Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Plucky Pink Provides Scare
Game Report
January 29, 2007
Strawbs 7 Rec’n Crew 6
A narrow victory but a victory nevertheless. Dr. Thug shot and scored. Gumby gumbied. The Torch poke checked. Warren Peace sped swiftly. Pyjama Man hit the net. Archilles played left wing. The Ice Marshall did not go offside. Freight Train 444 lumbered. Butcher Brophey performed unseen surgery. Magnesium Boy smelled nice. Jesse The Leak leaked. The Terminal Tavren was visited. The evening could not have been more exciting.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
The Real Scoreboard
I guess the "old man", Mag Boy, still has a thing or two to learn. Here is the COMPLETE 70+ goal scoring records in the NHL.
92 Wayne Gretzky 1982
87 Wayne Gretzky 1984
86 Brett Hull 1991
85 Mario Lemieux 1989
76 Phil Esposito 1971
76 Alex Mogilny 1993
76 Teemu Selanne 1993
73 Wayne Gretzky 1985
72 Brett Hull 1990
71 Jari Kurri 1985
71 Wayne Gretzky 1983
70 Brett Hull 1992
70 Bernie Nicholls 1989
70 Mario Lemieux 1988
92 Wayne Gretzky 1982
87 Wayne Gretzky 1984
86 Brett Hull 1991
85 Mario Lemieux 1989
76 Phil Esposito 1971
76 Alex Mogilny 1993
76 Teemu Selanne 1993
73 Wayne Gretzky 1985
72 Brett Hull 1990
71 Jari Kurri 1985
71 Wayne Gretzky 1983
70 Brett Hull 1992
70 Bernie Nicholls 1989
70 Mario Lemieux 1988
Monday, January 29, 2007
Plus 70 Club
92 Wayne Gretzky 1982
86 Brett Hull 1991
85 Mario Lemieux 1989
76 Phil Esposito 1971
76 Alex Mogilny 1993
76 Teemu Selanne 1993
70 Bernie Nicholls 1989
86 Brett Hull 1991
85 Mario Lemieux 1989
76 Phil Esposito 1971
76 Alex Mogilny 1993
76 Teemu Selanne 1993
70 Bernie Nicholls 1989
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Team Up Goes Down
Game Report January 25, 2007
Strawberries 7 Team Up 1
Powered by a full squad of buzzing dynamos and one hobbling Whoahorney, and further bolstered by the absence of Gumby Pettigrew, the Strawberries muscled their way to a convincing 7 to 1 victory over a bedazzled and bedraggled Team Up. Congratulations to the mystery Strawb who pitched in with a hat trick. Whoever it was, it was about time. And since this is a team game, you couldn’t have done it without the rest of us. In a way, we all scored those 3 goals, so put away your ego and suck up this lack of recognition for your efforts. An anonymous pat on the back is all you’re getting.
While management’s stated goal for this year is “to take home the Cup”, and while the Strawbs took another step in that direction last night, the team still remains troubled by a few nagging issues that must be addressed before they fester into intractabilities. Firstly, Management is troubled by the short leash afforded its most improved played, the incomparable Warren Peace. Just as his game is blossoming, there seems to be a disturbing trend developing around his post game obligations. After last night’s game, he was seen being led by the ear through the front doors of Doublerink Arenas by his most recent fiancée, that infamous heartbreaker, Samara Desert. Does Ms. Desert not realize that the true education of a hockey player occurs after the game in the company of team mates ever eager to expand his heretowith limited horizons? These outings are crucial to a young player’s development. They have consistently strengthened marriages and fianceeships worldwide and have been noted to improve the good looks and mental acuity of offspring by over 620%. Toilets get cleaned more frequently at home and table manners reach levels only imagined by Emily Post. It is no accident that every married Strawberry has been elected at least once to the Exemplary Husband Hall of Fame.
