Search This Blog

Monday, December 17, 2012





Having completed his epic quest, your humble servant, the Butcher is
seen seeking wisdom for the executive, healing for Freight Train's
ankle and a better game plan

Saturday, December 15, 2012

A Commendable Defeat


Killer Strawberries    1    Barn Muckers    7

Game Report

Record:  3-7-3

With most of their team mates serving time as the result a small weekend fete which got slightly out of hand when invited professional workers refused to leave at sunup, the unincarcerated Strawberrian remnants put up a valiant defence in the face of highly talented enemy onslaught. The Barn Muckers, fast, nimble and cocky, were relentless in their pursuit of individual glory. Out the 8 shots allowed by the Strawbs’ patented “Muskox Defence”, only 7 found the back of the net. With a little better goaltending, the score would have been a lot closer.

The Strawbs had a seven man bench and a pretend goalie. By the last period, Freight Train Laronde, a pillar of solid play, had to leave because of a broken ankle sustained while blocking a rocket. He was adamant he would continue to play, a la Bobby Baun, but the team doctors had to order him to the dressing room. Down to 6 skaters, the team dug deep as the gasping noises from the exhausted remains almost peeled the temporary Target wallpaper from the boards. Even though they lost, the Strawbs were, to a man, paragons of courage, determination, grittiness and the je ne sais quoi of je ne sais quoi.

After the game, the team, sans Freight Train who was undergoing self-administered, anaesthetic-free ankle surgery in the parking lot, reconvened at the Terminal Tavren to catch their breaths and to lament a terrible first half to the hockey season. “At least were still playing” commented a philosophical Gawdawful Gumby, “unlike those NHL candy asses who won’t play unless they get their minimum $2 million per game. Whatever happened to playing for the love of the sport? Oh look boys, it’s one of the ladies from last week’s party. See ya!”

44 gallons of Frog’s Butt Ale, 3 pounds of chicken wings, and a lot of free oxygen were consumed.

Wednesday, December 05, 2012

In and Out of Trouble ... Again!

Strawbs win 6-4 against a rambunctious under-manned team of Predators.
 
Monday night’s game instilled hope in an otherwise deflated Killer Strawberries team. With the return of Marquis de Saviour and Gawdawful Gumby, the football-like scores from the previous weeks were reduced back to wins. One of these two players may or may not have had more of an effect on the outcome, and I’ll leave it to the reader to make his/her own assumptions.
Freight Train Laronde set the bar high even before the game began, dropping his bag in the vacated seat next to the Vice. The reverberating “thud” brought to everyone’s attention the recent void in The Strawbs' once bulletproof executive committee, now being questioned by veterans and recent acquisitions alike. The demotion of Ice Marshal to the Buttface Bottomfeeders after the team’s recent woes is seen as a surprise to some, a no brainer to others, and irony to all, as he receives the short end of the stick.
Butcher Brophy, rumoured to be absent due to a scheduled trip to North Korea after being recognized for his torturing techniques in front of the net, made an appearance at Pete Palangio, and an appearance was about the extent of his contribution to the team Monday night. The bruised legs of the opposing team beg to differ.
The final score was 6-4.
3 pints of Guinness, 2 pitchers of Steamwhistle, 10 pounds of wings, and a sweet and forgotten taste of victory were consumed.

Sunday, December 02, 2012

Looking In The Mirror


Killer Strawberries    4    Casey’s    10

Game Report

November 29, 2013

Record: 3-5-3

Despite the lopsided score of the last night’s game against Casey’s, the Killer Strawberries acquitted themselves well. The squad skated hard, generated numerous scoring opportunities and made its opponents earn their victory. It should be noted that Casey’s is made up almost entirely of Chancre College’s Varsity hockey team. From the Strawbs’ bench, it was like watching a younger, less handsome version of themselves, sort of.

