What the puck?
A local group of hockey nuts tells Mother Nature, "We don't need no stinking ice."
Whether you blame El Niño or side with Al Gore and point the finger at the human race, our mild winter weather has left many of us standing out in the, er, warm when it comes to cold-weather sports.
Patty Green, a member of Chicago Underwater Hockey, didn’t pick up underwater hockey for this reason (you read that right, underwater hockey), but with polar bears getting the shaft due to a lack of an ice sheet at the poles, she might be ahead of the curve. The club, a merry collection of students, firefighters and assorted fish heads, has been swimming and scoring since the Carter years.
The story goes that the game (a.k.a. octopush) was developed around the time of WWII by the English navy as a means to increase its stamina and endurance underwater. Employing a plastic-coated lead puck that weighs about three pounds and is just a shade bigger than what you’d see on the NHL ice, along with a stick that measures about a foot, the sport has since spread to approximately 20 countries and even has its own world championships, held biannually in locales such as South Africa or New Zealand. There are even sites dedicated to hooking up with other players when you travel abroad.
Aside from a little healthy curiosity, you’ll only need a pair of fins, a snorkel set, ear guards (like a water polo “helmet”) and possibly a padded glove to protect your knuckles from scraping along the pool bottom. Play consists of six on each side, with different defensive schemes (1-3-2 or 2-2-2), but no real goalie or keeper is dedicated to protecting the 3-meter-long goal. “It is the ultimate team sport,”
Green says, noting swimmers who try to navigate the puck the length of the pool probably won’t be able to hold their breath and cut and slash in between the opponents. “You can only go so far by yourself.”
And because underwater hockey is still considered a fringe sport, die-hard players will take the game to whichever pool will have them. Sometimes that can mean play on a slanted surface, which results in a ton of easy scoring for one side. Don’t worry, teams are sure to switch sides after the first 10- or 15-minute half so it all evens out.
Ben Tolsky, a member of CUH for about nine years, first picked up the sport while studying downstate in Champaign, where the U. of I. is represented by an underwater-hockey club team that travels to take on its Big Ten counterparts in East Lansing, Michigan, or Madison, Wisconsin.
“It’s really a great community,” Tolsky says. “We go out together, we’re all good friends; it’s an interesting group.”
That’s especially true since teams are coed (which can make for a bit more interesting party atmosphere at tournaments around the country). Playing underwater seems to level the playing field, with slimmer swimmers gaining an advantage over their burly opponents due to their ability to swim in and out of traffic that much easier. Since there’s no checking, you’re not likely to see any blood or teeth floating in the pool. Those ear guards are also a big help in keeping injuries at bay. Tolsky was awaiting surgery to correct an out-of-whack nose from an injury suffered at a tourney in Colorado when we spoke with him, but he insists it’s a rarity.
If you want to try locally, just show up to a practice with your swimsuit and a towel; the regulars will supply the rest, even offering a little boost to your confidence.
“We encourage new players to come out,” Tolsky says. “You can’t really watch from the surface. It looks like a shark feeding frenzy. We want that rookie to join the club, so we’re going to try to get you to score a goal that first practice. It’s a lot more fun that way.”
Chicago Underwater Hockey would flip if you made it out to one of its practices.