He was once the Shootout Poster Boy of the Canadore Hockey Leagues but lately he has been exhibiting the attention span of a gnat. Ever since he got his new Crackberry, Pyjama Man has been a vacant shell of his former self. He intentionally gets himself kicked out of the face off circle to check to see whether any new text messages have arrived since he last checked it 15 seconds before. At the Terminal Tavren, his secretive obsession with the little electronic hooker makes it look like he is playing with himself under the table. Pathetic. Get your head back into the game buddy and leave your Crackberry at work where it belongs.
Thirdly, is it creeping senescence or is Dr. Thug developing a close personal friendship with Vicodin? He repeatedly and impressively dips and ducks and doodles and flups in front of the opposition’s net, oblivious to his linemates shouts of “Shoot! Shoot! Shoot the friggin’ puck!”. Billy, you can’t score if you don’t shoot. Shake off the counterproductive fascination with the puck being caressed by your stick and start burying a few before mandatory retirement is staring you in the face.
Fourthly, Gumby’s commitment to his team is being questioned as far west as The Aloha Baby Compound. The fatter Olsen twin, the team’s strength coach and head nutritionist, has been heard to openly wonder, between nibbles of low cal water wafers, whether Gumby is more concerned about making a contract renewal statement than contributing to the team’s success. “He has missed 2 of the last 3 Strawb’s games, both of which the team has won. If he thinks his newest ploy will give him renegotiating leverage, he’s been spending too much time in my sister’s purse.”
On a positive note, it would appear that Butcher Brophey’s romance with the Strawb’s number 1 fan, the incomparable Miss Go Go Boots, is blossoming. The Butcher has forgiven her recent alleged Zamboni Room indiscretions with the team’s most handsome player and Miss Go Go Boots has been limiting her goo goo eyes to her man only, or so she claims. The Butcher and his main squeeze were seen leaving the Terminal Tavren last evening, hand in hand, with plans to go shopping for new matching hockey sweaters. If that ain’t love, what is? Are you taking notes, Samara Desert?
At the post game debriefing, the Strawbs engaged in various team building exercises and thoroughly exhausted the burning hockey topic of “White Tape vs. Black Tape As A Post Darwinian Argument For Unilateral Disarmament.” The Strawbs disassembled at 12:06am, glowing in the knowledge that, once again, they had contributed ever so slightly to the world being a better place to live.
2 Guinness, 2 Bud, 1 Stella, 2 single malts, 1 Bass, 1 Canadian, 2 Kilkenny and 2 yummy yet thoroughly debilitating hot rum toddies were consumed.
Strawberries 7 Team Up 1
Powered by a full squad of buzzing dynamos and one hobbling Whoahorney, and further bolstered by the absence of Gumby Pettigrew, the Strawberries muscled their way to a convincing 7 to 1 victory over a bedazzled and bedraggled Team Up. Congratulations to the mystery Strawb who pitched in with a hat trick. Whoever it was, it was about time. And since this is a team game, you couldn’t have done it without the rest of us. In a way, we all scored those 3 goals, so put away your ego and suck up this lack of recognition for your efforts. An anonymous pat on the back is all you’re getting.
While management’s stated goal for this year is “to take home the Cup”, and while the Strawbs took another step in that direction last night, the team still remains troubled by a few nagging issues that must be addressed before they fester into intractabilities. Firstly, Management is troubled by the short leash afforded its most improved played, the incomparable Warren Peace. Just as his game is blossoming, there seems to be a disturbing trend developing around his post game obligations. After last night’s game, he was seen being led by the ear through the front doors of Doublerink Arenas by his most recent fiancée, that infamous heartbreaker, Samara Desert. Does Ms. Desert not realize that the true education of a hockey player occurs after the game in the company of team mates ever eager to expand his heretowith limited horizons? These outings are crucial to a young player’s development. They have consistently strengthened marriages and fianceeships worldwide and have been noted to improve the good looks and mental acuity of offspring by over 620%. Toilets get cleaned more frequently at home and table manners reach levels only imagined by Emily Post. It is no accident that every married Strawberry has been elected at least once to the Exemplary Husband Hall of Fame.
