DESERONTO, ont. –Just minutes to game time, hockey fans are snaking up to the arena doors, eager to watch their beloved Deseronto Storm. Little children hop from foot to foot, unable to still their excitement. Giggly girls in tight jeans apply final coats of lip gloss.

Boys in hockey jerseys take deep drags from cigarettes before stepping in to watch their peers skate toward dreams of playing professional hockey in a country where the sport is akin to a national religion.

Spirits are high tonight in this town of 1,800, about 200 kilometres east of Toronto, which has been dealt some harsh blows of late. Industries have moved elsewhere, forcing residents to work in Napanee, Kingston or Belleville. Development is at a standstill because of long-standing land disputes between residents of the town and nearby Tyendinaga Mohawk Territory.

And residents are still reeling from the lurid allegations involving David Frost, who once coached the now defunct Quinte Hawks at this same arena and became notorious for the alleged Svengali-like control he had over certain players. Frost is charged with sexually exploiting two of his former players by having threesomes with them and their girlfriends in a Deseronto hotel room a dozen years ago. The verdict, due Friday, should bring some closure to the townspeople.

But at the arena, all those troubles are set aside.

"The Storm seems to bring us together," says the town's mayor, Norm Clark. "There's no politics talked about, no land claim talked about, no roadblock issues talked about; everybody is there, native and non-native. ... Everybody is there with the same goal – that the Deseronto Storm win their hockey game."

Outside the arena, a mural proudly announces that this is the home of the Deseronto Hockey Heroes.

It is a lofty term for the Tier II Junior A hockey team, a bunch of guys between the ages of 15 and 20 skating toward a scholarship with an American college or a spot in the Ontario Hockey League, two paths to the NHL.

In the parking lot, while rustling through their pockets for change to pay the $8 cover, adults agree it is a great deal for a night out in a town where the only other entertainment option is the local watering hole – called the Git R Dun Roadhouse.

The arena becomes a focal point, where pimple-faced, tobacco-chewing players are catapulted into small-town celebrities. Their games routinely attract about 350 people, their photos appear in local papers, their signatures are sought by star-struck children and their attention is coveted by gaggles of girls who hang out at the arena, earning the nickname "puck bunnies" or "Storm chasers."

But with the perks comes intense pressure to perform. This is where they'll make it or break it. They have come from as far away as Sweden, across the GTA and neighbouring communities – all with the same dream.

On this crisp Saturday evening, the bleachers are filling quickly.

This is hockey night in Deseronto.





THE NATIONAL ANTHEM begins. It is a sizeable crowd, but the stands are not quite filled to the rafters, as they were when the Hawks played here.

"The (Toronto) Maple Leafs could come to Deseronto and there'd still be people saying it's not the Hawks," recalls Cameron MacLean, who was in charge of the Hawks's publicity.

When the Hawks disbanded in 1998, the town suffered a "loss of identity" he says. "The town went from having something good to having it all taken away," says MacLean, who now lives in Kingston. "Hockey in Deseronto was like Friday Night Lights."

The void was filled in 2006 when the Deseronto Thunder surfaced, now called the Deseronto Storm.

But those early days weren't easy for coach Matt Barnhardt, a former Hawks player. It was tough to earn the trust of parents, still shaken by the Frost legacy. But with time, this local boy from the reserve who once played in the OHL has won their trust.

Town spirit is "back up" says Cindy Thompson, who billets a player from England and helps raise money for the team by knitting "puck bunny" ponchos, blankets and hats in orange, black and white – the team's colours.

"It's got the people reignited and passionate about hockey. And it's got people helping these kids to grow."

The support is a major boost, says defenceman Josh Fontana, who is originally from Scarborough. In Toronto, he says, fans typically consist of family and friends but in Deseronto, everyone shows up.

"Around the town, I have people saying, `Hey Josh, good game,' and some of them are people I don't even know."

He has no regrets about trading Toronto's Yonge St. for Deseronto's Main St., about five blocks of antique shops, greasy spoons and variety stores.

"It's the perfect place for hockey," says the 19-year-old, adding "there's no, like, real distraction."





BY THE FIRST INTERMISSION, the game is tied 2-2. Coach Barnhardt paces the dressing room. Few have the nerve to look at him.

"It's your hometown crowd, it's your puck, it's your game," yells the 28-year-old coach. "Mistakes are gonna cost you. ... First place is on the line."

The pressure is on. And not just in this game.

Life can be tough, particularly for players away from home who are dependent on the kindness of strangers. They are on a tight schedule, bouncing between school, work, the gym and the arena, with little time to do what boys their ages do, such as hunt and fish.

"It's almost like a religion," says defenceman Camron Edwards about coming to the rink everyday. "It's a way of life for some people."

