You will find a wide variety of fans in U.S. Bank Arena during Cincinnati Cyclones games. Men, women and children; hockey novices and die-hard regulars like those in the fabled "Section 60" crew. They're all cheering, drinking and generally having fun.
Then there is the masked man with the wild hair who sits - lurks, really - behind the opposing team's goal. He grows more and more intense as the game progresses, hollering for his beloved Cyclones and vocally assaulting their unlucky opponents for the evening. The aroma of his customized jersey - emblazoned with the number 666 across the back - indicates it could use a little TLC.
Away from the ice, the man behind the mask is named Kevin Gadker. Here, however, he is known only as the "Heckler from Hell."
LOVE OF THE GAME
Gadker's alter ego has a bit of a storied past.
"The passion comes from (the fact) it's probably the only sport I cannot play," says the Amelia resident, Cyclones season ticket holder and admitted sports nut. "Baseball, basketball, soccer, football, you name it, I can play it. I cannot ice skate; I can do it just enough that I don't kill myself."
According to Gadker, 35, a man named Chris (last name unknown) was the first Cyclones Heckler from Hell back when the team played at the Cincinnati Gardens; at the same time, Gadker was occupying a similar role at the University of Minnesota Golden Gophers' hockey games. Once the Cyclones moved downtown and Gadker returned from his seven-year stay in Minnesota, he created his incarnation of the Heckler.
Calling his moments as the Heckler from Hell "my release, my anger management," Gadker has become a well-known fixture among the Cyclones players and fans. Being admired by children, though, is his favorite thing other than the hockey.
"I didn't know what to do earlier this year when I had my first kid come up to me and ask me for an autograph. I was like, 'What do I sign?!' " he says, smiling. "I just write the letters 'HFH' with the 666 on there. I've actually gotten more autograph and many picture requests as the season's gone on, but I don't get big-headed about it - it's like, 'Hey, I am somebody!'"
SCREAM FOR THE MOMENT
Player interactions and autograph requests aside, Gadker - who says he washes his jersey only at the end of each season - considers the Cyclones the best sports value in Cincinnati. "You can't beat it for $10 a pop; a movie costs that much, so it's very reasonably priced. And it's exciting," he says. "You're going to see a lot of heart and a lot of passion."
When that passion produces a championship, as it did last season, it's nothing short of "a dream come true."
"Seeing 12,722 people here for that final game on June 5 of last year was amazing. I had the hair on my arms and legs were standing up as I walked into the building, and I said to my girlfriend at the time, 'We're going to win this tonight,' " Gadker recalls. "They knew what it meant to us fans. Right after the game, they took the (Kelly) Cup to Cadillac Ranch downtown and started passing it around and filled it with every beverage you can think of. ... My drink of choice is Mountain Dew, so I had to, of course, put Mountain Dew in it."
And barring a change in his military status, Gadker will be heckling Cyclones opponents for a while.
"Honestly, I thought my reign was going to be over at the end of April. I tried to enlist in the Army, and they're trying to disqualify me and I'm trying to fight it, so I'm not going anywhere just yet," he says. "If you haven't been to a game and you sit anywhere near me after we score a goal, I put a fire truck's siren to shame."
