Sunday, October 21, 2012

What’s The Word? Long Live the Carolina Thunderbirds


For those of you that have been around me for more than five minutes, you know my insatiable passion for all things ice hockey. Given the current NHL lockout (insert expletives here), I thought I would dabble in a bit of local hockey nostalgia.

Coincidentally, it happens to be the 30th anniversary of the Carolina Thunderbirds 1982-1983 Atlantic Coast Hockey League championship season. Who were the Carolina Thunderbirds? If you’ve asked this question, you probably did not live in Winston-Salem from 1981 through 1991. A time when flowing locks of hockey hair (a.k.a the mullet), big fluffy moustaches and blood stains were as much a part of a hockey player’s uniform as were his skates. Want a quick course in minor league hockey from this era? Get your hands on George Roy Hill’s irreverent, vulgar and hilariously realistic 1977 movie, Slapshot. Starring Paul Newman and based on a true story, this movie is generally regarded as one of the best sports movies of all-time. It even has a little known, direct tie in with the Carolina Thunderbirds that I will mention in a bit. Prior to pressing play you’ll want to evacuate all children under the age of 17 from earshot. Then you can spend two hours laughing until you pee yourself - just like Nick Brophy!

The Carolina Thunderbirds were not Winston-Salem’s first pro hockey team. That honor belongs to the Winston-Salem Polar Twins (1973-1977) of the Southern Hockey League. Yep, the Southern Hockey League. Even the name reeks of shoddy ice and a cold, hard punch in face. My father, a recent Canadian immigrant, was an off-ice official for the Twins and I vaguely remember going to games with him. Bundled up in hat and coat, squirming in the red wooden seats of the old Memorial Coliseum, I remember being mesmerized by the whole experience. Of course I was equally excited by the antics of the team’s two polar bear mascots as I was by the action on the ice, but hey I was five.

The Polar Twins played teams with names like the Greensboro Generals, Roanoke Valley Rebels and the (I’m not making this up) Macon (clears throat) Whoopee. The Rebels used to skate out for the pre-game warm-up waving a huge Confederate flag and making the occasional obscene gesture to the seething, jeering crowds of the home team. Cue Skynyrd’s Saturday Night Special, stuff a few mini bottles of Rebel Yell in your pocket and get ready for some southern-fried hockey. This was not an era of family entertainment. It was an era of cold, smoke-filled arenas with short-tempered players and patrons. Being five years old and going from Mr. Rogers Neighborhood to this screaming, board-checking, fist-flying, goal-scoring frenzy was true sensory overload. I remember HATING the visiting teams and their players. The games felt personal…even to a child.

I was seven when the team folded in the winter of 1977. I remember going to the rink with my dad to watch a practice and getting the news. It’s difficult to pinpoint memories from that age, but the drive home that night was something that has always stayed with me. Lying on the back seat watching tall, moonlit trees pass by with a distinct sense of fear and melancholy. My first real taste of  “all good things must come to an end”? Maybe so.

It wasn’t until the late fall of 1981 that hockey made its return. You have to remember that back then, especially in the southeastern United States, hockey wasn’t on television. Unless of course, there was a miracle happening on the weird, Smurf-blue ice in Lake Placid, NY. Do you believe in miracles? YES! Hockey was on it's way back to tobacco country. I fully credit the 1980 USA ice hockey gold medal for generating the interest needed to bring a team back to the Coliseum.

The Winston-Salem Thunderbirds were embarrassingly bad that first season, winning only 14 of 50 regular season games in the recently founded Atlantic Coast Hockey League. But to me the “T-Birds” as they came to be known, were larger than life. That inaugural campaign fueled and reinforced a ravenous passion and devotion in me for not only the Thunderbirds, but for the sport of ice hockey as well.

Despite the fact that three of the seven teams folded before end of the season, the ACHL regrouped, added new teams and soldiered on. Attendance was solid given the poor results on the ice, and the scrappy T-Birds earned another season to win over the Camel City. And win they did.


One notable change that second season was a new name and logo, goodbye Winston-Salem, hello Carolina Thunderbirds. The biggest transformation though was on the ice. The T-Birds dominated, winning an astonishing 51 of 68 regular season games on their way to an undefeated post season and a runaway ACHL Championship.



