Hockey. More than a job.

One club. One city. One feeling.

There are jobs. And then there’s what hockey does to you. Noise, pressure, doubt, adrenaline — and right in the middle, a club full of people who push far beyond their limits.

Voluntarily. Again and again.

For many years now, I’ve had the privilege of helping represent HC TIWAG Innsbruck on the outside. Not just with photos — but with stories, with attitude, with a language that smells like sweat, heart, and passion. Hockey, simply.

I’m allowed to make moments visible that would otherwise disappear. And I’m allowed to help build something bigger than myself: the identity of a club that isn’t perfect — but real.

And that’s exactly why it’s lovable.

South Tyrol in my passport. A shark in my heart.

I love being South Tyrolean.

I like the people, the dialect, the wine, the chaos of two or three languages at once. Terlan will always be home — and the Palaonda (now Sparkasse Arena) is only a few minutes’ drive away. My former workplace? Four minutes on foot. My lunch breaks? Right in front of the rink.

And still: in hockey, that place was never “my” living room.

I just can’t warm up to HCB Südtirol Alperia. No drama, no feud — simply my personal hockey reality. Many of my friends cheer passionately for Bozen, and I still can’t fully understand it. That’s how rivalry in sports should be.

There are things about HCB one can respect — and things I question for myself.

But that’s exactly what it is: my opinion. Not an attack. Not a debate.

This text isn’t aimed at anyone — it’s my personal comment as someone who has landed both professionally and emotionally with the Haie, and is exactly where he should be.

Behind the scenes

What often looks like “a bit of social media” from the outside is, in reality, nonstop work. We’re talking about people who burn for this club.

Not just on the ice, but behind it: graphics, texts, videos, stories, photos, interviews, sponsor content, gameday communication, crisis communication — and everything preferably done yesterday.

Many of us go far beyond what is actually reasonable. We go where it hurts: long days, short nights, decisions under pressure, criticism from outside, self-doubt inside.

And still, everyone is back at the next gameday as if nothing happened — camera in hand, laptop under the arm, knife between the teeth.

Not because it’s a perfect job.

But because it feels right to work for this club.

For these players, these fans, this city.

Identity

We’re building something here that you can’t order in a workshop:

An identity.

Not the kind you put on a PowerPoint slide. But the kind fans feel when they enter the arena. The kind players sense when they put the shark on their chest. The kind sponsors understand when they realize: “Okay, something real is happening here.”

That doesn’t happen overnight.

It takes people who stay even when results aren’t good. People who stay motivated even when morale hits the floor.

We’re not yet where we want to be.

But we’re definitely not where we were a few years ago. And that feels good.

Between criticism and heart.

And yes — it would be a lie to say I don’t see what gets written.

Forums, comments, anonymous nicknames, familiar names: for years, there have been voices expressing frustration about the club, about decisions, about communication.

Some of it hurts.

Not because criticism is forbidden — without criticism, nothing moves.

But because many don’t see (or don’t want to see) how much heart, time, and life goes into this work. How many people go far beyond anything written in a job description.

I read all that.

More than would be healthy.

Some I put aside because it’s just frustration. A lot I take to heart. I try to learn from it, to adjust things, to improve things.

In the end, there are people on both sides: On one side those who pay, come, criticize, celebrate, get disappointed. On the other side those who try to make the best of it — not perfect, but honest. Maybe that’s the point:

A little more understanding wouldn’t hurt anyone.

More than a job.

For me, HC TIWAG Innsbruck is long past being “just a job.” It’s a place of trust. A club that lets me be close — often closer than comfortable. And a group of people who choose, again and again, to push past their own pain threshold because this club means something to them.

I get to tell their stories. Their good days, their bad games, their comebacks, their injuries, their laughter, their frustrations. I get to show who they are — not just what the boxscore says.

Hockey is more than a job to me.

It’s responsibility for images, for emotions, for moments that won’t come back. And yes — it’s also the responsibility that a club like HCI looks on the outside exactly how it feels on the inside: not perfect, but real.

Real. Raw. Ready.

Wir sind Haie.