Newcomer in town, Benny Leone’s, brings a new pizza joint for the post-bar crowds, hungry students, organization meet-ups and anyone looking for a quick bite.

Based in Virginia, the Benny franchise continues the chain, opening their third shop in Pennsylvania at 109 S. Fraser St.

Since its grand opening on June 11, the pizzeria has attracted attention with the aroma of fresh pies drifting out the door.

Standing ready behind the counter on day one, Aliana Higgins was excited to sell the name and flavor of Benny Leone’s.

“We make good pizza, not fast pizza,” Higgins, an employee, said. “That’s the Benny franchise’s personal message.”

With $5 per cheese slice, they also include toppings like pepperoni, garlic mushroom and Italian sausage for $6.

Meat and vegetable special toppings will rotate on a monthly basis. As for the month of June, the option for chipotle chicken and bruschetta is on the spinning wheel.

Co-owner Colin Farrell highlighted Benny’s mission was to serve high quality pizza at a reasonable price.

The chain has also dished out their “signature 28” pies” in all locations for larger gatherings, making Penn State’s large organizations the perfect customers.

Being a student at Penn State herself, Higgins described the environment as welcoming to not just students, but anyone in the area.

“This is the kind of place where you just come in, make conversation and just chill for a second,” Higgins said. “It’s already shown itself to be that kind of space.”

The name cleverly nods to Penn State’s mascot as ‘Leone’ is the Italian word for lion.

As an experienced chef around State College, Julian Vitaglione reflected on what drew him to work at Benny Leone’s.

“Part of the appeal here specifically is we do everything from scratch,” Vitaglione, an employee, said.

Flour, olive oil, tomato sauce and meat are prepared in house to ensure a fresh flavor for the customers, according to its website.

Being the 10th kitchen Vitaglione has worked in, he expresses gratitude for the pizzeria’s work atmosphere.

“I’m really glad to be a part of a nice functional team,” Vitaglione said. “Just a small operation that is simple.”

Part of the franchise’s public pull is the interactive opportunities available.

The Benny’s Challenge is where someone has to eat one of the 28-inch pies entirely under 28 minutes with a prize of $280.

According to an interview with the Centre Daily Times, Farrell emphasized the amount of people that enter the challenge will also be the amount that fail but said, “The challenge is a lot of fun.”

Farrell noted his familiarity with the college town crowd.

“I started at the original location at Virginia Tech, where I used to go to school,” Farrell said. “Before I graduated, I started working just as a part-time thing.”

Aiming at the crowd that never sleeps, Benny Leone’s will be open on weekdays until 1 a.m., and Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays until 3 a.m.

Born and raised in Bloomsburg, Farrell turned what he at first thought to be a part-time gig, into an expansion of the franchise.

“I really fell in love with the business model,” Farrell said. “So, here I am bringing it a little closer to home.”

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MT. PLEASANT, Mich. — The fictional hockey world had the Hanson brothers, a bespectacled trio who came to the Charlestown Chiefs from the North American Hockey League, where gooning it up was a way of life. The nonfictional Ice Wars, which came into existence with its first-ever event this past Saturday at the Soaring Eagle Resort and Casino in the middle of central Michigan, has the LaPorte brothers, Nick and Will, 6-foot-6 hockey specimens who throw hands more for simple pleasure.

It was a wild scene in Mt. Pleasant for the inaugural event, which functioned as an arm of the Bare Knuckle Fighting Championship. It had been dubbed Ice Wars: Battle of the Border. The center of the action was a miniature 800-square foot rink, known as the Ice Box, enclosed by pliable wooden boards. Along the side sat the VIPs, who were close enough to the action at times to whisper sweet nothings into the bleeding ears of the combatants. The ice lay like a sheet of porcelain, virginal in its whiteness, yet ominous too — as if quietly anticipating a crime scene.

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In fact, if you looked closely, you’d see that it wasn’t ice at all; it was “synthetic ice,” which is an elegant way of saying plastic.

The only thing frozen in the room were the daiquiris up top. Had a Zamboni come through it would have wrecked the whole rig.

Each one of the 20 total fighters — half of them Canadians, the other half American — made the walk across a stage and through fountains of shooting sparks. They wore blade protectors on their skates, which they slipped out of as they pulled up ice-side, the way UFC fighters remove their shirts. The referees, sporting helmets and striped shirts just like you’d see in an NHL game, made the scene almost comical. All the familiarity of hockey with nary a puck or a stick in sight.

The fighters wore gaudy yellow hockey jerseys, which could be spotted from the nosebleeds easy enough. Not that there were nosebleeds. The ballroom was intimate, with a seating capacity just over 2,000, and more than 1,800 of those seats filled with curious onlookers, many of whom delighted in the novel approach of taking the game of hockey out of the fighting.

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“I’ve had fights in MMA, and this is the most fun fighting I’ve ever had in my life,” super heavyweight Zach Hughes told me perhaps 45 minutes after he got flattened by Catlin Big Snake, a.k.a. “The Chief,” a slab of humanity from Alberta who not so long ago dressed for the Monroe Moccasins of the Western Professional Hockey League. “All the guys here are great. Me and ‘Chief’ have already been sitting here bulls***ing after the fight.”