The names still resonate through my mind like the chiming of a victory bell: Dave Watson, Mike Brisbois, Randy Irving, Peter Dunkley and goalie extraordinaire Yves Dechene, just to name just a few. But my favorite Thunderbird, Michel Lanouette, had the flowing locks of a young Jaromir Jagr and (seemingly) the speed and scoring touch of Alex Ovechkin at his best. Lanouette was electrifying and unstoppable that year, posting 41 goals and 44 assists in 61 games. He notched 14 points in eight playoff games as the T-Birds swept the hated Mohawk Valley Stars four games to none to clinch the championship.

Fans packed the Memorial Coliseum for every game that season. Crowds of 3,500 to 4,000 fans a game was not uncommon. The old arena wasn’t pretty, in fact it looked exactly like an overgrown version of Gomer Pyle’s quonset hut. But gaw-a-haw-lee, what it lacked in style it made up for in atmosphere. Game nights from back then are truly some of the treasured memories of my youth.


Handwritten banners taunting visiting teams and players hung from every corner of the building. Cow bells, horns and the fan led call-and-response chant of “WHAT’S THE WORD? THUNDERBIRDS!” bounced of the concrete floors and echoed through the lofty rafters of that wonderful old building. By the start of the third period, a thick, sweet-smelling fog of cigar smoke laced with the aroma of fresh corn dogs hung about thirty feet above the ice. It shifted and swayed, gently responding to subtle wind currents generated by the fast-moving action below. Most games I attended by myself. I’d beg and plead with my mom to let me do odd jobs around the house so that I could earn the $4.50 I needed to get in to watch my heroes in the red, white and black. She’d drop me off at the box office with explicit instructions: “Be careful and call me right before the third period starts.” We had the timing of our pick-up ritual down to a science.

One game in particular comes to mind where I blatantly disregarded my mother’s “be careful” rule. I would typically buy a seat in the upper regions of the arena and move around to different seats closer to the ice during the game. I preferred to sit at the end where the T-Birds were on offense as I was (and still am) a goal-minded fan. Yes, the fighting could be exciting, but for me the blast of the red goal light, the deafening roar of the crowd and the player’s sticks raised in primal celebration really floated my boat. For some reason at this particular game I decided to plant myself right behind the Erie Golden Blades’ bench. As in most games, a fight broke out on the ice. Evidently this must have been a particularly testy match, as while the fight was raging on the ice, the fans in my vicinity began engaging the Erie players and coaches in a very heated verbal exchange. Being 12 years old and possessing a somewhat non-threatening voice and limited expletive vocabulary, I did what any red-blooded, die hard T-Birds fan would do to get my point across: I spit over the glass.  

I first realized that this was a grave error on my part when the juicy little projectile cleared the glass. I could feel the eyes of the Golden Blades’ bench transfixed on its trajectory like awestruck spectators watching a rocket scream through the stratosphere. Well, Houston, the Eagle has landed…right on the head of Erie head coach Jim Mikol. Uh oh. The image of what happened next is still deeply ingrained in my psyche. In one quick motion Mr. Mikol procured a stick from one of his player’s and proceeded to hoist it high above his head and then smash it down tomahawk-style against the top of the plexi-glass directly over my head. Fury and ferocity like this is typically limited to nature documentaries of charging, psychotic rhinos. Good old-fashioned nostril-flaring, red-faced rage. This man wanted to MURDER me and I deserved it. It turned me from bratty 12 year-old to cowering, whimpering child in an instant. Then, when he began to scale the glass I believe I blacked out for a second. Thankfully, the crowd and in particular two large, blue collar guys who looked ready to beat the living daylights out of any Canadian in a suit, were on my side. Cooler heads prevailed and the coach was corralled by his players and assistants moments before he made it over the glass to beat me to death. I emerged from under the seats with my protectors at my side feeling empowered by a renewed sense of community and victory. That lasted about three seconds as one of my defenders grabbed my arm hard, looked me dead in the face and said, “You’re one lucky kid. Next time you spit on anyone I hope they give you exactly what you deserve. Now get outta here.” He shoved me towards the aisle and I spent the next two days shaking. Lesson learned.

The Thunderbirds thrived for years and had a devoted legion of fans who stuck with the team through good and bad. Between 1983 and 1991 T-Birds fans witnessed two more ACHL championships, the inaugural ECHL Riley Cup Championship, a losing season, and two league changes. But unfortunately, loyal fan support and success on the ice couldn’t save the Thunderbirds. In my opinion, end came when the city demolished the Memorial Coliseum and constructed the current building. No offense to Lawrence Joel, and the “new” coliseum is a top-notch venue, but the soul, spirit and heart of minor league hockey was lost when that building came down. The Thunderbirds were exiled to the LJVM Annex for the 1989 - 1990 season, what was to be their next to last.