He was once the Shootout Poster Boy of the Canadore Hockey Leagues but lately he has been exhibiting the attention span of a gnat. Ever since he got his new Crackberry, Pyjama Man has been a vacant shell of his former self. He intentionally gets himself kicked out of the face off circle to check to see whether any new text messages have arrived since he last checked it 15 seconds before. At the Terminal Tavren, his secretive obsession with the little electronic hooker makes it look like he is playing with himself under the table. Pathetic. Get your head back into the game buddy and leave your Crackberry at work where it belongs.
Thirdly, is it creeping senescence or is Dr. Thug developing a close personal friendship with Vicodin? He repeatedly and impressively dips and ducks and doodles and flups in front of the opposition’s net, oblivious to his linemates shouts of “Shoot! Shoot! Shoot the friggin’ puck!”. Billy, you can’t score if you don’t shoot. Shake off the counterproductive fascination with the puck being caressed by your stick and start burying a few before mandatory retirement is staring you in the face.
Fourthly, Gumby’s commitment to his team is being questioned as far west as The Aloha Baby Compound. The fatter Olsen twin, the team’s strength coach and head nutritionist, has been heard to openly wonder, between nibbles of low cal water wafers, whether Gumby is more concerned about making a contract renewal statement than contributing to the team’s success. “He has missed 2 of the last 3 Strawb’s games, both of which the team has won. If he thinks his newest ploy will give him renegotiating leverage, he’s been spending too much time in my sister’s purse.”
On a positive note, it would appear that Butcher Brophey’s romance with the Strawb’s number 1 fan, the incomparable Miss Go Go Boots, is blossoming. The Butcher has forgiven her recent alleged Zamboni Room indiscretions with the team’s most handsome player and Miss Go Go Boots has been limiting her goo goo eyes to her man only, or so she claims. The Butcher and his main squeeze were seen leaving the Terminal Tavren last evening, hand in hand, with plans to go shopping for new matching hockey sweaters. If that ain’t love, what is? Are you taking notes, Samara Desert?
At the post game debriefing, the Strawbs engaged in various team building exercises and thoroughly exhausted the burning hockey topic of “White Tape vs. Black Tape As A Post Darwinian Argument For Unilateral Disarmament.” The Strawbs disassembled at 12:06am, glowing in the knowledge that, once again, they had contributed ever so slightly to the world being a better place to live.
2 Guinness, 2 Bud, 1 Stella, 2 single malts, 1 Bass, 1 Canadian, 2 Kilkenny and 2 yummy yet thoroughly debilitating hot rum toddies were consumed.
FALLEN STRAWBS
Butcher Brophey demonstrates, yet again, another in his voluminous repertoire of "ya gotta be kidding, Ref" moves.FALLEN STRAWBS
Freight Train Laronde loses the battle with, according to him, an obvious case of a movable object.FALLEN STRAWBS
The Ice Marshall demonstrates "the little Dutch boy with his finger in the dike" as he attempts to fill himself completely up.Friday, January 19, 2007
Time Takes A Holiday
Game Report
January 18, 2007
Strawbs 3 Aviation 3
It didn’t start out as a pretty game. With a few of the Strawbs still nursing self-inflicted injuries from the excesses of the night before, a short bench of 8 stalwarts and the nagging worry of all Strawbs present whether the fleet of foot Magnesium Boy would arrive safely from his psychotherapy session in St. Catharines, an inauspicious start was almost guaranteed. After the first 5 minutes, our intrepid squad was looking at the business end of a 2-0 score. But something magical happened. Magnesium Boy suddenly appeared at the rink door, dressed for hockey success. His arrival buoyed the Strawbs’ flagging spirits and, faster than you can say “turn this listing ship around”, the score became 3-2 in our favour. On this evening, it must be said that Wanderin’ Warren Peace played his finest game of the season, dazzling his team mates, the opposition and the uncounted fans with his speed, deft touch and general hockey wizardry. At game’s end, Wanderin’ attributed his performance to ESB, a non-medical term for the postponement of priapetic pleasure.
