IT’S FRIDAY, November 17, an hour before the puck is scheduled to drop, and a crowd has already formed outside of Breckenridge’s Stephen C. West Ice Arena. Inside, the home team’s staff rushes to finish setting up for the first game of the season. Ice skating lessons and youth leagues take precedence at the venue, so the Breckenridge Vipers, an independent outfit that plays in Senior A, amateur hockey’s highest level of competition, couldn’t access the arena until 5:30 p.m. That gave them only 90 minutes to hang sponsorship banners, place cameras for the YouTube livestream, and stock the bars (as the liquor license holder, the squad provides its own booze and bartenders). It feels like the first day of school after summer break: Concessions staff who haven’t seen one another in months hug and catch up while they try to figure out the Vipers’ new point-of-sale system.
As the founder, all-time leading goal scorer, captain, and director of the nonprofit club, Richard “Rick” Batenburg III is at the center of the Vipers’ controlled chaos. With his bright plaid sport coat and carefully coiffed hair, he’s easy to spot as he patrols the arena. Batenburg’s day started in the morning in Denver, where he picked up a company van with logos for Clear Cannabis—the crown jewel of Cliintel Capital, his family’s marijuana-focused venture capital firm—emblazoned across both sides. The 33-year-old’s first stop was a Costco Business Center to procure supplies for the concession stands, then he ate a ritual meal of chicken fingers for good luck before making the two-hour drive to Breckenridge.
“Home openers are always a disaster,” Batenburg says as he finally heads to the locker room. No matter what calamities are unfolding, Batenburg tries to be with his teammates 90 minutes before the game starts. Still, his administrative duties don’t really stop; he fields questions from his executive team as he laces up his skates and discusses game strategy with his father, Vipers coach Richard “Rich” Batenburg Jr.
The atmosphere inside the locker room is tense. Some players are amped—“Let’s fucking go, boys!” someone yells—while others quietly stare into the middle distance. There’s uncertainty in the air. Tonight’s opponents, the Roughnecks from Rock Springs, Wyoming (population 23,000), are new to Senior A. About a month ago, at the Vipers’ fall camp, there were rumblings among the team that,
