Date: Sat, 05 Jul 2003 14:43:37 -0500 From: Zippy Zamboni Subject: Hockey Hazing at UVM, part one ----------------------------------------------------- On October 2, the University of Vermont (UVM) Hockey team held its initiation party. A freshman goalie, Corey LaTulippe warned university officials in September about the hazing party before it happened, and despite warnings from the athletic department, the party took place. Shortly after the initiation party, LaTulippe was cut from the team and subsequently filed a lawsuit against the University. In the lawsuit he stated that the new players were forced to drink warm beer and walk around holding each other's genitals. The Attorney General was called in to perform the investigation and the conclusion: the allegations were essentially true and furthermore, the entire team had lied to UVM investigators. In January 2000, the UVM President made a bold move: she canceled the remaining games of the Division I hockey season. ----------------------------------------------------- My Story by Zippy Zamboni My first four days as a soon-to-be Catamount hockey star at Vermont were strictly conditioning, and after a hour of lifting in the brand new Gucciardi rec and fitness center on the first day, we headed out for a run. It was a fairly warm September morning, and most of the 28 guys left their T-shirts in the gym. We were quickly shown that the five rookies had their place, which was running behind all of the veterans. The University area has several trails, well-maintained but mostly covered with fallen leaves and shredded bark, and there was plenty of traction and little dust. The trails headed into the woods and hills of the County and nearby State Park. The three-mile trail at the south end of the campus was the team's usual path. Almost as soon as we got out of sight of the gym's parking lot and into the woods, the veterans all stopped, blocking the trail. The team captain, called Lander by his teammates, was closest to us rookies, and simply said "Rookies run naked today." With 22 guys backing him up, and all of them obviously supporting him, we looked at each other. Ryan, who developed into a high scoring forward and who already seemed to be a leader among the rookies, cracked that he had "always liked to show a little cheek while jogging", gave us all a "what can we do?" look, and we all pulled off our shorts and jocks. The run resumed, but four or five veterans now ran behind us, putting us like the naked meat in the middle of a slightly-clothed sandwich. We carried our clothes. After about two miles, we took a water break, with each of us trying to keep a handful of clothes over his dick as much as possible. After a short break, Captain Lander called for the rookies to line up in front of a fence, and announced that "it was time to pick the best rookie." The best rookie was, of course, the one with the longest dick, and Ryan was the winner by a slight amount. Corey LaTulippe, a local boy quickly nick-named The Tulip, with a cut one, was the runner-up, and I was third. Pat, a forward, and Mark, a defender, were shortest, although there wasn't much difference among any of the five. We were then lined up according to dick size, and told to stay in order for the rest of the run. When we approached the end of the trail, they told us to get dressed, but they kept running, meaning we all were way behind them getting back to the locker room where new assistant coach Norton was waiting and recording times. ------------- The second day of conditioning was a repeat, with more naked running for the rookies. I guess we were surprised once, when another large group of runners was coming down the trail towards us, several with Vermont Soccer on their shirts. In the middle of the pack were the soccer rookies, apparently, since they were naked too. On the third day we saw the cross country rookies, a pack of about 10 naked boys. None of the women's teams were ever seen, perhaps because they ran elsewhere or had other hazing treats for the rookies. Twice on the second day we passed pairs of jogging girls, and they had a few good looks at us and a few giggles. Probably they knew from experience that some naked runners might be on the trails. --------------- The third day of conditioning was going to be a long one, we were told, and we took a new trail off campus, heading into the Green Mountains. We soon stopped, got naked as ordered, and started up a long slope. It must have been two miles uphill, but there was a water stop at the top. Before we re-started, Lander told the rookies to line up, and said that a new best rookie would be chosen. Ryan smiled his winner's smile, until all of us learned that Lander was looking for the best rookie erection. We all stood shyly, covering our dicks with our hands and clothes, until Asst. Captain Tormey said "You rookies have two choices - get your best boner right now, or take off. If you put your shorts on and take off, you'll never make the team. None of us will ever pass the puck to you, parts of your uniform and equipment will disappear, and you'll be looking over your shoulder to see who's next to check you into the boards. I'd start stroking my weiner right now if I was you." And we all did. We all wanted to be college hockey players, we had trained since age six to be players, and we weren't going to quit after a little hazing. Ryan's winning softie proved to be a