The goaltending was vastly different from end to end. While he played a little better than the Marquis DeSave had in his two most recent outings, the Strawbs’ pickup goalie, tending the pipes for his second consecutive game of the evening, looked tired and more interested in the cold poutine he had placed on the top of his net. Casey’s goalie was stellar, robbing Strawb after Strawb with a quick glove hand or a well placed skate, or so contended Dr. Thug. Perhaps it was the Oxycontin talking.

The best play of the night belonged to Dr. Bonehead Butcher Brophey, a competitor so fierce, he once gnawed off half his own ass to streamline his body for more speed... unsuccessfully, of course. As an unsuspecting Caseyer came screaming down the ice, one on one, the luckless speedster attempted to beat the Butcher to his right. The attacker did not properly anticipate the well-placed hip which sent him flipping to the rafters and the Butcher to the Personality Box. The Strawbs captain asked the referee to increase the penalty to 6 minutes to mark the splendour of Dr. Brophey’s achievement.

Although he specifically asked this reporter not to mention it, the Ice Martian scored two goals and had one denied because of poor referee placement. "It's a team game" saideth the IM. "Wish we had one."

After the game, the squad reassembled at the Terminal Tavren to fete the Butcher and to decide whether to recall its hapless goaltender, now languishing in Buttface, Alaska. The Executive has reserved judgment.

4 Hops and Bolts, 5 Steamwhistle, 2 Guinness, 2 Granville somethings, 7 pounds of soggy wings, a large flying saucer of nachos and memories of youthful speed and dexterity were consumed.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Almost Unforgettable


Killer Strawberries    3    Turbo Beavers    9

Game Report

November 26, 2013

Record: 3-4-3

It would have been better if Butcher Brophey had not scraped the halls of Pete Palangio Arenas to find a replacement goalie nuts enough to suit up for the Strawbs, as the Zamboni completed its last swipe of the ice just prior to  the 11pm game time. At least, the team could have defaulted and gone home early rather than suffer a humiliating defeat. It might also have saved the Executive the time and effort required to defend the squad against incomprehensible accusations of dressing room impropriety.

After the game, everyone went home to bed. Nothing was consumed but the bitter taste of an old fashioned whoopin’.

Monday, November 26, 2012

Killer Strawberries at the Grey Cup

Freight Train and the Vice enjoy the Grey Cup on behalf of the Strawbs.

Friday, November 23, 2012

Mongeese (and Gazelles) Get Goosed


Killer Strawberries    4    Mongeese    1

Game Report

November 22, 2012

Record:    3-3-3

As the Zamboni finished its last swipe of the ice, the Strawbs were in a quandary...or perhaps they were facing a dilemma. In any event, with the absence of the Marquis DeSave who was washing jocks in Buttface, Alaska as part of his rehabilitation, the team was without a goalie. Up and down the fungus-filled halls of the venerable Pete Palangio Arenas they went, knocking on doors, begging for help. While the dressing room of the showering Gorgeous Gazelles, a visiting cheerleading and hockey squad from Malmo, Sweden, did not immediately relieve the Strawbs of their goaltending conundrum, it did result in a rather interesting post game get together at the Terminal Tavren. (more on this later).

Luckily, as the puck was about to drop, the Ice Martian located a goaltender willing to face the opposition despite the well-known weaknesses of the Strawbs defence (indiscriminate drinking, prolific swearing, unfair seducing, tobacco chewing etc.). The Strawbs scored early and the outcome was never in doubt. The Vice, fresh from three weddings and a funeral, had all the zip of a pubescent teenager in the throes of his first near-conquest. Unlike the results of that occasion, he scored on this one. Mayor Maynot claims he scored too but his recollection is doubtful, given his constant inhalation of the noxious fumes from the gobs of styling gel he thinks make him handsome.

Slickery, his skates sharpened for the first time in 2 years, was the epitome of something yet to be determined. MagBoy and Warrin’ Peace did something too, probably unrelated to hockey but still important nevertheless.

