Plop

Killer Strawberries 2 Turbo Beavers 5

Game Report

March 12, 2012

It’s too bad the Killer Strawberries did not call up Salty, the team’s blind, one –legged canine mascot to bolster its roster on Monday night. It would have been a marked improvement.

The squad started the game shorthanded. Freight Train Laronde was visiting Fidel and Raoul at an undisclosed, all-you-can drink resort somewhere in South Cuba. Reports from undisclosed sources state that much Marxist philosophy has been discussed over endless Cuba Libres and Habana Ron Viejo shooters. Raoul is almost convinced the country should have its own Killer Strawberries franchise to promote goodwill with Canada and heavy drinking among the Cubaneros.

Dash Hound was nowhere to be found at game time. No card. No phone call. No email. “We’re not his stinkin’ girlfriend” ranted an unnamed member of the Executive. “The Strawbs are all about communication: on-ice and off. If you have to go to the VD clinic, let us now. We can get you the team discount.”

Shiny Sean Brightly was somewhere in Florida, ostensibly looking at real estate. Wethinks he was looking at other stuff. After all, it is spring break in the U.S.

On ice, it was a disaster of biblical proportions. The Strawbs were down 3-0 before the ice had dried. Certainly, the Marquis DeSave could not be blamed, according to the Marquis himself. “The coaching staff should never have relied exclusively on Trout Lake Driftwood to patrol the blueline. Do the math: 1+1+1= minus 8 on the night. Small pylons would have been more useful.”
As it was, the Vice was gulping air through his lower sphincter, the Butcher was as effective as the rhythm method and Gawdawful Gumby put 3 goals into his own net.” I haven’t seen this much rubber since the 2006 Pride Parade” lamented the distraught Marquis.
Up front, things were a little better but not much. Sure, 5 posts were hit, but a good team doesn’t let adversity get it down. Lil Wagner, the fastest guy on the ice, continued to mistake the end boards for the back of the net. The Turbo goalie got so confident that Lil would shoot and miss, that he had tea served in his crease during any shift involving the Beer Store employee. Mayor Maynot, the second fastest guy on the ice, was content feeling the rush of cold air through his disheveled locks as he gamboled aimlessly about the frozen pond, visions of RRSP trailer fees dancing in his head.

Dr. Thelonius Thug could barely move. Both his knees were encased in 7 pounds of bubble wrap and surgical tape, his left clavicle lumbered under the weight of the four ice packs strapped to his shoulder, a constant river of phlegm poured from his esophagus and his eyes were crusted shut. He was the team’s second best player on the night, and knocked over several pieces of the goalie’s tea service.

And where was MagBoy? By the end of the first period, the human hurricane was downgraded to “scattered showers with a chance of choking.” Twice he was set up for an easy tap in. Twice, he couldn’t get it up.
Pyjama Man, cheered on by his co-home owner, the gorgeous Loans Jones, floated about with all the redundancy of a eunuch in New Orleans bordello. His one shot on goal came of a flaccid flicker by the Butcher which PJ Man inadvertently deflected with his helmet toward the Turbo net.
The only ray of sunshine came from the Ice Marshall. He scored the team’s first goal on a solo effort. By ragging the puck for 2 minutes and 32 seconds, he killed the Turbo Beavers 5 on 3 advantage and then, using his new longer hockey weapon, riled up all the Beavers with his amazing stick work, swept in on the surprised pipeguarder and promptly deposited the biscuit in the lower left hand corner of the net, smashing the tea service to smithereens in the process. Now that’s leadership!

After the game, the squad retreated to the dressing room, in the knowledge that they had played their last game of the year. The garbage can was sterilized and filled with Scotch. Dr. Thug added the unmelted ice from his shoulder poultice. Straws were distributed and the boys gulped away at the golden ambrosia like it was St. Paddy’s Day. Miss White Go Go Boots was called and she arrived in her chartreuse limo, driven by an unemployed gravedigger with a lisp. She arranged to have each Strawb deposited at the location of his choice. Everyone chose the Terminal Tavren.

At the Tavren, Miss White Go Go Boots was toasted (or was it fried?). In any event, the sting of the year end loss was soothed away and, after a rousing team cheer, the squad dedicated itself to a Championship in 2013.

A garbage pail full of 20 year old Glenfiddich Extra Lovely, 411 brews of various provenance and the intoxicating promise of a better year next year were consumed.

One That Slipped Away

Strawbs 3 Legends 5 (en)

Game Report

March 8, 2012

With the team's official reporter, Flash Factual, in Hawaii, covering The Miss Curvaceous Contours World Championships, there has been a dearth of information upon which to properly file a game report of last night's tussle between the first place Legends and the underdog Killer Strawberries. Nevertheless, here is an approximation of what occurred according to the team's dog and mascot, Salty.

