NEW HAVEN — They arrived with sticks and pads, a handful of fond memories and plenty of heartache. They wanted to make a statement, but this was also a cathartic experience — a chance to visit an old friend, abandoned and forgotten and rusting out near the shore.

A group of about a dozen former fans marked the one-year anniversary of the closing of the New Haven Coliseum by gathering Monday under the shadow of the building for a game of street hockey.

It was a subtle gesture, said East Haven’s Joe Chieppo, but one that was necessary. Chieppo, 35, worked at the Coliseum for 17 years.

"I’d always envisioned I’d come back as a patron some day," Chieppo said, "and not come down here once a year to do this."

Chieppo arrived early on Sunday to set up the goals and, between the pipes, hang a pair of posters featuring Mayor John DeStefano Jr.’s face as the target — Chieppo is not a big fan.

City officials contend the Coliseum was a financial drain, losing hundreds of thousands of dollars each year. When it became apparent that the Coliseum was in trouble, the New Haven Ninjas — a semi-professional football team and last to play here — declined to renew their lease.

Now, there are plans to tear it down. Last week, city officials solicited bids from companies for the project. The process has been slow, and some have questioned why the city moved so quickly to make its decision.

Kevin Tennyson, 38, of North Haven, said he wishes there had been more public dialogue. Perhaps there could have been one last-ditch effort to drum up support, he said. Then again, maybe it was a lost cause. Look at what happened to the Ravens.

"I know a lot of people blame the mayor, and, of course, he’s the chief officer of the city," Tennyson said. "But I blame the public for not coming here and supporting the teams."

A season-ticket holder in old Section 14, a place once known as The Jungle, Tennyson arrived wearing a New Haven Beast sweater and a melancholy expression, like he was visiting a sick relative in the hospital.

This is a building rich with character: the double helixes that wind their way up the east and west facades, the long escalators that often broke down, the grim steel exterior.

"It’s definitely one-of-a-kind," Tennyson said, with a wry smile. "It’d be great if it would re-open. I know it’s a pipe dream, but it’d be nice."