The defence was muskox-like, in the bad breath department. They had pep, vim and vigour and are to be congratulated on their efforts. Shiny Shone Brightly was the most creative playmaker on the ice. Butcher Brophey was back to his old ornery and delusional self, hooking a Mongoose so thoroughly under the armpit that the Mongoose’s forward motion caused the Butcher to cross the wake several times as he hitched a ride around the rink. It must also be mentioned that Sir Gawdawful Gumby showed everyone just why he was the third star of the game on March 10, 2004. With the score a very close 4-1 and the clock nearing expiry, our donkless hero sacrificed his body twice to preserve the near shutout for a goalie who, quite frankly, couldn’t have cared less. For his efforts, Gumby received a gigantic (his words) gash just above his left ankle and had to be transported to the Terminal Tavren under the close care of three nurses from the Malmo squad. Poor bugger.

Post game, the team joined the Gorgeous Gazelles at the Strawbs’ favourite watering hole. Bon mots and surreptitious knee squeezes were exchanged and the women drank the Strawbs under the table, as planned. Frivolity and merry-making ensued.

15 gallons of Snapps, 3 gallons of Aquavit, 2 bottles of Gameldansk  and some international bonhomie were consumed.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Strawbs Enjoy A Little TNA


Game Report

November 19, 2012

Killer Strawberries    3    TNA    1

Record: 2-3-2

With Freight Train Laronde, The Vice and The Marquis DeSave safely demoted to either the Nasty Cupcakes or the Buttface Bottomfeeders, the Strawbs cranked down their intensity to fondle a small victory against an enthusiastic squad of TNA advocates.

Not a single drop of sweat was wasted for the win. The press awarded only one Star of The Game, a third place nod to Shiny She Brightly whose fabulous pass to Slickery ensured 2 points for his underachieving team. For the rest, it was evening of sleepskating. Even the Butcher’s two trips to the Personality Box were half-hearted.

Most blamed the hockeytorial lethargy on the pre-game team meal served up by that underappreciated gastronome, Gawdawful Gumby at his summer palace on Mystery Bay. The victuals consisted of potato chips, Scotch and an unusual frozen puff pastry dessert prepared by the 4-Star chef himself. After the repast,tThe team limo was summoned to take the boys to the arena where they put on a masterful display of inertia.

After the game, the limo dropped off each player one by one. Nobody had the energy to make it to the Terminal Tavren for the normal post game debriefing. Yet, from all reports, everyone slept well.

Saturday, November 17, 2012

Limper Than Mr. Hefner In the Morning


Game Report

November 15, 2012

Killer Strawberries    4    Scoregasms    4

Record:  1-3-2

Exit polls from last night’s hockey tussle between the Killer Strawberries and the Scoregasms were absolutely clear in their message: the game was crap.

Of course, there were moments of brilliance. Unfortunately said moments occurred in the parking lot and at the Terminal Tavren following the game. On ice, the performances were reminiscent of Mr. Hugh Hefner’s escapades at the last Strawbs Executive Christmas Party at Aloha Baby Compound in Oahu, where, without his ED medication, he attempted what should not have been attempted in polite company. Suffice it to say that Hugh retired empty handed.

Slickery MacMillan was positively snakebitten. He had at least 8 excellent shots from the slot and many others from the periphery. Only one found the back of the net. “Don’t tell my Dad” was all he could muster by way of apology.

Warrin’ Peace, recently returned from a visit to Betty Ford, whom he claims is his auntie, finally turned it up in the last 10 minutes to score a beauty on a breakaway. This doubled his goal output for the season. The rest of the team managed to torque it up to mediocre on the performance scale, except for the Marquis De Save.

The Marquis is right now on the bus to Buttface, Alaska, where he will undergo a series of psychological and physical tests to see whether or not he has been invaded by lazy, brain-impaired aliens. It is hoped by the Executive that his minimum two week stint with the Bottomfeeders  will re-energize him. In his absence, applauded by more than one team veteran (#3 and #4, among them),  the team is negotiating with the league to have alumnus extraordinaire, Jesse The Leak, owner of two Championship rings, come back to turn the sinking ship around. The Leak, according to the resume he has posted on Facebook, is game ready and leaner than Ashley Olsen on diuretics and Bulemiaprophen. His leadership and narcissism is perhaps something the team could truly use at this point in a very disappointing season.

