Timothy Gassen: Wildcats could use the support of The Chicken People now

For about 15 seasons, starting in the mid-1980s, he collected a band of brothers and sisters who seemed to live adjacent to the opponent’s penalty box, directly across from the hockey teams’ benches. They all waved rubber chickens, the traditional old-school hockey symbol of disdain for opponents. They made banners and signs. They led the home crowd in cheers.

They drove opposing teams nuts.

UA hockey players affectionately named this rowdy bunch of fans “The Chicken People,” and said their antics were often worth a goal, maybe even two, for the home team. These rowdy hockey fans became the definition of a home-ice advantage.

The Chicken Man was very strict with his credo for the penalty-box mayhem. No swearing. No racial or sexual epithets. No banging on the glass or throwing of objects. No obscene gestures.

Gee, to the average tipsy hockey fan looking to get rowdy, what’s left?

Ah, here in lies the longevity and success of The Chicken People: They were funny.

They would barrage players serving a penalty with surreal and infuriating musings about life. It was metaphysical heckling on an intimate level. Opponents would flip The Chicken People the finger, and The Chicken People laughed and applauded in unison. Opponents would throw stuff and squirt water on the fans, and The Chicken People would ask for more.

They held newspapers in front of them and chanted “Boring!” when the PA announcer read the opposing team line-ups before the game. They’d point at opposing goaltenders after they gave up a goal and chant, “He shoots, he scores!” and then, “It’s all your fault!” — traditions that thankfully still endure.

This was psychological warfare on a level most college hockey players could not comprehend.

The Chicken People’s greatest success came against archrival Arizona State, both at home and in Tempe. The old Icecats won more than 60 games in a row during a streak that ran until about 1996.

During this era, The Chicken People managed to drive ASU players so nuts that they earned penalties for attempting to climb over the glass, poking the UA fans with sticks, and punching referees — all to get to the rubber poultry madmen.

In one beautiful moment, an ASU player threw his hockey helmet at The Chicken Man. He calmly caught it, strapped it on his own head, and stuck it over the glass for the ASU player to whack with his stick. You could see the ASU player gulp hard — without his helmet, he couldn’t finish the game.

The Chicken People laughed and laughed.

The antics on the road grew even more absurd. The rubber chickens would show up in San Francisco, and Fargo, and especially Tempe. They’d eavesdrop on opposing locker rooms, and then chant the coach’s futile orders after each UA goal.

For longtime rival Penn State, they learned the Lion’s verbal signals used to change players “on the fly” — and then shouted them across the ice randomly. Ever see nine players on the ice, at the same time, for one team? The Chicken People sure have.

The Chicken Man so flustered one opposing defenseman — yelling “Shoot!” at the perfect moment — that he shot on his own goaltender. That almost became a major fight — between the two players on the same team.

As Gene Kelly sang, while The Chicken Man danced next to the penalty box, “That’s entertainment!”

Arizona State is back in town this weekend to renew this ultimate rivalry, and the TCC sure could use a few new Chicken People. The past decade of dominance belongs to ASU, and the Cats must win at least one of these games for a shot at a berth in next month’s national tournament.

The UA hockey team finances are also at a crisis point. The team needs fans in the seats.

I’d love to see Tucsonans head to the novelty stores, gather up some rubber chickens, and rally around these Cats. Tucson hockey fans, a lot of them who still look a lot like me, don’t think the fun should ever end.