buzzer went.  They don't do loyalty in Fife, not like Caps fans.

What a night.  A three goal deficit turned into a two goal victory.  Humiliation for our oldest rivals.  And, for once, Caps have qualified for something.  The way they are playing this season it won't be the last.

If you live in the Edinburgh area you really, really should come along and give this team a watch.  (Fixture list here.)  It might not always be quite as drama packed as tonight's occasion, but it certainly won't be dull.

#MonTheCaps

Return to the Fridge

AND SO WE BEGIN AGAIN

As I begin writing this I'm conscious that his time tomorrow I'll be sat, with a high sense of anticipation, awaiting the arrival on ice of the Edinburgh Capitals EIHL ice hockey team and the start of their 2016-17 season.  It's that time of year when everything is possible, from the glory of optimism to the ignominy of reality.  A blank canvas on which the outlines will only gradually take shape, the hints of shape and colour only emerging as the weeks pass.  With only one certainty - they have, surely, to achieve a better record than last year's squad managed.

There was a time when they too were winners.  After a slow start results wise the Caps emerged as a difficult proposition for any team to tackle at Murrayfield, and capable of spring surprises away from home.  They rose to the giddy heights of fourth in the league, albeit briefly, but looked certain to achieve a solid mid table position come March.  Or so we thought by the end of November.  And then things happened.

Players left, for a variety of reasons, some of them unavoidable.  Players picked up injuries that weren't just going to keep them off ice for a few games, but for the entire season.  And the fear of coming to Edinburgh steadily evaporated as the heat got more intense.  One win at the beginning of December, another in the first fixture of the new year.  And that was it.  More players departed, more picked up injuries.  Replacements were brought in, they picked up injuries.  In a league where imported players dominate, out of our original line up of thirteen only three of them would still be out there in Caps jersey in the closing weeks of the season.  Most tried hard, much to the appreciation of the fans, as Caps plummeted to a distant tenth.  Out of ten.

We're used to losing.  It comes with being a Caps fan.  We enjoy our underdog status, lap up the chance to be gallant losers.  But watching those guys, so few in number against each opposing team, you couldn't help feel sorry for them.  And proud too, for they never gave up.  Trevor Gerling was both a star and a hero for never giving up whatever the odds, and providing flashes of inspiration that had us off our seats.

But that was last year.

Now there's a new coach, a (mostly) new group of imports, and hope in the chilled air of the Fridge of Dreams.  We've seen them play two warm up games.  And lose.  But that was no surprise.  Some of the guys had only flown into Scotland the day before the first of those matches last weekend.  It's hard to play as a team when you've barely learned each others names yet.  When you're still trying to understand the local accent, and that of your Czech coach.

And yet there were so many hopeful signs in those disorganised first showings.  Flashes of talent and skill that, once harnessed, will be a threat to opponents.  A sense of working together, even if not yet to a pattern.  And an intelligent approach from the coach, making sure he got the chance to learn about all the players at his disposal and build the mental picture of strengths and weaknesses heading into his first full week with the squad.  Signs of players wanting to take on responsibility, provide leadership.  And signs that if anyone messes with us we'll fight back.  Signs we want to see.

One week on and the squad has an important addition, and an important omission.  One of last year's star forwards has arrived, in plenty time to take part in the training sessions.  But we are still missing our starting netminder (goalie to non hockey fans) who's still stuck in Canada with visa problems.  So we know there's more to come yet.

Caps fans aren't a demanding lot.  We know we're competing with many teams who have several times our budget.  We know stoicism.  If we could qualify for the knockout stages of the cup; if we could finish in the top eight of the league and have a chance to make it to the Playoffs; and, most importantly, if we can beat old rival Fife Ayers (their misprint, not mine) then we'll consider that a successful season.  And once you're into the knockout stages of any competition there's always the chance of upsets....

But more than anything we want a bunch of players who'll try, week after week, who'll become a squad we can cheer on because we know that they'll give everything they have.

Winning would be nice though....