Following the game, most of the squad reassembled at their favourite watering and storytelling hole to celebrate two matters of significant significance. The first matter was Freight Train 444’s fifty fifth shade of grey which officially hit at midnight. The second matter, of much greater importance, was the four jugs Freight Train was required to buy the team in the event of a the 4-4 tie,  pursuant to a rash and irrevocable promise  he made in 2006. What fabulous way to celebrate someone else’s birthday.

4 jugs of the most expensive ale on tap, 35 chicken parts lathered in chemical baths and the pleasure of demoting a slacker were consumed.

Friday, November 09, 2012

Socks Appeal


Game Report

November 8, 2012

Killer Strawberries  2                Barn Muckers  5

Record: 1-3-1

It was almost universally agreed upon by the two Barn Muckers fans who attended last night’s tussle between their team and the Killer Strawberries that the Strawbs’ new hockey socks were a lovely addition to the overall team outfit. “The colours were spectacular” gushed Muffy Black, a lifelong Barn Muckers puck bunny. “I really liked the way the red, green and white details flowed into an amorphous mass of unparralled sartorial pulchritude, accenting the lovely lower limbs of even the least handsome of their players...#4  I believe.” Mittens Basel-Johnson, another Muckers follower was not quite so effusive in her praise but did venture to say that “the new socks were pretty-ish but I’m afraid they looked a little too busy to me...a bit like something a meretricious woman of elastic morals might wear for an evening out across the tracks. Can I get pantyhose in that design?”

Unfortunately, the new socks were the only highlight in an otherwise dull outing by the Strawbs. The squad is off to its worst start in 15 years. According to a scathing press release sent out while the team was showering after the match, “The Executive will closely examine last night’s game tapes to help determine what actions need to be taken to ensure that the Killer Strawberries regain some semblance of their previous gloriousness. There has been far too much off-ice tom-foolery which, obviously, has translated into on-ice ineptitude. We thought that the gift of new Stevie Wonder/Madonna-designed socks might revitalize the players, something which the Hawthorne experiments of the 1930s seemed to suggest. Either we or Hawthorne or both were wrong on this one. Perhaps a couple of demotions to the Nasty Cupcakes are in order instead. Suggestions on who might benefit from a change of scenery have been pouring in from fans and team mates alike. Once Aloha Baby Compound Playdates, Pamela Anderson and Sophia Vergara, have been consulted, a decision in this matter will be forthcoming. No one is safe here except the Ice Marshall.”

After the game, a coterie of undaunted Strawbs reconvened at the Terminal Tavren to discuss fashion and other topics of urgent concern. Butcher Brophey was toasted on his 63rd birthday and voted “Most Likely To Pull Up His New Socks If He Can Reach Them.”

2 Coors Light, 17 Guinness, 1 Granville Island Ale, 6 pounds of shaped poultry parts and a whole bunch of Movember fashion suggestions were consumed.

Tuesday, November 06, 2012

Wall-O-Berries


Killer Strawberries        1                    Rams    1
Game Report

November 5, 2012

Record 1-2-1

For the first 3 minutes of last night’s tussle between the veteran Killer Strawberries and its testomoronic opponents, the Rams, the Marquis DeSave had to deal with more rubber than a professional Las Vegas streetwalker on Bill Clinton Day. And like a good, high quality Trojan ribbed tickler, he stretched but did not break. His strong performance in nets allowed the Strawbs to effectuate its patented Wall-O-Berries defence until the team could regroup and finally apply pressure of its own at the other end of the rink.

