Alright BIIHers and fans around the world, with playoffs just days away and no games left to hide in, I know what some of you are doing. Suddenly you’re locked in. Talking systems. Hyping the boys in the group chat. Maybe even pretending you’ve liked your teammates all season. All in the name of showing up on Saturday like a completely different player and hoping that’s enough to get your name called at Awards Night.

To that I say, forget it.

Because the awards you’re chasing? Safe. Predictable. Sanitized. A polite little handshake and a plaque for doing what you were supposed to do anyway.

That’s not what this league is about.

This is beer league hockey. This is missed backchecks, bad decisions, great stories, and even better lies about how it all went down. This is parking lot leadership, Dirty Tony’s loyalty, and that one shift you’re still thinking about three days later.

So I’m stepping in.

No votes. No committees. No “well-rounded player” nonsense. These are the real awards. The ones BIIH won’t give you. The ones you actually earned.

And if you win one… just know I’ve been watching.

Rookie of the Beer

Let’s face it, the All-Seeing Puck doesn’t really care about new guys. Yeah yeah, fresh blood, hidden talent, “couldn’t make the pre-season skate but trust me I’m elite” – we’ve heard it all before. You might fool the captains, maybe even put up a few points, but that’s not what I’m watching. I’m not here for what you did on the ice. I’m here for what you did in the parking lot.

And to be fair, a few rookies gave it a real run this year. Dima made multiple confirmed appearances at Beersmith’s, which already puts him ahead of half the league. Scott Bachor… I never actually saw him drink a beer, so we’ll leave that one open for review. Futerman was making a serious push for Rookie of the Beer before God stepped in and shut that whole operation down early. Tough break, literally.

But the ASP calls it clean. No bias, no mercy. This year’s Rookie of the Beer goes to the hockey brand, vacuum cleaner himself, Easton Hoover, who showed up midseason and somehow drank like he’d been here for a decade. No warm-up, no pacing, just straight into the deep end. Hot, sloppy, and exactly what this league is about.The Ghost of BIIH Past

ASP understands people leave. I don’t respect it, but I understand it. Apparently life continues outside BIIH, which feels like a bad decision but okay. That’s where the Ghost of BIIH Past lives, the guys who are gone… but not really gone. Still lurking. Still watching. Still chirping like they never left.

We had some strong hauntings this year. Clarky and Donny putting up elite minutes in the group chat, Jani rising from what I can only assume was a Mintu-induced dicussion with
Dormammu to drop a couple perfectly timed one-liners, and JZ, former Expos captain, reappearing like a hockey historian to deliver a full scouting report on what sounded like a senior men’s pickup game in Bangkok. Detailed, committed, and absolutely unnecessary.

But there’s only one true ghost. The one who refuses to fully cross over. This year’s winner is Noah. A brief sighting early in the season, luggage tag still attached, just enough to remind us he exists. No follow-up. No closure. Just vibes. And honestly… with playoffs coming, this feels like the kind of moment where a ghost might show up one more time.The Snus Stealer

If this were last year, we’d be talking about Selley and the Great Vape Heist. A darker time. Less civilized. But like all things in BIIH, we’ve evolved… or at least shifted addictions. Welcome to the era of snus. Lip pillows. Whatever you want to call it, just know one thing, nobody ever seems to have their own.

And don’t worry, ASP hears everything. “Yeah I ordered some, they’re just not here yet.” Sure. “I left my tin at home.” Of course you did. “Just one for the road.” It’s never just one. It’s never your road. It’s always someone else’s tin. TripleW’s been circling. Richie’s had his moments. This is a deep, talented field.

But there’s one name that keeps coming up. One repeat offender. One guy who somehow never has a tin but always has a lip in. This year’s Snus Stealer is Tilo. Blonde hair, good looks, just enough charm that nobody says no, and suddenly half your tin is gone before first puck drop. Tilo, buddy… buy a tin for the boys. It’s time.The Box Commissioner

Now I’ll be honest, a little disappointing this year… same old bodies in the box. No fresh legs, no new energy. This league doesn’t run itself, boys, someone’s gotta step up, figure out the box and actually commit. Instead, we had the usual suspects rotating through, half in, half out, barely paying attention. The Expos basically treated it like a lounge, Ames, Taylor Kelly, Richie… more focused on drinks than what was going on inside the box. Mark Mungo popped in just long enough to poke around and bother the people actually working the box before sliding right back out. Jordy, Wes, Commish… the vets, dependable, comfortable in the box, know their way around it by now.

But then there’s one guy who doesn’t just sit in the box… he lives in it.