Jesse The Leak, whose first 5 minutes looked like his head had recently been caught under the wheels of careening 18 wheeler, suudenly became the tender his is paid to be. It is probable that the change in his performance had been due to the encouraging words of the ever diplomatic Gumby who advised The Leak that he was playing like crap and that, if he didn’t want to find certain sensitive portions of his anatomy hanging from the rafters, he had better sharpen up and have his game improve beyond the pre-tyke, d….d embarrassing, cro-magnon, disturbingly “intellectualless” level he had been exhibiting to that point. The Leak read between the lines of Gumby’s subtle exhortation and was solid to game’s end.
Pyjama Man fired a beautiful marker, but management is still very concerned about his frequent misses on breakaways. He has been temporarily reassigned to the Ray Charles Net Recognition Remediation School, an establishment he was sent to last October. He should be back in time for next Thursday’s game, unless the School’s management feels that he has not yet perfected his lessons. He has also been ordered to review Jon John Jean’s excellent video “How To Score With A Really Crappy Shot”.
In a surprise occurrence, the Vice Ice tallied for the second game in a row to raise his lifetime scoring total to 6, using his patented gravity and time defying Flutterball Deluxe. While the VIM is reluctant to reveal the full set of secrets surrounding his shot, he did let out that the goal was actually the result of a surreptitious shot he took in warmup on the Monday previous and that the puck reached the net at the appropriate time last night. We knew he dabbled in magic, but this scares all of us.
The evening did end on 2 rather sad notes. Management learned that earlier in the week Miss White Go-Go Boots, the team’s most fickle fan, had ordered the Butcher to “wash and scrub your flea-infested, bacteria sewer pipe of an equipment collection or you won’t be allowed to keep it anywhere in my house.” Other things were also said but cannot be reported.
Now, all of us know(s) that the said equipment, although vintage and lovely to look at, does commonly carry some rather nasty odours and still to be discovered carcinogens. It has not been unusual to see the Butcher remove from his cup holder or inner shin pad a former adversary’s stray spleen, superfluous foreskin, spare eyelid or useless prostate gland. And while the Butcher does occasionally shake out his equipment to lighten the load of items which inevitably remain glued or hooked to straps or pocket edges, those pieces which are not shaken out tend to putrefact in situ. The smell is something rank enough to seriously injure the pulmonary systems of both terrestrial and aquatic wildlife, here and on other planets. As such, we can understand where Miss White Go-Go Boots is coming from. Yet, as all gentle folk know, it’s not always what you say but how you say it that can turn honest criticism into a self-esteem sucking rant. Miss White Go-Go Boots certainly crossed the line on this one, prompting a sobbing and clearly shattered Butcher to blubber, in the presence of too many team mates. “It was like time took a holiday and I was 4 years old again. I love her dearly but I have been wounded to the core.” As if this humiliating tongue lashing were not enough, Miss White Go-Go Boots was spotted after last night’s game canoodling in the Zamboni Room with the Strawb’s most handsome player. We all know who he is and pray that too-timing vixen does not get hurt when inevitably she gets dumped… although it would serve her right for dissin’ her man.
The last sad note is being reported with a very heavy heart. There was no post game debriefing at the Terminal Tavren. In the long, illustrious history of the proud Strawb’s, the only time this kind od debacle happened was in 1986, when Banana Splits, the team’s backup’s backup, lost his wife in a tragic accident. Apparently, Splits got home early (he did not get to dress for the game) only to find his wife in bed with the paperboy. The paperboy panicked and somehow choked Mrs. Splits. Splits called the rink to seek guidance from his team and everyone, to a man, showed up Splits’ place to help him grieve and console the poor paperboy. Perhaps there is a lesson in this for Miss White Go-Go Boots.
0 was consumed post-game, a tragedy of Brobdignagian proportions.
