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Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Pickled Possum-Oct.23,2006

Game Report

Beer Barons 7, Strawbs -4

If there is anything to the idea of too much perfection, then it must be admitted that the Strawberries were perfectly guilty of epitomizing the concept in last night’s game against the swift skating Beer Barons. The hapless Strawbs, in their quest to assure the avoidance of a berth in the higher of the Canadore intramural hockey leagues, certainly went well beyond what was required to attain their goal. They were whitewashed, slammed, creamed, crushed, beaten and roadkilled into submission in a game that, in retrospect, ought not have been played. The score should have been mailed in and summarily forgotten.

While team management has always been loathe to look for expedient excuses, it did, in this instance of hyper-perfection, succumb to the irresistible temptation to do so, at a post game press conference held at the Aloha Baby Compound in Oahu. No punches were pulled, no rock unturned, no carpet unlifted, no dust bunnies unfound. According to management, who viewed the game via satellite feed in the ElectroGlide Room, the forgettable performance can directly attributable to the following:

1. Achilles Perron’s current wife had unnecessarily yelled at him before the game for forgetting to place the cutlery in an upright position in the dishwasher. Achilles was so upset, he refused to take his usual pre-game medication, a fifth of Cutty Sark.

2. Dr. Thug, fresh from a session with the team’s sport psychiatrist, Trish D’lish, refused to mug either of the two girls on the Beer Barons squad, thus reducing his on ice aggressiveness to that of a disgruntled palace eunuch.

3. Rob “The Torch” Greenfield had, earlier in the afternoon, pulled a muscle in his back while twisting around to pull out a sarsasparilla from the cooler located just behind the driver’s seat of his yacht, The Tail Of Whoa.

4. Pyjama Man had to show up to the game dressed in a pair of his wife’s discarded pantyhose, his wife having had the unmitigated audacity to wash his usual pre-game garb and to then attempt to line-dry said garb in a raging snowstorm, a mere one hour before the game. Wethinks all is not well in Pyjamaland.

5. Magnesium Boy, feeling slightly ill before the match, botched his self-administered appendectomy because he had forgotten to test the potency of his homemade anaesthetic prior to the operation. Needless to say, his on ice performance was adversely affected by his lack of foresight. Not that much is ever expected of him in any event.

6. Jesse "The Leak" developed a temporary latex/rubber allergy, causing him to slam his eyes shut every time a piece of latex/rubber came within the purview of his sensory detection system. Because this occurred so often at last night's game, his eyes were welded shut by the end of the first period. Oddly, enough, his second period was the best we've seen him play all year. Butcher Brophey gallantly offered to slice open his eyelids with his stick, but "The leak" wisely declined the generous offer.

7. Butcher Brophey

On the plus side, Gumby did not play and new addition, Golden Fleece Saint-Pierre, proved to be one of the two bright lights in an otherwise dim arena. Everyone in attendance marvelled at how effortlessly he slipped the surly bonds of Earth and danced the skies on laughter’s silvered wings. Sunward he climbed to join the tumbling mirth, of sunsplit clouds. High flight indeed.

And lastly...the Ice Marshall played so well, one reporter was overheard to say he thought the flawless wingman had, on this night of the Pickled Possum, “put out his hand and touched the face of God”.

0 jugs and some crow were consumed.

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