The founder of Ice Wars, Charlie Nama, warned me that it’s a different vibe than other combat sports. That the guys who were swinging hammers at each other’s heads would be drinking beers together within an hour of the stitches being cinched. He wasn’t wrong. The bar was full of barroom brawlers who just happen to know how to skate, most of them based north of the Great Lakes. Many of them had lush playoff beards too, even if the closest playoff team to Mt. Pleasant was over a thousand miles away in Edmonton.

After each introduction, the players skated forward in the Ice Box, circling each other just like you’d seen when they drop gloves in the sanctioned hockey world. You could feel the spirit of “Tie Domi” bouncing off the walls. Then they’d start swinging, which can be exhilarating for an offshoot combat sport that isn’t entirely sanctioned.

In fact, it’s not sanctioned at all!

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(Except for in Wyoming.)

Nobody was losing time thinking about taboos or niches, though, because the rounds are 90-second affairs, and this is an action league. The fighters would grab a fistful of jersey, then jostle each other toward their incoming fists. Lots of jerking, twisting and thrashing, a sadistic little tango. The fists crashing off of helmets fast and furious. Uppercuts finding a home for those who tried to plant their head into a chest. Short, quick punches, looping right hands. Guys wincing, skating off with dangling arms. Holding their rib cages from unexpected body shots, or from crashing into the synthetic ice. There was blood which had to be squeegeed off from time to time.

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If there was a surprise, it was that the first three fights all went to decisions, because the idea of Ice Wars is to create knockouts. Viral knockouts. The kind of thing that might grab attention when sliding down a scroll.

The first finish came when Nick LaPorte, one of the twins who happens to be a cast member on the Canadian television show “Shoresy,” scored a TKO over Matt “Dunner” Dunn. The crowd let up a tremendous roar as he got his hand raised. LaPorte had predicted to me he’d finish his opponent in 11 seconds the night prior while crushing a pizza at the Soaring Eagle food court, which turned out to be ambitious. As it stood, he did so in just under a minute.

“The ice was a little tougher than I thought,” Laporte said afterward, showing me a fun cartoon graphic he’d made which said “Dunn in One” on his phone. “I had to get moving around a bit just to get a little bit more of an edge. After that, nah, it went exactly as I thought it would. I thought it was going to be quick and it went exactly like I thought.”

As for the judges, three of them sat at opposite corners of the Ice Box. There was four-time Stanley Cup champion Darren McCarty of the Detroit Red Wings, who had a stringy Layne Staley-like braid in his beard (which was pink). McCarty made a name for himself when he made Claude Lemieux turtle up in a fight at Joe Louis Arena. At one point, when a kid named Andre Thibault from the French-Canadian league (a veteran of hundreds of fights) shoved Elias Thompson’s head over the boards near where McCarty was stationed, the Detroit legend turned and gave an approving nod to his fellow judge sitting down the way.

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That would be Jon “Nasty” Mirasty, one of the meanest SOBs to ever play hockey. He was notorious for laughing during his fights, which were plenty. He spent time on the Danbury Thrashers, a minor league team which inspired a documentary about the style of play (fights, fights and more fights). He was still rocking his traditional mohawk, and his nose lay a little crooked across his face.

The last judge was Frank “The Animal” Bialowas, who racked up his share of penalty minutes too. He played four games for Toronto Maple Leafs and had 12 penalty minutes. In 1993 alone, he had 352 penalty minutes while playing with the St. John’s Maple Leafs.

“I’ve fought everybody there is,” he told me.

And when I inquired about the scoring criteria, well, let’s just say it’s based more on expert gut feeling than anything scientific. There is no 10-point must system in Ice Wars. That kind of thing bores the hell out of enforcers on the ice. The fights are judged as whole, rather than round-by-round. “You just know who won,” Bialowas told me when elaborating. “You can tell.”

Were there moments when Ice Wars felt like a smoker show? Sure. There was a fog layer hanging over the synthetic ice surface, and there were a few “kick his ass Seabass” and “U.S.A.” chants to be heard. The low-rent nature of a first show wasn’t without charm. And there was royalty there, too. Thomas “Hitman” Hearns — the “Motor City Cobra” himself — sat up close to the action, watching a subgenre of the fight game find out if it has any legs.

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What was the man who stood toe-to-toe with Marvin Hagler in one of the greatest boxing matches of our lifetimes thinking as jerseys were being pulled over heads?

The only thing he’d offer was a gentle smile.

And in the end, it was a fight between Bay City’s own Ryan Snobeck and Alex Marchisell — or “Marchy” as he’s known up in the Great White North — that whipped the crowd into a frenzy. Snobeck had showed up in a patriotic speedo for the weigh-ins, so you knew he meant business. He and “Marchy” latched on and swung at range, mercilessly, absorbing whatever the other was willing to dish out.