Wooof.Woof, bark. BARK. WOOOOOF. Scratch me behind the ears. OOOH! Ya! That's it. OOh! Woof.

No further details were available at press time.

Strawbs Victorious

Killer Strawberries 2 Battalion 0

Game Report

March 5, 2012

This report has been compiled from reliable rumours, innuendo,and an afternoon interview with Miss White Go Go Boots. The team's reporter, Flash Factual, failed to file a playoff game summary. He is thought to be at the Aloha Baby Compound, nursing a hangover.

The Killer Strawberries scored twice. The Battalion did not score at all. The team's shook hands at the end of the game.

Whiplash

Whiplash

Killer Strawberries 2 Canadian Legends 4

Game Report
February 23, 2012
Season Record: 13-4-3

With the Strawbs still carrying an extra 612 pounds of Christmas Season lard, the Canadian Legends cruised to an easy victory last night. Several cases of whiplash were recorded as the Strawbs attempted to keep up with the equivalent of the Jamaican 100 metre relay team. Without success.

Luckily the Marquis brought his A game and stopped at least 17 three-on-ones in the first period alone. Yet, despite the lopsidedness in team speed, the Killer Strawberries had 4 great chances to tie the game with under 2 minutes left. They pulled their goalie in favour of an extra attacker. Shiny set up shop in the slot and repeatedly tried to drive the puck through the opponent pucksptopper’s chest… without success here as well. Maybe the fifth attempt would have worked.

The loss dropped the Strawbs to fourth place in the league from their second position at game start. The team has not seen a drop so precipitous since Gumby dropped his wallet onto the floor when it was time to buck up at the Bull on March 17, 2003. He stills owes this writer his share of the $423.24 bill for that day’s festivities. The cheque must have got lost in the mail.

Given the lateness of the game and the unsatisfactoriness of the result, all the players went right home to bed. A huge drop in the standings was consumed.

Battalion Boggled

Killer Strawberries 4 Battalion 1

Game Report

February 16, 2012

Record: 13-3-3

It is a perverse Strawberrian pleasure to see the disgruntled looks upon the pimpled visages of its opponents at the end of a game which has just concluded in the Strawbs’ favour. Sure, the veteran squad has its speedsters: the swift Mayor Maynot, the truculent Lil Wagner and the on-the-edge-of-chaos MagBoy. But a hockey team needs just the right combination of speed, raw talent and experience. Even if most of the experience is of the dubious variety, the Killer Strawberries have oodles of it and use it to advantage on almost every occasion. There are many indicators of this invaluable accumulated experience: tattered equipment handed down in the sixties to some current Strawbs and still worn with pride, bottoms of hockey bags littered with stubs of medical tape, a cornucopia of concussions, crappy tales oft-repeated, and more gray hair than the Elysian Fields Retirement Home.

Last night, the Battalion, a good hockey team currently holding down 4^th place, were the most recent victims of a Strawberry hockey beating. At 10 minutes to game time, things did not look promising. The team’s goaltender of the moment was somewhere in Nashville, strumming his pain with his fingers. The replacement goalie could not make bail. The replacement’s backup was having his nails done. MagBoy, banned from the net for 10 years, 8 years ago, (with the Executive holding an option for a further 10 years of banishment) was scratched as a forward and relegated to the pipes. Miracle of miracles. It was as if Jesse The Leak, the squad’s only previous goaltender to be inducted into the Butthole Bottomfeeders Hall of Fame, was in charge of puck stopping. Impossible stops were made, defensemen cursed at and a softie let in. It was déjà vu all over again.

At the other end of the rink, the Killer Strawberries were efficient, potting 4 goals in the first period and coasting (panting?) through the second, knowing its own net was impenetrable. This reporter is unable to recall the names of the goal scorers, as he was forced to sign autographs in the lobby for the full hour. While not wishing to brag, said reporter has been invited to the Aloha Baby Compound in Oahu, home to the Strawberries’ inscrutable Executive. There, a dinner will be held to honour him for his new book, A Tale of Two Shitties, a retrospective on the glorious careers of the team’s founders and spiritual leaders, Rob The Torch (aka The Vice) and Ice Marshal Walpole.

Note: Dash Headlong failed to score.

After the game, the hockeyists rushed off to the Terminal Tavren to get their free copies of the Tale and to christen the publication with spilled beer and unrepeatable taunts.

4 Creemore, 2 Muskoka Cream Ale, 2 Bud, 16 Steamwhistle, 3 pounds of petrified poultry and fond memories of the team’s best ever goalie were consumed.