But for Edwards, 18, from nearby Napanee, the hectic schedule is worth it, especially when he steps onto the ice before screaming fans: "It's a rush."

Players shrug off questions about pressure, saying it's par for the course.

Leaving family and friends in the summer of 2007 was "a small sacrifice" for a shot at playing in the NHL, says goalie Jens Kansell, a 20-year-old from the small town of Mora, Sweden.

This is the last year he is eligible to play junior A hockey and he has not received any offers. If they do not come soon, he will return home and play for a league there.

"The NHL feels pretty far away right now, but it's not impossible," he says.

For Fontana, the pressure is on to boost his marks in the hopes of getting a better scholarship than the one he deferred last year to Michigan's Finlandia University.

There are still dreams of playing in the NHL – dreams shared by his father, who taught him how to skate at 18 months on a frozen puddle in the backyard – but he is focused on taking the academic route and studying law along the way.

He is eager to please his parents. While he was growing up, they drove him to countless practices, spent hundreds of hours in chilly arenas cheering him on, and invested about $100,000 toward helping him fulfill his dream.

They still make the trek from Ajax to watch his games in Deseronto, occasionally accompanied by a caravan of relatives.

"When I was younger, what drove me was I wanted to play somewhere big one day, like the NHL," says Fontana. "Now, my dream is getting into a good school ... and taking it from there."

It's a game plan Barnhardt encourages. He passed up three scholarships to play in the Ontario Hockey League and says his hockey career was over by his early 20s. He had little to fall back on.

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"I'm pissed off that I missed opportunities," says Barnhardt, an ironworker by day. "I had nobody tell me to take (the scholarships). I just had them tell me to play harder."





AS PLAYERS EMERGE from the dressing room, 8-year-old Noah Brant, who has been patiently waiting, excitedly reaches up to touch their gloves and sticks as they march past.

This area is reserved for team members, but the youngster is given special access because he "idolizes" the Storm, says a team member.

"The Storm is like the NHL to him," says his mother Becky Brant, adding he keeps a hockey stick signed by all the players on display in his bedroom.

Such adulation isn't uncommon.

The first time Fontana was asked for his autograph he was bowled over. A young boy knocked on the door of the home where he was billeting and asked him to sign an 8x10 glossy of himself, along with other team memorabilia.

Barnhardt suspects much of the town's fascination, which "some of the guys feed off," stems from the fact that of all the places to play, they chose Deseronto.

Particularly fascinated are the town's young girls, who consider the local boys slim pickings and welcome the new crop of fresh faces each season.

The town is hopping with puck bunnies, say players, referring to hockey groupies or girls who have casual sexual relations with players. They're easy to spot at games. Huddled in groups, seated in the top rows and as close to the dressing room as possible, without appearing too eager.

"There's a lot of girls who wanna be with a guy for popularity," says Katie Anderson, 16, whose brother is on the team and who is dating a player on another Junior A team.

And for the most part, she says, players are happy to oblige.

"They just kinda switch girls. ... A lot of the (players) lie, they say, `I really like you' and then they'll dump you after they get what they want."

Most Storm players avoid the topic but Barnhardt jumps in.

"They come up to us after the games, and like a player holding onto a dream, they're holding onto a dream," says the coach, adding girls are crushed when guys they have had one-night stands with do not want a relationship. "Maybe they see these guys as a meal ticket."

So-called "puck bunnies" and casual sex are simply part of hockey culture, he says. Back when he was a player, he remembers being at parties playing cards with the guys, while a threesome was taking place, in full view, just metres away.

Barnhardt tries to keep this to a minimum while they're on the road and in other towns. He wants his players rested and focused for the big game.

Last year, when the Storm travelled up north for the playoffs, Barnhardt set a "No Girls" policy.

But shortly after their bus rolled into the hotel parking lot, the girls came knocking. Barnhardt left his hotel room door open, giving him a clear view of the hallway, and watched the gaggle of girls move from door to door, requesting players let them in.

No doors were opened, so they took their solicitations outside and stood beneath the players' windows. "It was -30 C and they were taking their shirts off," recalls Barnhardt.

MacLean, who saw his share of "puck bunnies" while on the road with the Hawks, points out, "These kids aren't altar boys, they're normal teenage boys, with normal teenage boys urges."

"When you're a teenage guy, with one thing on your mind, and you've got girls hanging off you, it's like the all-you-can-eat buffet is open."





THE BUZZER SOUNDS. The Storm loses 5-3 to the Innisfil Lakers.

It's a disappointing end to the night and nowhere is that more evident than on the faces of the players as they trudge toward the dressing room.

Fans trickle out of the arena, but some girls linger by the entrance.

Half an hour later, the players appear. They are showered and ready to hit a few of the postgame house parties.

After some awkward hellos, accompanied by giggles and blushes, the girls and boys step out into the empty streets of Deseronto.