The Rams scored first as the Butcher and his Corbelian neighbour from hell, the inimitable Gawdawful Gumby, roiled about in their own end chasing shadows and ejaculating the latest in swear words learned, no doubt, on their adventures through the sewers of the internet. Their insipid play continued for the whole of the match and almost cost the Strawbs a much needed point. Fortunately, the rest of the squad had come to play, unlike the bonesprockets from Corbeil who were content to wallow in the narcosis of mediocracy all night long. The Executive has ordered a Royal Commission to report on their futures.

Dr. Thug, showing increasing signs of decreasing mental acuity and fashion sense, showed up to the game with one hockey glove and one very nice black leather evening glove of the type worn by Prince Philip when he tours the Arctic. Neither glove was of an adult size. “Just cause the glove don’t fit, don’t mean I quit” he informed anyone who would listen. Needless to say, he did not score on the evening, attired as he was in ill fitting equipment.

The most impressive Strawb, non-sartorially speaking, was Slickery McMillan. He was a gad-about on the ice, skating harder and with more purpose than he has in years.  Although he did not score, he was awarded the game’s First Strawberry, a prize which has eluded him for much too long.

MagBoy, who showed up with three hockey gloves and a jug of something he called South of The Blueline, tied the game up with just over 10 minutes left to play. It was a gorgeous solo effort, reminiscent of the antics of another Strawb, not to be named, who was found in the throes of self-induced ecstasy at the back of Galaxy Theater #3 on August 10 of this year.

The rest of the Killer Strawberries were solid, playing excellent defense when necessary but not necessarily excellent defense. The forwards generated many scoring chances but were unable to convert the tie into a victory. Extra practice time has been ordered.

After the game, Gumby and the Butcher were verbally crucified, but in a fair way. Most of the Strawbs showered quickly and returned immediately to the bosoms of their heated homes. An intrepid foursome sped off to the Terminal Tavren to squeeze out fu from the last minutes of a long and rewarding day.

2 Guinness, 4 Hops and Gops and the satisfaction of a well earned tie were consumed.


Killer Strawberries 2012-2013

We were all present, so a photo was in order.

Meaningless Longitude

November 1st 2012 - Strawbs 4 other team 6 (me thinks)

Way way up near the geodetic true north saddened fans, some frozen solid, are seeking refuge in igloos and DC8 carcasses awaiting a match-up that will never happen. Fans say "Our compass is spinning and we just want to see this game."

It was reported early this week, by the Tidewater Times, that pending the signing of the Ice Marshal, the Nasty Cupcakes were scheduled to play their South Pole rivals, the Bonner Braves a team sponsored by The Rothera Research Station, Antarctica. The Braves are know for dominating hockey south of the equator but now they are directly aiming north, in Cupcake territory. 

Though try-outs went well IMW's agent placed heavy contractual conditions ultimately preventing the deal from going though.   Not all the details are known but a few conditions were leaked to the press.   First off, money was a big deal.  Cupcake management pays per goal, a clause that would bankrupt IM.  His agent reportedly demanded payment for fanned shots, ghost shots (where your stick never touches the puck), fake shots and asked that the clause be removed where a player is penalized for scoring on his own net.  Under this new amended contract the Ice Marshal stood to earn 4.2 million over 2.1 years.  

There was also uncertainty about the deal tweeted by the Ice Marshal himself....

"The deal is tricky but I'm worried about those south pole dancers calling me a Fairycake. I mean I'll lose it." 
IMW

The South Pole Bonner Braves, based out of Rothera, a commonwealth territory, tweeted this....

"What's a bloody Cupcake. "
BB

With the match-up cancelled, and IMW on his way back to southern-southern northern Ontario, there is no chance for those frozen fans to see their star shoot for millions.
Until the Cupcakes sign a player worthy of a north vs south Pole match-up fans and frozen puck bunnies 
can be found cold and sad at 90 degrees north latitude with a longitude that's meaningless.



In other news.....