I saw the writing on the freshly painted walls when I brought some of my college buddies home for a game shortly after the team took up residence in the Annex. As I walked through the doors I immediately knew it was over. This tiny arena seemed completely devoid of anything hockey. With its gray plastic seats, gigantic pastel art-deco wall hangings behind one of the goals, it was an absolute nightmare. It looked like an ice chalet for children, designed by an old woman with bad taste. I tried so hard to get into the game but it was an exercise in futility. Visions of tall trees whizzing by in the silver moonlight flooded my brain. The team moved to Wheeling, West Virginia the next year and took a part of me with them.

I moved back to Winston a few years later and wholeheartedly supported every failed attempt to bring a hockey team back. The Mammoths, IceHawks, T-Birds, Polar Twins and Cyclones all suffered short, quick deaths…choked out by pastel wall hangings in a lifeless, silent and empty building. I even reached out to the management of the Cyclones before they began their first season in a desperate attempt to give them some tips on what the team needed to do to succeed. To their credit their coach/GM actually called me and had me in for brainstorming session. But they were on a shoestring budget, handcuffed by the management of the Annex and could only do so much. I think I took my daughter to one game that first season and never returned. It hurt me to watch it.

Could hockey come back to Winston-Salem? Maybe, but it would never live up to my memories. And for God’s sake, if it does, please don’t let whoever named the Winston-Salem Dash within 500 feet of the planning sessions.

So now seems like a good time for my little known tidbit about the fantastic Thunderbirds/Slapshot connection. In one memorable scene from the movie, the team’s bus driver is shown bashing the side of the bus with a sledgehammer. When asked why, he simply responds, “I'm making it look mean.” The Thunderbirds used the actual bus from the movie for several seasons, complete with dents. You can’t make this stuff up, folks.

At this point I’ve happily resigned myself to occasionally breaking out my Thunderbirds t-shirt on special occasions and wearing it with pride. So if you see me sporting it sometime say hello and relive your favorite Thunderbirds memory with me if you have one. I’d love to hear it. Oh, and don’t tell my mom about the spitting incident.


20 comments:

  1. I enjoyed your article about the Carolina Thunderbirds. My pal, Doug Smith, was a fighter for the T-Birds during the championship 1988-89 season. We wrote a book about his experiences and it was made into the movie "Goon."

    ReplyDelete
  2. Nice piece on the T-Birds. As high schoolers we used to drive up from Charlotte for games starting that first season. One Sunday we drove up for a game only to find out the ACHL had folded a couple of weeks before. Continued to go to games through the Annex era. I even worked with Dougie Sauer to work out some promotions with the team through Wendy's. The games with Greensboro and Hampton Roads always seemed to be the best. The fights in the stands matched those on the ice. Of course Charlotte eventually got a team, but I'll never forget those magical trips to Winston-Salem in the 1980's.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Thanks so much for this post. My family had moved my brother and I down from Massachusetts where our local youth hockey teams that we played for dominated the ice wherever we went. Moving to Winston-Salem for us was saved by the Thunderbirds as we were able to keep playing. My brother and I and two kids from upstate New York were the only kids who could really skate and luckily, one of them was a really good goalie. Not only did we play, my Dad took me and my best friend Ken to the games and got us involved selling Thunderbirds programs. Members of the Thunderbirds played for my dad's summer softball teams and came to our cook-outs.... The Thunderbirds have had such a great impact on my life and my friends lives. Thunderbirds FORVER!!!!!!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks for reading Shane...those are some great memories you have. Watching the Olympics and seeing all the obligatory 1980 Miracle On Ice references makes me miss those times when I was a kid back at the old Coliseum. I played youth hockey as well back then!

      Delete
    2. Me and my boyfriend found this blog while we were looking for one of his dad's hockey fights online! His dad Michel Lanouette still plays at the Annex :)