January 18, 2007
Strawbs 3 Aviation 3
It didn’t start out as a pretty game. With a few of the Strawbs still nursing self-inflicted injuries from the excesses of the night before, a short bench of 8 stalwarts and the nagging worry of all Strawbs present whether the fleet of foot Magnesium Boy would arrive safely from his psychotherapy session in St. Catharines, an inauspicious start was almost guaranteed. After the first 5 minutes, our intrepid squad was looking at the business end of a 2-0 score. But something magical happened. Magnesium Boy suddenly appeared at the rink door, dressed for hockey success. His arrival buoyed the Strawbs’ flagging spirits and, faster than you can say “turn this listing ship around”, the score became 3-2 in our favour. On this evening, it must be said that Wanderin’ Warren Peace played his finest game of the season, dazzling his team mates, the opposition and the uncounted fans with his speed, deft touch and general hockey wizardry. At game’s end, Wanderin’ attributed his performance to ESB, a non-medical term for the postponement of priapetic pleasure.
Jesse The Leak, whose first 5 minutes looked like his head had recently been caught under the wheels of careening 18 wheeler, suudenly became the tender his is paid to be. It is probable that the change in his performance had been due to the encouraging words of the ever diplomatic Gumby who advised The Leak that he was playing like crap and that, if he didn’t want to find certain sensitive portions of his anatomy hanging from the rafters, he had better sharpen up and have his game improve beyond the pre-tyke, d….d embarrassing, cro-magnon, disturbingly “intellectualless” level he had been exhibiting to that point. The Leak read between the lines of Gumby’s subtle exhortation and was solid to game’s end.
Pyjama Man fired a beautiful marker, but management is still very concerned about his frequent misses on breakaways. He has been temporarily reassigned to the Ray Charles Net Recognition Remediation School, an establishment he was sent to last October. He should be back in time for next Thursday’s game, unless the School’s management feels that he has not yet perfected his lessons. He has also been ordered to review Jon John Jean’s excellent video “How To Score With A Really Crappy Shot”.
In a surprise occurrence, the Vice Ice tallied for the second game in a row to raise his lifetime scoring total to 6, using his patented gravity and time defying Flutterball Deluxe. While the VIM is reluctant to reveal the full set of secrets surrounding his shot, he did let out that the goal was actually the result of a surreptitious shot he took in warmup on the Monday previous and that the puck reached the net at the appropriate time last night. We knew he dabbled in magic, but this scares all of us.
The evening did end on 2 rather sad notes. Management learned that earlier in the week Miss White Go-Go Boots, the team’s most fickle fan, had ordered the Butcher to “wash and scrub your flea-infested, bacteria sewer pipe of an equipment collection or you won’t be allowed to keep it anywhere in my house.” Other things were also said but cannot be reported.
Now, all of us know(s) that the said equipment, although vintage and lovely to look at, does commonly carry some rather nasty odours and still to be discovered carcinogens. It has not been unusual to see the Butcher remove from his cup holder or inner shin pad a former adversary’s stray spleen, superfluous foreskin, spare eyelid or useless prostate gland. And while the Butcher does occasionally shake out his equipment to lighten the load of items which inevitably remain glued or hooked to straps or pocket edges, those pieces which are not shaken out tend to putrefact in situ. The smell is something rank enough to seriously injure the pulmonary systems of both terrestrial and aquatic wildlife, here and on other planets. As such, we can understand where Miss White Go-Go Boots is coming from. Yet, as all gentle folk know, it’s not always what you say but how you say it that can turn honest criticism into a self-esteem sucking rant. Miss White Go-Go Boots certainly crossed the line on this one, prompting a sobbing and clearly shattered Butcher to blubber, in the presence of too many team mates. “It was like time took a holiday and I was 4 years old again. I love her dearly but I have been wounded to the core.” As if this humiliating tongue lashing were not enough, Miss White Go-Go Boots was spotted after last night’s game canoodling in the Zamboni Room with the Strawb’s most handsome player. We all know who he is and pray that too-timing vixen does not get hurt when inevitably she gets dumped… although it would serve her right for dissin’ her man.
