Fighting on skates? I was doubtful about ice hockey but it's won me over
Lisa Simonis on how she discovered the fast-paced thrill of ice hockey and the fights ‘in good spirit’ between players
Shivers run down my spine as two players slam into the plexiglass with a loud thud in front of me. Draped in bulky shoulder pads beneath baggy jerseys, helmets with visors, and thick hockey shorts, they look even bigger up close. Sticks clash as they wrestle for control, the puck momentarily disappearing from sight.
The thin, transparent barrier, spanning from my waist to well above my head, is scuffed and scarred from repeated impacts. When the players zoom away, my breath puffs a cloud into the crisp air, loosening a knot I hadn’t known was lodged in my throat.
Ice hockey was not on the list of sports I planned to get into last year. But, as 2025 ended, it felt right that it should end as it began – with a game of ice hockey. As with most sports in my life, I have my friends to thank for the introduction.
Regulars at the rink
My friend Graeme has been a long-time ice hockey fan. Every time he had talked about it, I just stared at him blankly. He’s the kind of guy who’s cool, calm, and collected, but secretly cares a lot. At the hockey rink, all of that spills out of him watching the players on the ice. Now we’re regulars at the rink.
We arrived a few hours before the Hogmanay game to get good seats. Murrayfield had only ever meant rugby to me – I never expected to find an ice arena behind the stadium. The Edinburgh Capitals were on a mission to sell out the 3,800-seat arena for the last day of the year.
READ MORE: How I rediscovered the magic of salsa, the music of my mother's mother, in an Edinburgh bar
The tip of my nose tingled as I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck and huddled into my tiny seat between my friends. The Capitals’ mascot – Paws the Lion – worked the crowd, waving and dancing.
I had reservations about ice hockey at first. I feared I’d lose track of the puck, and I didn’t know the rules. I remember the first game we went to as a group last winter – I stood up after the second period, assuming that was it.
I stretched my legs in the cramped seats, ready to go home. When none of my friends moved, I learned hockey has three 20-minute periods, and we still had one more to go.
READ MORE: How I've become hooked on this strange, brutal, elegant game called rugby since arriving in Scotland
Watching the fans
A few months and one winter later, we’ve made a habit of sitting on the away side of the arena, where it’s less busy, the seats are better, and we get a front-row view of the Edinburgh Capitals fans.
When my eyes glaze over from the cold, I see blobs of fans in the team’s white jerseys with dark blue accents. Now and then, a blue or red foam paw waves in the air.
The first time I sat on the away side, I spotted two babies dressed in lion onesies. I suspect they’ve outgrown their outfits, because I haven’t seen them lately. My favourite fan remains the man with that distinct, AI-generated-looking flag of a real lion on its hind legs, wearing skates and a Capitals kit, hockey stick in hand.
Every time the Capitals score, a lion’s roar echoes from the speakers, and I smile when I spot my favourite flag waving. One of my friends has fallen into the world of ice hockey romance novels, widely shared across social media and credited with introducing many to the sport. I can hear Graeme scoff from a few seats away every time the novels come up.
Growing popularity
While I once thought ice hockey was niche, something for long-time fans, the sport in the UK is growing. The 2024-25 Elite Ice Hockey League (EIHL) season attracted more than 1.25 million spectators, the most in the league’s history, with average attendances continuing to rise. With teams like the Glasgow Clan, the Dundee Stars, and the Fife Flyers competing in the EIHL, 2026 might be the year we go to a pro game.
There’s something exhilarating about hockey. Maybe it’s the speed of the game, the constant switching of players and the way they effortlessly glide across the ice – how sharply they change direction, skating backwards and sideways, before coming to a sudden stop.
READ MORE: How Tom Hanks’ ‘hero’ helped me get over my writer’s block with some outdated, retro tech
It’s the hush that falls over the arena as the puck slips from one end of the ice to the other. All I can hear is the puck skittering across the ice, sticks cracking against it, bodies colliding, and the scrape of skate blades shaving the ice into snow.
It’s the sound of a hockey stick slicing through the air as the puck flies toward the goal, and we hold our breath. In that moment, there’s no time to think about anything else.
Maybe it’s all of it combined that makes me feel like hockey players are invincible. For a game played on ice, the arena heats up fast.
The need for padding
An unpredictable boiling point simmers as the minutes count down, sometimes spilling over into a fight. When gloves and sticks drop to the ground, it’s game over, and the arena erupts in cheers and gasps.
I’ve been informed that fights are a ‘controlled’ part of the sport. As my friend put it, “fighting is fighting, as long as it’s in good spirit". Last year, three fights broke out in the first nine seconds of a Four Nations game between Canada and the USA.
Surprisingly, I’m OK with the aggression and intensity, largely because of the padding. Without 20 pounds of protective gear, I doubt I could stomach it. That, and I can’t fathom how they manage to fight while standing on skates.
Lisa Simonis is a writer, artist and art historian currently based in Edinburgh
Comments
Want to join the conversation? Please or to comment on this article.