The Devil In Me

A couple of weeks ago I had my first ice hockey experience. Cardiff Devils v the Belfast Giants. In fact, not only was it my first time at an ice hockey game it was my first ever live sporting event. That is, unless school sports days count?

I quickly discovered that ice hockey is fast, violent and much to my amazement, sexy!

Men, hitting other men with sticks, windows and pucks. It’s an awesome thing to watch. Seriously, every time a player smashed into the glass it was oddly and unexpectedly, exhilarating. Go figure!

The players are, naturally, all bound up but peeling all that bulk away in my mind I managed to convince myself that they were all beautiful Adonis types under their padding. They are men, big hulking, bonafide men and they were beating the crap out of each other. Wow!

My equally hormonal friend Clare had the same experience although she did put a good game face on when her lovely boyfriend almost caught us rating the players as they came up on the monitors. Oops! And if he’s reading this, just ignore this paragraph ok?

Our fabulous experience was topped off by my hubby being hit by a puck (a good thing in icehockey apparently and rare it seems!) and randomly winning a pizza from the gropey, Cardiff Devils mascot, ‘Lucy fur’, which we ate during the game!

Not only have I already booked for my next game but I’m actively encouraging my husband to take up ice hockey (or at the very least buy the outfit ;-).

Is all sport such a turn on or is it simply that potent mix of ice and passion that makes ice hockey so damn hot?!