A Beau Tie

Killer Strawberries 2 Dirty Mike 2

Game Report

February 8, 2012

Record: 12-3-3

It was a start that would make Paunch Imlach roll over in his grave, had he not been cremated. Within the first 2 minutes of the first period, Dirty Mike and The Boys were already up 2-0. The Killer Somnabulents were in shock. Not since the early days of Jesse The Leak had they had such an inauspicious start. The D was discombobulated, the forwards disoriented and the Marquis DeSave caught up in some reverie involving the girl he met the night before at Fanny’s and a strange itching in his nether regions.

Fortunately, the Strawbs are made of stern stuff. After the wakeup call, they revved up the engine and began playing like they could. The first period ended 2-0. In the second, Shiny, taking a lovely drop pass from the streaking Ice Marshal, fired one from 40 feet and caught the corner of the net for the team’s first marker. A short time later, MagBoy, doing his best Freight Train imitation, used his whole body to ram the puck past a surprised Dirty Mike’s goalie.

To keep the opposition off balance, Lil Wagner thugged it like the Butcher would have had he shown up. Official excuse: early Valentine’s Day shopping or, as it really was, sniffing women’s lingerie at Sears. Lil Wagner chopped his way to 3 penalties in a single skirmish and was quickly relegated to the showers.

The team picked up the slack, played well then-on-in and gained a point in the standings.

Given the lateness of the hour, the squad forewent their usual pilgrimage to the Terminal Tavren in favour of a post game wrap in some stranger’s driveway across from Peter Palangio Arenas. The driveway’s owner, a lovely single woman of 26, who identified herself as Narcissa Nonsuch, joined the team in the impromptu celebration and contributed 12 Heineken and more than one highly appreciated tale of unsurpassed salaciousness. She was made honorary team captain. We are hoping to see more of her in the future.

24 Steamwhistle, 2 litres of MagBoysian homebrew and 12 Heineken were consumed.

STANDINGS (as of Feb 8/12)

CANADIAN LEGENDS ( 12 W; 0 L; 4 T; 16 GP; 110 GF; 48 GA; 28 Pts )
KILLER STRAWBERRIES ( 12 W; 3 L; 2 T; 17 GP; 83 GF; 47 GA; 26 Pts )
BARN MUCKERS (11 W; 3 L; 3 T; 17 GP; 97 GF; 60 GA; 25 Pts )
MIGHTY DUCKS ( 10 W; 4 L; 2 T; 16 GP; 102 GF; 66 GA; 22 Pts )
THE BATTALION ( 7 W; 6 L; 4 T; 17 GP; 50 GF; 52 GA; 18 Pts )
TURBO BEAVERS ( 6 W; 7 L; 4 T; 17 GP; 70 GF; 63 GA; 16 Pts )
SUNNYVALE CHARGERS ( 5 W; 7 L; 3 T; 16 GP; 55 GF; 67 GA; 13 Pts )
DIRTY MIKE ATB ( 3 W; 10 L; 3 T; 16 GP; 63 GF; 106 GA; 9 Pts )
CASEY'S CHIEFS ( 4 W; 12 L; 1 T; 17 GP; 46 GF; 86 GA; 9 Pts )
DRUNKEN MOOSES ( 3 W; 11 L; 2 T; 16 GP; 38 GF; 83 GA; 8 Pts )
AVIATION INVASION ( 3 W; 12 L; 2 T; 17 GP; 69 GF; 113 GA; 8 Pts )

Veterans Shine, Youth Lackluster

Killer Strawberries          4              Turbo Beavers   1

Game Report

February 6, 2012

Record: 12-3-2

Consistent championship teams, from Les Glorieux to the Gumby-led Boxing Day Roadhockey Reds, have all had this in common: a strategic mix of experience, youthful vitality and very good goaltending. The Strawbs, who like to include themselves in this august company, have invariably relied on this formula, much to its advantage.

This year has been a good one for the Strawbs. Despite some serious injury problems, they have managed to lurk menacingly at the top of the league. Sure, Dr. Thug continues to self-concuss and frequently fall victim to nagging colds and dementia. Sure, the Vice keeps injuring his drinking arm in freak accidents. Sure, the Butcher keeps taking Cialis at the wrong times. Yet, it is not the veteran element which is (w)orrisome.