Saturday, October 20, 2012

The Magic Never Leaves




Strawbs   9                   Predators   1

Game report

October 17, 2012

Bolstered by the return of Freight Train Laronde, who had missed the first game of the year due to a conflict with his monthly pedicure treatment, and by the return of the team’s spiritual leader, the handsome Ice Marshal Walpole, the Strawbs put the boots to a shocked team of pimply Predators.

The forward lines were firing on all cylinders except for MagBoy, who, although he played extremely well, managed to miss 5 sure goals. As his friend Gumby, a man noted for his casual understatement in all aspects of his life, noted “last night the MagPie couldn’t have found his own ass with both hands and a spotter.”

Warrin’ Peace was on fire. He flitted about the ice determined to erase, in one game, all the crappy play which had plagued him in the 2 previous seasons. And he succeeded. Smoother than an Ex-Lax enema and faster than his first premature ejaculation, Mr. Peace was outstanding. His only goal was a thing of beauty: toe drag, head fake, right dart and poof, the puck bulges the twine.

The normally glaring holes in the defence were temporarily plugged by the unusual good play of the blueline corps. Despite having only three sets of gloves for four people, the defenders switched equipment with all the practised ease of a Mormon polygamist. It is true that Sir Gawdawful Gumby did send four or more errant passes up the middle of his own zone for easy pick off by the Predators, yet this number was way less than predicted by the Executive just before game time.

The Marquis DeSave shone in net. On one memorable play, he managed to give the puck a concussion as it pinged off his dense bean into the mesh above his net. Reports filtering through at press time indicate that the puck is recovering nicely.

After the game, everyone went right home to bed. No Scotch, no Leaf Trail Pumpkin Ale or other sarsaparillas were consumed.  

Thursday, October 18, 2012

If you Schedule it he will come


Strawbs 3 Mongeese 4

The big story coming out of the Strawbs season opener isn’t the number of tetanus shots given out by the health unit the next morning due to players mishandling their rust coated skates.  I don’t think it’s a shocker that we probably broke the record for the most penalty minutes in our first match either. On the other hand, it’s slightly shocking that the Butcher was on hand and didn’t even take a penalty for his usual meat hooking and bologna slicing.  There is not much of a story to build out of Gumby’s too many men penalty. Yes it will be hard to forgive and should be mentioned in every following post, but in reality he was just fixated on leaving the box to torment the stickless authority instead of adding to the play.  Magboy received a penalty for what the medical community would call a lower limb stickoscopy, a procedure hailed by most surgeons.  Nope, there is no story there either.


The big story is the return of “Skateless” Warren Peace. Legend has it that his skates didn't fit one game, so he played the final period in his bare feet. He left Strawbs Hockey after a controversial season never to play again.  One evening the Executives heard a voice coming from their private corn fields. (BTW Corn is their code word) Sometimes the Exec’s evenings activities can get the better of them, and who knows what kind of S&amp^*t they hear from the privacy of their hot tubs.  Anyway, come game night “Skateless” appeared looking as young and agile as he once did when he used to play. It’s like he had never aged a day.  We expected that the mystical return of a ghost hockey player would have some effect on our game.  Unfortunately like so many other popular ghost movies, aside from seeing them, they can’t do much else.  



Game tonight 1045.  “Skateless” please show up in your physical form.





Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Killer Strawberries Golf, Aug. 28, 2012

 Osprey Links in Calander, looking back over the 2nd green





Great afternoon, and some great and less than great golf.

Monday, August 27, 2012

Light up the Links

The KS will light up the links Aug 28th. See you there.


Friday, July 27, 2012

The Killer Strawberries on the Sturgeon River canoe/kayak trip July 24-27.

