Editor's note: With the Houston Aeros hosting the Milwaukee Admirals in Game 4 of the Western Conference Finals of the Calder Cup playoff Thursday night and in Game 5 Friday night, CultureMap is examining the state of hockey in Houston in a multi-part series. This time: The Aeros' atmosphere and the NHL dream.

It’s a bit of a hodgepodge, really. Ice hockey combines the frenetic pace of college basketball, the physicality of pro football, the fisticuffs of boxing and the easy to follow flow of soccer (albeit much, much faster). It’s an easy game for fans of other sports to understand.

The game is simple, fast, and brutal, kind of like the rodeo.

And then there’s the fighting. You can’t talk about hockey — and its appeal — without talking about the fighting. It’s the only game that bootlegged its code of justice form the wild west.

When two guys get into a fight, play stops, the refs clear out the way, and the arena crew plays music while the players engage in a one-on-one duel. The Springfield Indians used to play Stone Cold Steve Austin’s “Breaking Glass” entrance theme every time two guys dropped their gloves to square off. Talk about showmanship.

That, my friends, is why ice hockey is the most physically dynamic contact sport this side of rugby, which doesn’t work in America because it’d be too expensive to insure. Fighting is not only penalized with a slap on the wrist, it’s a celebrated component of the overall experience.

Hockey players are tough as nails. That’s no secret. If one of those guys collapses in a heap on the ice and doesn’t get up, it’s because he’s busy chatting with dead relatives. Perhaps soccer’s greatest sin is its tacit acceptance of flopping.

It’s one of the reasons that Americans will and should never care about the World Cup. That’s why the stock image of soccer in the mind’s eye of so many Americans is a greasy, long haired Argentinean pretending to be hurt (think Luis Scola, but prettier). The stock image of a hockey player? Bleeding and missing teeth.

Every so often, the NHL pretends it is concerned about fighting in hockey. Why? Because of the children. Won’t somebody please think of the children? (and because Islander goaltender Rick DiPietro got his face broken).

Fighting will always be part of the game because the NHL knows that children — like everyone else — love hockey fights. Imagine how much more fun soccer would be if the fighting wasn’t confined to the stands.

FIST PUMPING, DANCING GIRLS, AND MORE COWBELL

In spite of the beer consumption, intermittent profanity, and risk of facial contusions (all interrelated), hockey games are a comparatively wholesome, family friendly activity. That’s not to say there aren’t a fair share of hooligans acting like, well, hooligans interspersed among the relatively PG crowd.

To wit, my always classy buddy Doogie spent most of an Aeros' blowout against San Antonio back in December fist pumping to the dulcet tones of "Kernkraft 400" while muttering incomprehensible — and therefore benign — obscenities at the opposing goaltender through a haze of Miller Lite. Kids need to be exposed to this stuff in a controlled environment. It’s good for their development.

All kidding aside, the Aeros organization has gone so far as to institutionalize their family-friendly mantra.

“Since the new ownership group came in in 2003, we’ve put a premium on the family market through our group sales,” says former Aeros president Tom Garrity who now serves as a consultant. “Since that time we’ve been near the top of the AHL in group sales. We’ve priced ourselves for the family thing.

"You’re going to get more families when they know they can come to a game and not break the bank. The appeal is that you can come to Toyota Center and sit in the lower for for $12 per person. Because it’s minor league hockey, we’ve tried to price it very affordably. We’ve also tied in the mascot and dance team along with youth skates between periods and fun giveaways including everything from Snuggies to cowbells to really create a fun atmosphere for everyone.”

Yes, like in most arenas these days, there’s plenty going on that has absolutely nothing to do with the game: Some of it good (cheerleaders!), some of it not so good (dance contests, shitty electro-pop music). Then there are the Mighty Mites who come on to play between periods before the Zambonis clean the ice.

Nothing quite compares to the sight of a dozen awkward preteens chasing around a puck like cats after a laser pointer while the Looney Tunes theme is played to give it some dignity. Tee ball has nothing on youth hockey.

If you’re a sports fan who doesn’t follow ice hockey, I’m guessing you have at one point or another uttered the phrase, “but I can’t follow the puck.” If you have a problem seeing a black rubber disc against a stark white background, try these handy, dandy viewing tips: 1) watch the game with your eyes open; and if that fails 2) watch the players, because 95 percent of the time, they know exactly where the puck is.

There’s no doubt that hockey has always been (and largely remains) a predominantly regional sport; this in spite of the NHL’s foray into the Sun Belt during the 1990s. So who exactly are these folks who make up the Aeros fanbase?

The question, when asked, seems inevitably to lead to a two-part answer; the first identifying some far off, cold sounding municipality: “we’re from St. Paul” or wind swept state rust belt state: “I grew up in Western Pennsylvania.” Various points of origin are then inevitable followed by the by the suffix: butweliveherenow. Migratory northerners carry a love of the game southward with them like an heirloom quilt or the word “wicked,” usually aware that its significance is completely lost on the locals.

The Aeros diehards are just that, but there’s no reason to be intimidated if you’re going for the first time. Unlike irrationally provincial European football fans, hockey fans are friendly folk who are happy to see you there.

A particularly enthusiastic set of grandparents brought their grandson to a tilt again the rival Texas Stars in January. The trio — each in a replica Aeros sweater — stood most of the game cheering and frantically ringing cowbells. Cowbells are an integral part of the hockey fan experience.

Although one might make the mistake of assuming that it’s a Texas thing — giving the region’s proclivity for steak — it’s actually a northern tradition that started because it’s really hard to clap in mittens. Falling dutifully into the mold, the grandfather was from Illinois and the grandmother from Ohio, but have been in Houston since the Gordie Howe years. The trio hit all the right beats during the game, ooing and ahing along with the action and hurling insults at the opposing net minder.

It was enough to get you all warm and fuzzy inside. If a group hug had been offered, I would not have turned it down.

While attendance has shifted over the years, the Aeros' base has been strong enough to warrant intermittent consideration from the NHL. The Aeros ranked sixth in AHL in league attendance this season with a few clicks over 6,000 fans per game.

“We draw an eclectic audience,” Garrity says. “You have your diehards who are there every night, through the good and the bad, then you have family watching together and then people who come once or twice a year to support the local team.”

As recently as 2007, Houston was on the short list for its own NHL club; specifically the Pittsburgh Penguins, a franchise that barely survived the 2004-2005 work stoppage only to land wúnderkind Sidney Crosby in the 2005 draft (which was at least as rigged as the NBA draft when the Knicks got Patrick Ewing), hoist a Stanley Cup in 2009 and open a new state-of-the-art arena in 2010.

Ah, what could have been. Imagine it: a Stanley Cup in Houston. At this point it’s not any more far fetched than a World Series trophy.

Read the first two parts of the series:

Want to break out of Houston's Loserville? Jump on the Aeros' winning playoff train

How Gordie Howe built hockey in Houston: Inside the playoff-charging Aeros' legacy