Different Language, Same Great Game

A couple of weeks ago, I had the distinct pleasure of attending a Russian Super League hockey game in Chelyabinsk. Hated Moscow Dynamo was in town to take on the hometown Traktor squad at the Sports Palace Yunost. Palace probably is not the best word to describe the 3500 seat Soviet era arena.

The scoreboard was straight out of the early '70s (other than the short-short wearing cheerleaders who danced underneath it--they're hard to see in this picture). The seats were really just long benches--with very little leg room--where upwards of sixty people squeezed in between the aisles (we were probably sitting in spaces #27-#32--smack dab in the middle). Ninety percent of the stands were on one side of the rink, the rafters were pretty low, and there was little in the way of amenities as far as food and drink went. The subterranean bathrooms smelled as if they hadn't been cleaned since the days of Brezhnev.

The very visible presence of well over a hundred policemen in the arena didn't enhance my feelings of security. These weren't the "emergency response life-saving" kind of cops. They were the "beat your ass with a club until you submit and sort it out later" variety. Their uniforms and headgear was more paramilitary than police and they arrived at the rink in canvas-topped, open-backed army trucks. You got the impression that if there was any trouble at all their approach would be to crack heads and ask questions later.

But the arena's shortcoming and daunting security were more than made up for by the passion of the fans and the quality of the hockey. When we walked through the parking lot before the game, we saw lots of fans partaking in the Russian version of tailgating: groups of three and four guys standing around the open trunks of their cars pounding beer and vodka in ten degree temps. It reminded me of high school. This pre-game imbibing proved necessary as alcohol was not served inside the arena.

The crowd reminded me somewhat of the SRO crowd at North Star playoff games at Met Center. Male, mostly blue collar, tuned up, hardcore hockey fans who weren't shy about letting people know how they felt. There definitely wasn't a "family friendly" section. When the Dynamo players took the ice, they were greeted with a torrent of boos and profanities (as translated by my Russian coworker). It was a nice way to build up the energy in the building and establish dramatic tension before the national anthem and opening faceoff.

When the puck dropped, EVERYONE was seated--their eyes intently focused on the game. And NO ONE got up during the entire first period of play. They were there to watch hockey and that's what they were going to do. It was a welcome departure from what you see at most professional sporting events in the US these days, where the action on the ice (or the field or court) is just a part of the overall entertainment package.

One thing that was a little distracting was the prevalence of advertising. From the boards and ice to the players jerseys (by the way, I picked up a very sweet away Traktor jersey the day after the game and it drew rave reviews at Thursday morning hockey this week) extending even to the referees, there were logos everywhere. It was a bit like NASCAR on ice. A hell of lot more exciting though.

There was no doubt that the fans were fully engaged in the game at hand. Even though there were only 3500 on hand (a sellout), they were quite loud. Constant chants would spontaneously break out (unprompted by the scoreboard). I couldn't understand most of them, but usually they evolved into some form of "Trak-tor Chel-ya-binsk! Trak-tor Chel-ya-binsk!" or just "Trak-tor! Trak-tor! Trak-tor!" The quality in this very short video clip isn't great (cell phone), but it gives you an idea what it was like.

Judging by their reaction to close plays at the blue-line and appreciation for quality play in all three zones, the crowd was also very knowledgeable about hockey. They were also quite proud of the Russian style of play. After a Traktor player scored a nifty wrap around goal, a nearby fan (who obviously knew I wasn't Russian) tapped me on the shoulder, gave me a thumbs, smiled broadly, and exclaimed, "This Russian hockey. Good hockey!"

I couldn't disagree with him. The style of play was notably less physical than the NHL, but the skating, stick handling, and passing was a joy to behold. Rather than just pounding the puck at the goal and crashing the net, the Russians really look for the pretty passing play. Make no mistake, they can still shoot, but the focus didn't seem to be on the booming slap shot as much as you see in the NHL.

The play was up and down the ice. No one was playing a trap and usually they only resorted to dumping the puck when nothing else was available rather than as part of a system. It made for a crisp and relatively fast game (just over two hours total). The fact that they didn't wait for television commercials also helped keep things moving and keep your interest on the ice.

The NHL is moving toward more of a blend between the North American and European (including Russian) styles. I wouldn't want the League to lose the physical side of the game (or the fighting), but putting a bigger premium on the sort of speed and skill you see in the Russian Super League will only make the NHL better and more enjoyable to watch.

Because I certainly enjoyed watching the hockey in Chelyabinsk. It probably helped that when the buzzer sounded and it was time for the post-game handshake, the hometown squad had gutted out a 3-2 victory. The players and the fans were able to celebrate before heading out into the cold Chelyabinsk night.