The entire crowd stood. The commentary team of former UFC fighters Ian Heinisch and Chris Camozzi provided the soundtrack, as their play-by-play boomed over the speakers for everyone to hear. Including the principals themselves, who just kept slamming fists into the meat spots. It was a frenzied moment that perhaps showed the potential of what Ice Wars could be if enough caution is thrown to the wind.

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“I had 52 friends show up,” Snobeck told me after. “I had a high-school cheering section, and I did each of their tickets individually at the will call. I even did the seating chart for them. I wanted everybody to sit next to somebody that they enjoyed. I took a lot of pride in this whole thing.

“And when I met Alex, which I believe was Friday during the whole weigh-in, I said, ‘let’s put on a great show and throw punches,’ and we shook each other’s hand and that was it. That was it.”

Can Ice Wars catch on? It’s too early to tell, but the first show had its moments. One of my favorites was when Camozzi brought his BKFC belt over to face off with Esteban Rodriguez, and things got physical. Each fighter began leaning into the other, like linemen colliding at the line of scrimmage, and they were putting hands on each other with a shared thought running between them as the tussle dragged on — is somebody going to break this up?

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It turned out, no, nobody was going to break it up. Everybody just stood and watched. They tussled for at least 20 to 30 seconds, an eternity, with Camozzi at one point putting his hand around Rodriguez’s neck. Each looked around for the intervention.

Finally, somebody did step in, but it was a classic moment of a fledgling show. Some of the kinks will need to be worked out. Saturday’s event will debut on the BKFC app on Wednesday. The second card will take place in Alberta in two weeks. In a couple of months, Ice Wars will have a show in Tampa, which they promise will be the first with real ice. After all, you can’t be the Ice Wars if you’re fighting on plastic. Ice is central to the equation.

And so are the cult figures. The fictional world of hockey had the Hanson brothers, who put foil on their knuckles and roughed up vending machines. If Ice Wars can produce anything like the real-life equivalent?

Well, that’s what Charlie Nama and company are hoping to find out.

BOWLING GREEN, Ky. (WBKO) – Former Bowling Green student, Joshua Ratusny, has a passion for playing sports. He was born with moderately severe hearing loss, but that didn’t stop him from chasing his dreams.

He’s now training for the Deaflympics in Tokyo, Japan.

WBKO sat down with him to talk about what it’s like as a deaf athlete. One of his coaches, Ben Campman, translated the sign language.

Normal hearing ranges from around -10 to 25 decibels. Ratusny was born with a hearing loss at around 60 decibels.

As he grew older, his hearing loss only got worse; he now suffers from severe hearing loss in each ear, which is around 90 decibels.

Ratusny, a graduate of Natcher Elementary, Drakes Creek Middle School and Greenwood High School, has been playing sports his whole life.

He focused on ice hockey before swapping it for volleyball in college at Lawrence Technical University in Michigan.

With some learned time management skills, he balances his Mechanical and Manufacturing Engineering Technology degree with playing as an outside hitter on the USA Deaf Men’s Indoor National Volleyball Team.

“You know my heart just feels like, wow, this is really what it’s supposed to feel like, to have this real communication, real connection with the other players on the team,” he said. “We have such a strong connection with each other, and we have this shared experience and passion and struggle in the past, that it feels like the moment we met each other, we already had this bond. And that’s the first time that I’ve really had that work out for me in that way.”

Ratusny played on sports teams and worked with others who weren’t deaf, which he said can be challenging when people talk fast or aren’t respectful. He said the guys he plays with now have become family.

“They’ve been asked to shout their entire life, they’ve been asked to talk their entire life, they’ve been asked to communicate in the way that we think of people communicating their entire life, and now they’re finally on a team where they’re not being asked to do that,” Campman said. “They’re asked to be doing things that would work for them.”

On the court, deaf players rely on other senses like sight and emotions. On top of training, which Ratusny does on his own and with the team, he says team focus and their close bond is the key to success.

“If they’re just so locked in, so ready for the next point, obviously they can’t hear me shouting at them, so just making sure that we’re all ready for the next point, taking a quick scan of the courts to make sure we see everything,” Ratusny said. “Looking at our coach, ‘Does he need to tell me anything?’ No? Ok we’re ready to go.”

He realizes mistakes happen, but “we have to try to reduce them as much as possible with the things that we can do.”

Being deaf doesn’t define Ratusny, and he wants people to know that. He doesn’t want people pitying his “disability,” apologizing when they learn he’s deaf or brushing him off when he doesn’t understand what they’re saying.

He’s proud to be deaf and encourages everyone that they too can do anything they set their mind to.

“Have confidence. It doesn’t matter if you’re deaf, if you have any other barrier preventing you, don’t just sit in the corner; you have a right to play, be proud of who you are,” he said.

The Deaflympics will take place mid-November.

The team competed last year in Okinawa, where they placed fourth. Last month, they played in a tournament and won silver. Now, their eyes are on the gold.

Ratusny is also finishing up his last semester at college and is set to graduate this winter.

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