In last night’s tussle, MagBoy scored a beauty and used his truculence diplomatically and wisely. Pyjama Man played like Beliveau, in part to impress his fans but more because that is who he is (PJ Man not Beliveau). The Ice Marshal showed the leadership qualities for which he is paid the big bucks and set the scoring tone early with a truly Bossian effort.  Shiny was solid but too often ignored as he roared towards the opposition’s net in perfect position to convert the pass that never came. The Vice made only one errant pass, much to the chagrin of the puckstopper, the Marquis DeSave, who, till that point late in the game, was nursing a certain shutout. Gumby was present even though often absent from his expected position.

It is the young legs which will have to step up their games if another championship is to be copped. Dash Headlong, recruited to score 50+ goals has been stuck at 1 for too long. But he makes up for his lack of production by bearing dressing room gifts for his elders. Mayor Maynot stills whistles all over the ice surface yet has been short scoring finesse as of late. True, it is RRSP season. Nevertheless, work should be left at work. Lil Wagner leads the team in shots off goal and needs to drink fewer comped ales at his place of work before each game.

Even with the problems listed, the Strawbs won last night in strong fashion. Its goaltending continues to improve and it will need to keep improving as the playoffs loom.

After the match, 96.72% of the team, plus MagGirl sporting her new red squirrel overcoat and matching hand warmer, reconvened at the Terminal Tavren to plot its payoff run and to point out to each other how their games could be improved.

10 Kokanee, 2 Guinness, 7 Steamwhistle, 5 Coors Light, 4 Bud, an Appletini and many pounds of flaccid fowl flesh were consumed.

Slow Start, Strong Finish

Killer Strawberries           4              Mighty Ducks     1

Game Report

February 2, 2012

Record: 11-3-2

For the third game in a row, the hapless Strawbs’ defence corps (corpse?) put another marker behind their own goaltender. This time, it was within 5 minutes of the opening whistle which quickly put the team behind 1-0. The Marquis was apoplectic and refused to return to his cage until Shiny Shone Brightly made a public apology for yet another of his regular faux pas.

For the rest of the period, our goalie was on high alert for traitors in his midst. The squad has never seen such concentration on his part. The Strawbs were pretty much impotent for what was left of the initial frame. Only the Ice Marshal showed any signs of handsomeness, virility and life as he tallied his 37^th goal in 15 games to draw the score to even.

In the second frame, the team really went to work but were stymied repeatedly by a hot goaltender, something that has been lacking in their own end for quite a few weeks. Shot after shot was rung of the Ducks’ pipeman or the iron as he did a remarkable imitation of Patrick Roy in his prime. The Strawbs, tenacious and hungry, kept up the pressure and were rewarded with 3 more goals to finish off a 4-1 victory.

The Vice finally returned to the fold after a recuperation absence of about 3 weeks. He had so much extra padding on top of his already expanding idle bulk that he looked like the Michelin Man before the Man went on a diet.

In this workmanlike victory, two other performances stood out. Lil Wagner continued his incomprehensible fascination with ringing the biscuit off the end glass. He had 22 shots on the night and the only time he laid one on net, he scored. He claims he has been trying to be too fine in his picking of corners. Gumby had to tell him there are no corners on the back glass. This was quite a perspicacious observation from a self-styled defenceman, who, having just purchased his first new stick since 1996, wanted to christen it with a goal. In order to accomplish his impossible task, the Gumbster repeatedly abandoned his defensive post to place himself in rebound position in front of the opposition’s net: to no avail. After failing time after time, he would grumpily saunter back towards the center line where his defensive prowess is always at its maximum. Result: 0 goals, 0 assists, 0 contribution. It was suggested he go back to old stick. At least that way, he would spend a little more time defending his own end rather than embarking upon his quixotic vision of becoming a goal scorer.

After the game, nobody went out to the Terminal Tavren, given the lateness of the hour and what was perceived to be too little time to properly quaff post-match ales, lagers and poultry parts. The team plans to make up for its unusual abstinence after the next game.

Clouds Over Sunnivale

Killer Strawberries 2 Sunnivale Chargers 0

Game Report January 26, 2012 Record: 10-3-2

Despite having more than 200 years of top flight hockey experience on the disabled list, the Killer Strawberries, bolstered by some fine goaltending by the Marquis DeSave, managed to pull out a 2-0 win over a confused squad of Sunnivale Chargers. Butcher Brophey (ACL, right medial lobe, foreskin), Dr. Thug (chilblains and rickets), Freight Train (hip, lip and grip) and Rob The Torch Greenfield (Glenfiddichitis) were unable or unwilling to suit up for the tussle. Management is detecting a pattern of abnormal absenteeism on evenings when Miss White Go Go Boots is entertaining the troops at Naughty Nina’s on old highway 63 (she is the hostess). Come on boys, we all know she is beautiful and alluring but hockey must be your first priority.