shower, not a grower, at five inches stiff. Pat was most embarrassed in a proud way, with nearly seven hard inches and could have burst a toilet paper roll, if tested. Mark had another shower, big and strong at six inches, and The Tulip and I were each about five and a half. Ryan was now running at the back of the rookie pack. On the fourth day, the veterans had arranged for us to `accidently' meet the soccer team at the top of the hill, and we got a juicy look at the six naked soccer boys as we took a water break. Hockey is the major sport at Vermont, with season after season of sold-out games and national rankings, but soccer does well as a fall sport since there is no football team. New England's many prep schools supply both teams with talented recruits. Both teams annually bragged about themselves and their toughness, when they met in the trainer's room or weight room, and Lander took this water break chance to try to promote hockey, and to haze the rookies too. `Our rookies are the toughest,' he says, prompting the soccer boys to perk up and take a hard look at our naked bods. `You may have toughness,' says the soccer captain, `but we got the cocksmen. We got a rookie dick that's tops on campus.' Quickly there were lots of glances at the soft dicks on each side, as Lander says `we'll accept that challenge, but the loser has to kiss the peters of the winner's team and jerk-off right here.' The kickers already knew who their entry was - a tall blond named Kyle - and they surrounded him confident of a win. We gathered around Pat, hoping he could stick up for all the hockey team. `We've won this three years in a row,' said Gernander, a big defender, putting a little more pressure on Pat. He started stroking, as we stole glances, hoping his seven would win. After the allowed two minutes had passed, the two cocktestants held up T-shirts hiding their entrees, and stood in the center. At the signal, the T-shirts were dropped, and Pat's big seven gave hockey four straight wins. The losing blond turned an embarrassed red all over, and started to walk away, but our Captain reminded him of the payoff for the bet - kissing our dicks and jerking off. We rookies lined up, all with semi-hard ones. Kyle knew what was expected, and probably also knew he would get more hell from his teammates later. He just bent down in front of each of us, and gave each dick a very quick peck. He then sat down on a log, spread his legs, and stroked his almost-seven with his right hand, while fondling his nuts with his left. After several minutes, he looked up at his captain, saying `I can't do this in public.' `OK,' said our Captain, `either make it cum or give the winner head.' Suddenly he was stroking with renewed vigor, and produced a good five shots in about two minutes. We all gave him a round of applause, and resumed our run. ------------- Our first scrimmage was at Northeastern, a two-hour bus trip leaving campus at noon and playing at 7:30. All five rookies got to dress for the game, but only the two defenders played regular shifts. The Tulip was the third string goalie, not playing. We lost, 7-4. For the trip home, each player got two cans of Coke and half a pizza to eat on the bus. The veterans took the seats in the back, and the rookies and coaches were near the front. It seemed like a good chance to talk hockey with the coaches. After the Coke and pizza was gone, the coach returned from a trip to the bus restroom, and told us the captain had called a meeting and we should all go to the back of the bus. The fun started when we got back there and the seniors said `Welcome to the team.' The welcome was followed by `Boys, it's time to get to know your teammates - to know them real well - get naked NOW.' Several big players had moved between us and the front of the bus, so retreat was not available. We were only wearing sweat pants and T-shirts, so it didn't take long. The naked rookies were ordered into the bus rest room, a tiny booth just large enough for a sink and toilet. The single tiny light bulb had been removed. Soon our clothes - tied in tight knotts and mixed together - were thrown into the dark bathroom, and the door closed. `Come out as soon as you're dressed," said a senior. Naked running and erection contests had annoyed us, but this was almost too much. The Tulip - still mad about his third string status - tried to talk us unto just walking out and taking our clothes up to the front. Pat and Ryan convinced us, though, that this was just part of being on the team, and probably all of the older guys had gone through the same crap, and next year we could get even with the next rookie class. Maybe we could even make them do something worse. `Don't look now,' said Mark, changing the subject, `but I've got a hard-on.' `So do I,' said someone else, `give me my boxers.' The boxers, and all the other clothes, were still tied in knots, and only occasionally did our tiny prison get lit up by passing cars or lights. We struggled to find our own boxers, and to get the knots out. Occasionally, one of the hard-ons got touched, producing gasps of protest, and more touching and mock wacking. We were about three-fourths dressed when we arrived back at campus and our rink, Gutterson Fieldhouse (The Gut), and the restroom door opened making our job quicker and easier. The bus driver smiled knowingly as we finally got off the bus. (continued in part two) ---------------