This isn’t casual for him. This is preparation. This is craft. Hours spent building playlists, fine-tuning the announcer voice, tapping away at the iPad like he’s running Game 7 at the Scotia Bank Arena instead of a Sunday night at ORG (JOKES, no chance in hell the Scotia Bank Arena will see a Game 7 in this lifetime). He’s not just in the box, he’s controlling the box, owning the box, becoming one with the box. Honestly, if there were a door, he’d probably lock himself in.

The Box Commissioner, and this should shock absolutely no one, goes to Cuttsy. A man fully committed to the box in ways the rest of us simply aren’t ready to understand.

May he, one day, explore other boxes… but let’s be honest, nothing will ever compare to this one.

*Yes, that’s Cuttsy in the box fiddling with the computer after the lights went out.
Vibes Only

Now I say it all the time, BIIH isn’t really about hockey. It’s about the beers, the parking lot, the questionable decisions, and the friendships you only remember half of the next day. But some of you… took that message, stretched it, and completely ignored the hockey part like it was optional fine print.

We’re talking guys who look like they’d rather be doing literally anything else. Cleaning a hutong bathroom with their bare hands. Sitting through their ex’s wedding speech in the front row.  Waking up hungover in someone else’s apartment with no idea how they got there. And honestly? I respect it. Showing up purely for vibes, just here to exist and maybe crack a beer after, it’s a bold strategy.

We had some strong contenders. Trav always looks like he accidentally wandered into the rink but, to his credit, there are things he hates more than hockey (softball), so he gets a partial pass. Asher? Please. Take the drink away and he looks like someone just told him he can never play golf again. But the undisputed king of “why am I here?” energy, the man who shows up every Sunday like it’s his first day on Earth, is Filly Z.

And what really separates him from the pack? He’s a captain. A leader. A man responsible for others. Which somehow makes this even more impressive. To be that committed to the vibes while actively being in charge… that’s not easy. That’s talent.QS King

Now I don’t know when QS became the official sponsor of BIIH, but I’m glad it did, because it gives me a reason to absolutely rip you guys for ending up there. It’s dark, it’s grimy, and it’s full of characters that look like they’re one bad decision away from becoming your problem. And yet, like clockwork, it gets floated every single night. “Only place open.” “Best noodles in Beijing.” Enough. Nobody’s there for noodles. You’re there to make choices you’ll pretend didn’t happen.

Strong field this year. Easton’s been to QS more in six months than most teams manage in a decade. Mungo and Taylor Kelly treat it like a second home, which says a lot about both them and the place. But there’s one guy who doesn’t just end up at QS… he hunts it down. Doesn’t matter the hour, the distance, or the logic. If QS is an option, he’s already on his way. Guy will hop on a bike at 4am like he’s answering a call.

That’s Scotty K. The QS King. Commitment level unmatched, decision-making nonexistent, and somehow still pulling out hat dance moves like it’s a talent show nobody asked for.The Camera Finds You Award

Now I know a lot of you think you’re good looking. And sure, on paper, we’ve got a few candidates. Tiger’s got the hair, Jordy’s working with elite eyebrow structure, Savitch somehow finds a way to look skinny while reffing in skinny jeans, which is a skill in itself. Respect where it’s due.

But this isn’t about looks. This is about what happens when a camera shows up uninvited.

Because the All-Seeing Puck has been watching. POG shots, parking lot photos, group chat evidence, and let me tell you, the camera is not your friend. Diener looks like he’s seconds away from snapping. Begley permanently looks like someone just asked him if Scotland is a part of England. DP? Eyes closed. Every time. Consistency, but at what cost.

And then… there’s Easton.

One photo. One moment. A face so haunting it doesn’t just live in the group chat, it lingers. The kind of picture that makes you pause, zoom in, and immediately regret both decisions. Not photogenic. Not unlucky.

Just devastating.

This one goes to Easton.The All-Seeing Puck Lifetime Achievement Award

This one isn’t handed out, it’s survived. Years of bad decisions, worse follow-ups, and stories that refuse to die no matter how many times you try to clean them up in the group chat. You don’t win this in a season, you stack it. Night after night, choice after questionable choice, until it becomes less of a phase and more of a legacy.

A résumé built on chaos, regret, and a level of consistency that honestly deserves respect. He’s broken the Parking Lot Trophy more than once, bailed you out of jail, organized the parties, stopped the fights, handed out suspensions, nearly won a Peking Cup, and somehow looked good doing it.

This one goes to the Commish.

We will miss you… but not nearly as much as the stories will.

You won’t win the Parking Lot.

-The All Seeing Puck