Your typical Chuck-a-Puck. But if a Chuck-a-Puck takes place and no one chucks a puck... (Photo: Flickr user Travis S.)

After weeks of missing live hockey because of my upcoming wedding, I am finally in the midst of a multi-game weekend. Thank goodness, because this multi-game weekend allowed me to see two of the oddest intermission events I’ve witnessed in years of attending hockey games.

Friday night, the Boston University men’s ice hockey team hosted Northeastern University in their last regular season home game. BU beat Northeastern 4-2, which would go miles towards improving their status for the Hockey East playoffs. It was a double mites team game, with both intermissions host to a youth hockey team scrimmage. The teams usually have around five minutes to show their stuff, with the announcer and music timing their scrimmage, before the waiting Zambonis rev their engines and warn them off.

During the second intermission, I was chatting with a friend and not paying attention to the mites. Around me, I vaguely heard the announcement thanking the mites for their time and congratulating them on a scrimmage well done. Briefly after, my fiance nudged me.

“They won’t leave the ice.”

Sure enough, the entire team of mites were still down on one end of the ice, skating as if this was their home rink. The Zamboni was in limbo, resting on the lip of the rink, nearly seesaw-like. The opposite side ice door was open, with the security guard awaiting the mites coming off the ice. And the mites were still playing. On the ice, Rhett the mascot looked mighty perplexed.

It took the announcer getting back on the microphone. “Can our mites team please make their way to the exit?”

The kids still skated around the goal, oblivious. The maintenance man off to drag off the net stood, stagger stepped and with a drill in his hand a few feet away.

Finally, the coach realized that yes, his team actually might have to leave the ice. He zipped the mites off the ice, the Zamboni impatiently inching out during the mad dash.

Saturday, while at the Women’s Hockey East Semifinal game between Boston University and the University of New Hampshire in Providence, the announcer kept announcing a Chuck-a-Puck contest being held during the second intermission. A few of us played around with the idea of actually taking part in it for sheer novelty purposes, but vetoed against it. We’d never win – we’re in our late twenties. Our aim is shot.

The second intermission begins, the BU women up 1-0 (they would eventually win 4-0). The announcer proudly announces that it is time for the Chuck-a-Puck competition. “Get your pucks ready….and fire!”

Nothing is thrown on the ice.

“Time for the Chuck-a-Puck!” he exclaims again, trying to will us all to throw something, anything, on the ice.

A little girl next to the glass starts throwing pucks. With aim unbefitting of her age, she throws her three pucks right near center ice. Two more join from the other side of the rink, not getting anywhere near center.

The announcer eggs us all on, “Last chance to chuck those pucks. Five! Four…”

He pauses, realizing that those five pucks on the ice are all there will be. A rink employee begins to stroll onto the ice to pick all five pucks up.

“Threetwoone,” the announcer rushes through, purely to make things official.

My fiance turns to our group of fans. “Why didn’t I enter Chuck-a-Puck again?”