Barn Muckers 5 - Killer Strawberries 3 
(the briefest of reports)

A short handed Strawbs team, in other words, those players who felt like showing up for the game, mucked it up quite well with the Muckers.  With surprising few squabbles about whose turn it was to sit on the bench, the team sucked it up and made the opposing team a tad nervous.  Down by a goal early twice in the game, the Strawbs fought back to end the 1st half tied 2-2.  With 14 minutes left in the game, the Gentlemen's Club was ahead 3-2.  The final 10 minutes of play were tight and competitive with both teams pressing.  The Muckers were forced to work for their win.
The usual Killer Strawberries post-game ensued ... blah blah blah.

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

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.

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.

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.

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’.

Killer Strawberries at the Grey Cup

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

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.

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.

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.

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 63^rd 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.

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.....

Message from the MAG camp

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.  

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.

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.

Light up the Links

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

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