The 'Canadian Sport' in Scotland: Edinburgh Capitals v Fife Flyers, October 20, 2013, 6-8:30p.m.

At a wedding last week in Scotland, we were surprised to learn that there is a professional hockey league there, complete with five teams and paid players from around the world. There was a game on the Sunday evening before we left, so being the good Canadian hockey fans we are, we went to investigate what hockey in Scotland is like.

The Edinburgh Capitals rink is located in an ancient little arena just behind the national Olympic rugby stadium, Murrayfield. Murrayfield towers over the rest of the Haymarket area in Edinburgh, with bright, shiny silver stands; green, manicured grass, and eight-story billboards of their national rugby heroes in their masculine, sweaty form. Everyone knows where Murrayfield is, but no one knows that there is an ice rink there.

“They’re playing ice hockey at Murrayfield? Ya sure it’s nae Shinty?”

“What do they do? Freeze the field or something?”

“I nae heard of an ice hockey rink there hen.”

Below, and behind, Murrayfield arena is a small, white cement building with small, black lettering that read, “Murrayfield Ice Rink”. (The melting piles of snow gave it away.)

We went early because we were afraid that we might not be able to get tickets. After 45 years of watching hockey on television, for example, I have still never been to a Toronto Maple Leafs’ game. At 4:30p.m., an hour and a half before the puck drop, people were leaving from the Sunday afternoon ‘Disco Skate’ (the arena’s main source of revenue), and some of the Capital players were just arriving for the game.

We stopped one man with a ‘Hockey Canada’ bag, never dreaming that this would actually be one of the players.

“Are you from Canada? Do you know where the box office is?”

“No, I’m Czech. They don’t start selling til five.”

“Where did you get the bag?”

“Another player gave it to me.”

This encounter was similar to arriving at any travel rep game around Canada. You park. You bring in your bags with all of the other players, and you ask someone where the dressing room is. These guys might be paid to play hockey, but they are sure not treated like the huge Sidney Crosby celebrities you see in North America.

At 5:03p.m., the box office did indeed open for the 6p.m. game, and we and 23 others made our way in to get tickets. Think for a moment what you would have to do to get tickets to an NHL game in Canada: If you aren’t lucky enough to win the ‘season ticket’ lottery, you go online the first minute of the first hour the tickets become available. Then, you pray that you can afford, or get tickets, as close to the ice as you can. Tickets for the January 1, 2013 Winter Classic, for instance, are currently sold out, but the last tickets sold cost close to $1,000. At the Edinburgh Capitals ticket booth, we bought “gold” seats right beside the players’ bench for the whopping-low, bargain price of £8 each! Yes, you read that right. And yes, we were stunned.

Making our way into the arena, we had to walk through a dimly-lit, industrial-green corridor with the players, the professional players, coming and going in half states of dress and their sticks and equipment just lounging about the walls as if they were leftovers from some beer league match. No security. No walls. No ‘do not enter’ signs. Just the public milling about with macaroni pies and poorly-made coffee (yes that’s the same) on their way to their seats. Our children have never been this close to professional players. In Canada, the security won’t even let you near the ice, let alone the changerooms!

We all looked at each other, “something must be wrong,” my one son said,

“Are these the players?”

“Wow!” the youngest said, “these must be really amazing seats!”

When we finally came out of the corridor to our seats, we were indeed behind the players. I know, I know, you are waiting for the catch. We were too. But unbelievably, in this old, decrepit arena, with seats still made of wood, our ‘gold seats’ were behind the players, and I don’t mean they were up behind a wall, sectioned off, with glass and several security guards checking our tickets and telling us to stay back. No, they were right behind the players. Reach out and tap a guy on the helmet kind of behind. Say, ‘Skate hard!’ kind of behind. Watch the steam come out of the helmets kind of behind.

Maple Leaf and Senator fans will be happy to hear that there were actually Toronto (four) and Ottawa (two) jerseys in the crowd. Two patrons wearing Toronto jerseys sat beside us. They said they were sent the sweaters from family in Canada; they have never been to Canada themselves.

All the other viewers were wearing soccer scarves and chanting football songs. The two teams’ fans are segregated – the home team fans sit behind the benches, and the visiting team fans sit on the opposite side of the arena. (There are no seats behind the nets. This is where the coffee, meat pies and chips are sold.)

If you close your eyes, it sounds like you are at an international soccer match with the drums drumming and chanting, rather than a hockey game. In fact, the announcer calls it a ‘match’ too, not a game, and the goalie is called a ‘keeper’ by the patrons in a country full of soccer.

Predictably, the majority of power lines on the teams are made up of North American and Czech players. The Scottish league is only allowed to hire 10 “imports” at a time, however, so the other lines are a mixture of local Scottish or EU players who all work full-time at other jobs during the day. What was interesting was the North American players did have very distinctive moves. You know they are from Canada just by what they did. The defenders from Canada or the U.S.A., for instance, were superb at backward skating, using the long stick, checking in the corners, and throwing a fit if any player from the opposite team hung around the net after the whistle. The forwards from North America all used the backward short pass and kept the passing hole in front of the net open. One poor Scottish defender named Beatson kept shielding his goalie, and unfortunately scored on his own net twice by missing the puck and letting it bounce off of his own glove.

Sadly, the other passing lines couldn’t receive the passes much better. I don’t think I have ever seen so much icing, off-sides, or pucks bounce off of boards. One “newly acquired import” from Canada named Reaney was so overweight that he could barely move on the ice. Essentially, he was making $30,000 a year in a beer league. So all you players out there who love hockey, but feel like you’re too old – begin applying to the Scottish league!

The one truly redeeming quality of the Scottish hockey league is the informal, family atmosphere that exists between the players and the fans. They walk in and out of the arena together; share the same halls; and greet each other and chat informally both before and after the ‘match’. In this way, all of the Scottish players are brought up through the same club, starting as fans when they’re children and becoming involved in the teaching programs and workshops like the country’s top soccer club leagues.

In Canada, it would be very unlikely for most young players to ever met an NHL player. They are kept separate and above from the plebian population (unless one has the money to pay for the privilege of even having a card signed). It was nice to know that professional players, even in Scotland, actually dress, warmup, and change and chat after the game just like any other person. Yes, they actually are human; their equipment stinks the same as any bag in the back trunk or basement. They are not just gold two-dimensional statues on a card – they are real working players! Good on ye!