By Vicki Brown
I love ice hockey. My dad took me to a game in Syracuse, N.Y. when I was about nine years old. I fell in love with the sport.
I love how fast-paced it is. There is constant movement, and for someone who has the attention span of a gnat, it is the perfect sport. I must confess that my favorite part is the fighting.
I don’t consider myself blood thirsty, but the fights are a real hoot. These guys mean business and some of the fans are crazy.
Something that really amazes me are how tough the players are. I have seen players accidentally get hit or cut by a skate blade or hockey stick, pick their tooth up off the ice, go with the team medic to the back, get ten or twenty stitches, and get back on the ice ready to play. Some continue to play with broken bones and lacerations amid losing teeth.
Now, come on, Clemson and Carolina fans. Admit it. You don’t see guys that tough in football.
So you can imagine my joy when I found myself living about two miles from the North Charleston Coliseum in the early 90s, right after it was built, and the Stingrays took to the ice.
My South Carolina born and raised husband knew nothing about hockey, but I told him he would love it and dragged him and my two sons to a game. I was right…they were immediately hooked.
We became members of the Booster Club, traveling even out of state to see the Rays play. It was their first year, and the boys were young, mean and tough, and playing extra hard to try and make it to the pros.
One player in particular was my favorite, Andy Bezeo. From up in the stands, he looked huge. He skated fast, shoved guys out of his way, and possessed a formidable temper. He had the most penalties out of the entire team.
One night, an opposing player said something to really irritate Andy. Of course, he threw off his gloves and started fighting. The referees sent him and his opponent to the penalty boxes where they were supposed to sit for two minutes, leaving their teams shorthanded. The opposing players’ penalty boxes were separated by a long table for announcers and officials.
That night I began to notice that Andy and his “enemy” were trading insults from their penalty boxes. All of the sudden, Andy jumped over the box’s wall, slid on his belly across the announcer’s table, cutting an announcer on the face with his skate (they moved the announcer’s table up in the stands after that). He then got to his feet and dove over the wall into the other penalty box where a tremendous fight commenced. It ended when Andy stripped off the other player’s jersey, picked him up and threw him onto the ice. Andy dove on top of him to continue the fight. It took two teams and two referees to pull him off.
The crowd went wild…it certainly was a spectacle.
Andy received a Game Misconduct and was forced to sit out the next game. I was disappointed, but as a true fan, I went to the game anyway.
After the first period, I went to find food around the arena. As I passed the elevator, I almost ran into a man exiting. I looked up…it was Andy Bezeo. He was wearing an olive-green suit and was looking back at me with his typical snarl. I was shocked and tongue tied.
I lost the ability to speak or think clearly, but eventually I managed to blurt out that he was my favorite player; he said “Thanks,” and that was it. He walked away.
I ran back to the stands and told my family that I had just run into Andy Bezeo. They all asked what he said and how he acted, but all I could remember at the time was…. “HE IS SO SHORT!”
It was true! He was a short little guy! I am 5’8”, and I was looking him in the eye! Seriously?
Where were the big muscles? Where was the height, the weight? Evidently it was all just padding under the uniform. But it made me think. Andy might have been small, but he made a huge impact.
That could be true for a lot of people. A person might not be well-known, wealthy, beautiful or special, but each individual has the potential to make a huge impact on a community. I guess it all depends on what is important and worth doing. It wouldn’t hurt for us all to have a little more drive and maybe help our “teammates”, or the other people who live in our town. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to take initiative and work to help clean up the litter everywhere.
Think about it and be that person who makes an impact….but in a good way, not the Andy way.