On defence, Pyjama Man once again showed why he is a perennial all-star in the Canadore Intramural Hockey League. It is not his accustomed position. (He is usually on his knees begging for forgiveness). Yet he patrolled the blueline with aplomb and with other attributes than can only be described with French words. Shiny was a workhorse, logging over 30 minutes, most of them on the ice. Gumby, not to be outdone, was outdone, yet put in, what was for him, a superior performance.

Up front, the play was a little scrambly. Much of this scrambliness was due to the fact that the team spent just over half the game making small talk with the scorekeeper, a cute little brunette with a weakness for sweaty retards. Lil Wagner was particularly offensive, taking 2 penalties early on. Three penalties and it’s the showers for you sucker. Lil W. was on his better behavior from then on in. MagBoy was a buzzsaw, Dash Headlong, a whirling dervish with visions of post-game Creemore dancing in his head. Mayor Maynot, fresh from giving a sermon at the local Lesbyterian church, was inspired and athletically effusive. The Ice Marshall was august and modularly post-coital. His broken leg did not in the least lessen his performance on the ice.

After several cold showers (the hot water was not working), the team reconvened at the Terminal Tavren to plot its playoff run and to discuss whether it should try to play a 40 minute short-handed game next time, just to see if it can be done. 12 Creemore of various ilks, 2 Guinness, 3 Steamwhistle, 1 Blue, 6 pounds of protean protein and talk of drafting some younger players were consumed.

PS: The Vice's bench bossing was stellar.

Strawbs in Action or the Ice Marshal Still Plays with a Stick Too Short

Strawbs Penalty Shot

Workmanlike Win

Killer Strawberries 6 Sunnivale 2

Game Report
Record 9-3-2
January 23, 2012

With Butcher Brophey out with a lacerated ACL, the Vice nursing a wonky elbow and Gumby studying up for his Doctor of Divinity with the Universal Church of Secondary Sin, the Strawbs still went on to defeat a demoralized Sunnivale Charger squad by a score of 6-2.

Even with Lil Wagner gooning it up with various opponents and spending time in the sin bin, the victory turned out to be an easy one. Pyjama Man, Shiny and Freight Train were solid on the blueline. The forwards were workmanlike and efficient, scoring when they had to, backchecking only when necessary.

The Marquis was not greatly tested between the pipes but did manage a few saves of note (but not noted here any further).

The Strawbs could have won this game with 6 Gumbys. Thank Gawd there’s no chance of that ever happening.

Those still awake at game’s end went out to the Terminal Tavren to get some real exercise. Four glasses of water and a grape knee high were consumed.

Trout Lake Driftwood lost on the snowy beaches

Killer Strawberries 6 Drunken Moose’s 0


Game Report


January 19, 2012


Record: 8-3-2


Players were missing from both ends of the age spectrum and the TroutLake Driftwood foursome were missing likely disoriented and wandering the lake during a freak snow squall.  Did someone say there was a case of scotch buried beneath the ice?  Alternatively they were supposed to meet in the middle of trout lake and discuss tonight’s game but like navigating the ice rink there was too much whiteness. They likely ended up on the boards, I mean shoreline.  If they exceed my expectations and survive to read this blog then note: Your attendance at the next game is optional.  Gumby please drop off the water bottles by 745. That is all.

During the warm up the opposing team skated about with over confidence as they stared across the red line at a squad of 6 who weren’t even bothering to warm up.  It was actually a treat to skip the pre-game line up lecture typically delivered in a communistic like fashion.

What the opposing Moose didn’t realize is that they ought to have sobered up before their grunts of assumed victory.  By the time the first period was over the strawbs line +1 was filling the net like a commercial fishing vessel on a Tuna run.  The Drunken Moose-es-says scrambled to crack the tireless defensive duo of Freight Train and Shinny by calling out the play that the leading forward should make upon crossing our blue line.  That may have worked if we were deaf.

The Mayor dipped and dunked, stole the puck from the Drunk’d.  Lill Wagner, Pyjama Man and MagBoy hardly let the puck cross our blue line except when we were setting up for the flying V.  Even the Zebra’s tried to crack the short benched Strawbs by calling questionable penalties including a 5 minute on Shinny who was later sent to the dressing room early, leaving the Strawbs with 4 on the ice and 1 in the box.   If it wasn’t for Marquis DeSave filling in for the missing defenseman and scoring a shorthanded hat-trick we wouldn’t have walked away with a 6-0 victory.

Half the team showed up to Terminal Tavren. By that I mean 3 players thus the highest post game attendance ratio to date.

4 Steam whistle, a glass of water, some simulated meat "on a bone" morsels and the effectiveness of a short bench win were consumed.