      Delete
  4. True story! As a youngster I used to hang out at the old War Memorial Coliseum and play in the Winston-Salem Amateur Hockey League. We were awful! It was a real bonus when the Polar Twins were in town and we got to hang out before their games begging for a broken stick, a puck, or possibly to get out on the ice just before or afterwards. One Saturday morning after one of my games, the visiting team Hampton Gulls rolled in with dirty gear from their game the night before. The equipment manager asked me to go across the street to Murph's, a local wash n dry place, and wash the teams dirty gear. I thought it was the coolest thing in the world to be helping a pro team, even if it meant washing dirty underwear. My father wasn't so thrilled. You see I was supposed to be watching out for my younger brother back at the arena,but that was the last thing on my mind. When I got back to the Gulls locker room several hours later with all the clean gear I thought I was a hero until my dad walked in. He was hot! Well, the equipment manager and players smoothed things over for me and patched things up and all was well. My family still gets a laugh out of this story ever couple of years. Another highlight was being chosen to dress up in one of the two Polar Twins bear uniforms and skate around in between periods of games shooting pucks and encouraging the home town fans. Those uniforms were hot, stinky, and I could barely see out of just one eye on those big bear heads, but at the time it was the greatest thing in the world. My buddy Jerry Vestal's dad was a big deal with the team and he always chose us to "bear" at the home games. I never really amounted to much as a hockey player. My brother on the other hand shined and up until recently played in a mens league at the new annex. We laugh about names like Forbes and Jamie Kennedy, Blaine Rhydman, Brian Mulvic, Billy Morris, and others. Interesting fact, one of the younger guys with the Gulls around that time was, I think, a guy named John Tortorella. He went on to later coach the New York Rangers, and the Vancouver Canucks. Now I am an old gray headed man with some old memories of a kid growing up in the south and chasing a crazy game called ice hockey. Long live the Polar Twins, the Carolina Thunderbrds, and ice hockey in the south.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Awesome memories! Thanks for sharing...never knew that about Torts, I'm a huge Rangers fan.

    ReplyDelete
  6. M,M&M, thank you for sharing your memories of the Twins and T-Birds. I worked as an assistant/stick boy for Curry "Pork" Whittaker, the trainer of that first Twins team. He later became the first coach of the T-birds. I used to stand behind the glass at the end of the rink during warm up and talk with the minor officials, so I may have known your dad. Those guys were always kind to me and we all loved being part of that team, that time and those people. Great, great memories and some hilarious stories. Another connection to Slap Shot is that Curry was an extra in one of the opening scenes. About five years ago someone put on a 50th anniversary celebration of hockey in Greensboro. I went to the dinner and reconnected with Curry, Don Carter (the Twins first coach), Cam Colbourne, Pat Kelly (Charlotte Checkers coach and SHL commissioner), among others. Would love to hear more recollections from others. Thanks again.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Thank you for sharing your memories! I miss those days big time.

    ReplyDelete
  8. I was a season ticket holder for most of the years that the Thunderbirds played in WS and have great memories of that wonderful old building. I am now a season ticket holder of the Charlotte Checkers and we are lucky enough to have returned back to another wonderful old building. But I still miss WS and my seat,sec T row G seat 1!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Man, you even remember where your seats were! Yes, I live in Charlotte now and that building is fantastic. So glad the Checkers left Spectrum Center.

      Delete
  9. im glad you are marketing this team good, Because the FHL cities are so far apart there is no rivalry like the SPHL has between Fayettevile, Knoxville and Roanoke , My hope is that you affilaite this team with the Carolina Hurricanes, you NEED to Draw outside the Winston-Salem boundries and People all over the state driving in to see the Prospects is a way to do it. Otherwise, you will only draw from Winston-Salem and Me being a resident of Winston-Salem , i want to see this team suceed

    ReplyDelete
  10. Great article, I was there for the Thunderbird years, lots of memories. Most of all, that's where I met my wife of 27 years, in the old coliseum at a Thunderbird game and we never missed another one.

    ReplyDelete
  11. That's awesome Steve! Thanks for sharing.

    ReplyDelete
  12. Glad you enjoyed my antics! I was the polar twin mascot for 2 years. It was a lot of fun for a 15 year-old girl, even if the polar bear headpiece smelled terrible! It was fun hanging on to the Zamboni and playing on the ice.Those were the good old days! I especially liked your review of all the past hockey in Winston-salem excellent job!

    ReplyDelete
  13. Thank you for sharing the history and your memories of the Winston Salem Thunderbirds.
    I was a goalie for the Thunderbirds in the early part of the 1981/1982 season before suffering a career ending injury. I too have lots of stories and fond memories of playing hockey in Winston Salem.
    Every now and then people will ask me what was the league like?
    My reply usually starts the same, "Well,
    did you ever see the movie slapshot"

    Thank you for this blog!


    ReplyDelete
  14. The old barn was thea bomb for mo or league hockey ... low cut glass ... front row seating out you right in the game it was awesome!!!

    ReplyDelete