Outside Oberlin:

How I Learned to Stop Caring and Love Hockey

Oberlin is not known for its athletics. Don't get me wrong, we have one of the best Ultimate Frisbee teams for a school our size and some of our intramural bowling squads (I'm thinking of current league champions Mr. Jeff and the Distroyers here) could take on Jesus (Quintana, that is). But according to NCAA regulations, no Division III school is allowed to grant athletic scholarships.

An avid sports dork myself, I try to attend a melange of Oberlin sporting events. These events range from the always-exciting NCAC Swimming Championships to the tedious stalemate-immobility of field hockey, a great sport that (regrettably) grants its participants too much time to stand around. But I hesitate to call myself a true Oberlin sports fan, if only because I have yet to take in several of the athletic experiences that are unique to this decidedly quirky campus. I have not attended a Rhino Ruggers game, though I understand nothing about rugby, so that decision has probably saved me plenty of confusion. Nor have I been to any bowling tournaments that come to Hales Gymnasium, which have a reputation for being top-notch. That said, I have always found time on my Friday and Saturday nights for one of the most raucous and riotous backdrops known to man - a Plague game.

Last year, Oberlin hockey fans got a little rowdy, about as rowdy as your typical WWF Smackdown audience (Suck It!). They basked in the viciousness of the sport and began a tradition of jeering, cursing and insulting; oftentimes, their insults ranged from the intellectually arrogant ("Our players are going to be your bosses someday!") to the vulgar and the primitive ("Your girlfriend is the village bicycle!"). The majority of the crowd is inebriated, and I have witnessed some rink officials and Security officers politely escorting some fans out the door, fans who turned a good old-fashioned sporting event into a stage for their own public buffoonery. But the hockey games remain popular, more so than any other on-campus athletic events. Hardcore fans flock to their games, armed only with hidden flasks and an unconcealed lust for blood. They pound on the glass, cheer for their team in good times and bad and mercilessly taunt members of the opposing teams. For God's sake, people, the Oberlin marching band and Fletch, a half-baked heavy metal band, played at last year's games. How hardcore can you get?

But this past Friday was something else completely. Mr. Robinson might have put it best: can we say "mob atmosphere," boys and girls? I kid you not, by the third period there were at least 300 students packed into the southern half of the arena, with about 100 of them standing on the plexiglass boards head and shoulders above the protective barrier, pounding on the inside of the glass. Many crude and low-brow insults were heard that night, none that I will repeat, but the butt of many of the jokes was either a particular female player from the Case Western squad or the problems that opposing players' mothers had with their "raw sewage." Ugly stuff, plain and simple.

Unfortunately, that's not all. Just to show how homey and heartwarming the Oberlin crowd really could be, several fans began hurling ashtrays, beer bottles and hockey sticks onto the ice following the 5-1 loss, causing $400 in damage to the rink. (Seniors Dan Bourque and Matt Winstanley lost their brand new sticks in the melee, as some considerate fans decided it would be prudent to claim them as souvenirs.) In case you were wondering, the money needed to repair the damage came out of the Plague's budget. With fans like the Oberlin faithful, what team needs enemies?

Why was this past weekend's hockey game so vile? With the exception of a small-but-proud group of fans who follow men's and women's basketball, few teams at Oberlin enjoy any consistent support. Why should hockey be any different? It's not a traditional Division III sport. Nonetheless, there must be a reason. With that in mind, I will offer several possibilities that attempt to explain why so many fans come out of the woodwork for these loud, intoxicated and sometimes destructive showdowns.

- The layout of the arena: For those who have not visited Williams Rink, it contains no seats, just two sets of meager, unpainted, wooden bleachers that are used sparingly. Fans just line themselves along the glass, fists pounding (when they're not nursing a well-hidden Pabst), ready to berate the closest opponent. The fans are practically on the ice, the closest thing to a truly interactive sporting experience.

- The time and day of games: Most games are scheduled late (9-10 p.m.) on Friday or Saturday nights, which means half the fans are liquored up before the puck drops. And alcohol, as we all know, often leads folks to utter some of the wittiest remarks ever contrived.

- The brevity of the contests: Since there are virtually no period breaks, the games are nice and quick. And it doesn't hurt that hockey is a terrific spectator sport, featuring lightning-fast action, plenty of savage hits and beautiful plays (like a well-executed one-timer or an uncontested breakaway goal) that double as breathtaking art.

So perhaps that is why there is such a divide between hockey and almost every other sport at Oberlin. Or perhaps it is because the Plague is a fairly decent team. But that can't be the only reason. Some of our female varsity programs are top-notch (lacrosse, basketball), and our cross-country team is breaking records on a weekly basis. So why the fascination? That leads me to the crux of my argument. Oberlin fans are either swept in with the breeze when it's suddenly chic to go to a soccer game on homecoming, or they simply stay at home, utterly disinterested in the endeavors of their colleagues in the athletic department.

There is no subset of die-hard sports fans here at Oberlin that follow one sport religiously. Except, that is, for hockey. It's an entertaining sport, with a reputation for violent fights and pretty goals. It even comes from Canada, which has become famous for its exports (beer, the MacKenzie brothers, Bryan Adams). But that doesn't fully explain the popularity of the game at Oberlin, a place where cello recitals draw bigger crowds than football games - a phenomenon that shouldn't be so isolated. It's great that the Plague enjoys the support of a vocal crowd, and it's even better that the energy and enthusiasm at their games could be cut with a knife - even if the fans sometimes embarrass the school with their antics. But wouldn't it be nice if students took an interest in some of the other sports Oberlin has to offer? Wouldn't it be nice if big crowds and rabid fans became the rule at Oberlin athletic events, not the exception? Think about it.