Friday, May 11, 2012

Monday, April 16, 2012

Dubious Awards - Freight Train

What can you say about Freight Train Laronde? He’s the biggest guy on the team, like a few of us, he possess one of the crappiest shots on the team, he’s the only guy on the Strawbs who prays before each game that the game doesn’t end up in a 4-4 tie, he’s taken more vacation time than any other Strawb for which he’s missed more games due to that than any other Strawb, even more than the Butcher, aside from all that, he’s the consummate Killer Strawberry. He’ll play any position asked of him by the executive. When he’s called on to play defense the Marquis breathes a sigh of relief that it’s not another piece of Trout Lake driftwood in front of him, his play at forward keeps the opposition players in check, and he’s invariably one of the first forwards back checking, next to Mag Boy, Lill Wagner and the Mayor, where he’s a relentless back checker. Through all that, he never complains or grouses, hardly ever gets upset, takes few penalties, in fact earns few of the ones he gets, he never disses or says negative things about his team mates’ on ice performances even when they’re Gawdawful. After games he is always up for going for a post-game pop, wherever the executive decides to go. He’s a great team mate.

He’s the epitome of a Lady Bing winner –the NHL award for “the player adjudged to have exhibited the best type of sportsmanship and gentlemanly conduct combined with a high standard of playing ability.”

So, we are proud to present to Freight Train Laronde, the Killer Strawberries’ version of the Lady Bing award – for exhibiting the best type of sportsmanship and gentlemanly conduct combined with a relatively good standard of playing ability and for always being willing to go for a post-game beer, the Lady Olsen Twins Award.

Awards Night Turns Into Love-In

On April 13, 2012, the Killer Strawberries Hockey and Gentlemen's Club held its umpteenth Annual Dubious Achievement Awards Night at the The Compound For Minor Vice. Very few fights broke out even though the event was heavily fueled by gallons of Offside Pale Ale and Body Czech Lager produced by the team's brewmasters specifically for the occasion.

Moose chili, moose pepperoni, smoked trout, smoked arctic char, smoked pickerel and many other delicacies were consumed with abandon. Many photos were taken but quickly deleted.

The Awards themselves were epitomes of eloquence and good taste. Much drying of tears was conducted openly. Below, is the text of the Award made by The Marquis DeSave to his pal P. Gumbington Pettigrew III, aka Gawdawful Gumby or Gawd as he likes to call himself. Gawd's Award for his goaler will be published soon in this space.


Dubious Achievement Award: Sir Gawdawful Gumby

The SIGNIFICANTLY USELESS CREATOR of KERFUFFLES, more commonly known as the “SUCK” award, is awarded to a much deserving player (defensemen usually, but was recently opened up to offensive players due to lil_wagner and Mayor Maynot circumstances.)



The recipient of this award possesses many unique qualities to say the least, many of which result in crisp, fast, intelligent and dazzling plays…..for the opposing team.



Perhaps this recipient morphs an interest in curling with his lacklustre hockey playing ability, thus resulting in the object of interest being shot up the middle of the ice carelessly. Or maybe, as his belief in SHANKY six-iron leads us to think – that this recipient relies on a supreme being to help him on the ice. Unfortunately, that supreme being knows “FUCK ALL” about hockey.



The grip of shame suited him like a spandex headband on the convenor’s forehead. Tight.



This recipient is Gumby.



Gumby is known for putting the ‘ass’ in pass, for putting the ‘aw’ in giveaway, and for putting the ‘ill’ in Killer Strawberries. His motto “same as it ever was” implies that, contrary to the folk tales the other people on this team tell of once fast, hardnosed, precise hockey, he was always gawdawful.



His receding ability in hockey is compared by spectators to that of his hairline: slow, painful, and irreversible.



His orange socks are not as much of a coincidence as they are a warning to teammates that they are working with a pylon on defence. The game film wholeheartedly agrees.



The motivational quotes on his stick are shot into the abyss with every possession, clutching onto the glimmer of hope that they will find someone who will put their phrases to use.



Without any further ado, please help me congratulate our friend and 2012 SUCK recipient, Sir GawdAwful Gumby.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

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.

Friday, March 09, 2012

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.

Monday, February 27, 2012

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.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

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 4th 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.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

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.

Wednesday, February 08, 2012

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.

Sunday, February 05, 2012

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 37th 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.