The last sad note is being reported with a very heavy heart. There was no post game debriefing at the Terminal Tavren. In the long, illustrious history of the proud Strawb’s, the only time this kind od debacle happened was in 1986, when Banana Splits, the team’s backup’s backup, lost his wife in a tragic accident. Apparently, Splits got home early (he did not get to dress for the game) only to find his wife in bed with the paperboy. The paperboy panicked and somehow choked Mrs. Splits. Splits called the rink to seek guidance from his team and everyone, to a man, showed up Splits’ place to help him grieve and console the poor paperboy. Perhaps there is a lesson in this for Miss White Go-Go Boots.
0 was consumed post-game, a tragedy of Brobdignagian proportions.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Cows on Banjoes
Game Report
January 15, 2007
Blades of Steel 5 Strawberries 2
It was a well played game….full of superb passing, selfless backchecking and deft goal scoring….by the other team. According to Gawdawful Gumby, “We were terrible. I was terrible. I haven’t played this badly since yesterday. I think we need to dig down deep and refind the game which got us here. Anyone seen my jock?”
A better question would have been “Has anyone seen Butcher Brophey?” The Butcher was inexplicably absent from game. Has he got something going on with the team’s #1 fan, Miss White Go Go Boots? Stay tuned to this space for some startling revelations over the next couple of weeks.
Freight Train Laronde was even more blunt than his defencemate Gumby. “The Strawbs played as ineptly as cows on banjoes, bees on guitars, and jam on unbuttered toast.” The rest of the squad agreed with the first two metaphors but are still scratching their heads over the reference to jam. It was duly noted by Dr. Thug that Freight Train is still recovering for his post Christmas gonad replacement and that he is not entirely responsible for his faulty analogies.
The Vice Ice lamented having personally adopted the Consolidated Rushing And Playmaking system he had seen on Hockey Day in Canada last Saturday. “When Don Cherry talked about the system, it sounded good. I t didn’t realize it was a joke...on me. The CRAP system really is crap and I will return to what I used to do before…hook, trip, impede, goad and pray.”
Wanderin Warren Peace, a Tolstoy devotee and former Mr. Wikwemikong South, too, was philosophical about the evening’s setback. “When things didn’t go right for Anna Karenina, what did she do? She didn’t quit. Oh ya, she did. She threw herself under a train. But her funeral was nice. We can all learn from that.”
On the bright side, the hockey humiliation occurred while the Strawbs were wearing their home green uniforms. This means of course that they remain undefeated in their fetching new white and red away sweaters. As the Ice Marshall so sagely noted, “There is always a silver lining and it is always darkest just before dawn when the cows on banjoes come home to roost at Aloha Baby Compound.” With these encouraging words, the team engaged in warm team hug (metaphorically of course) and those who were not wimps assembled later at the Terminal Tavren for a good natured round of bonhomie and jovial jousting. The Universe was again at one with itself and peace reigned supreme.
5 Kilkenny, 1 Guinness, 2 unmanly light beer and something called Pepsi were consumed. An unsound post game trend seems to be developing and needs to be nipped in the buds.
January 15, 2007
Blades of Steel 5 Strawberries 2
It was a well played game….full of superb passing, selfless backchecking and deft goal scoring….by the other team. According to Gawdawful Gumby, “We were terrible. I was terrible. I haven’t played this badly since yesterday. I think we need to dig down deep and refind the game which got us here. Anyone seen my jock?”
A better question would have been “Has anyone seen Butcher Brophey?” The Butcher was inexplicably absent from game. Has he got something going on with the team’s #1 fan, Miss White Go Go Boots? Stay tuned to this space for some startling revelations over the next couple of weeks.
Freight Train Laronde was even more blunt than his defencemate Gumby. “The Strawbs played as ineptly as cows on banjoes, bees on guitars, and jam on unbuttered toast.” The rest of the squad agreed with the first two metaphors but are still scratching their heads over the reference to jam. It was duly noted by Dr. Thug that Freight Train is still recovering for his post Christmas gonad replacement and that he is not entirely responsible for his faulty analogies.
The Vice Ice lamented having personally adopted the Consolidated Rushing And Playmaking system he had seen on Hockey Day in Canada last Saturday. “When Don Cherry talked about the system, it sounded good. I t didn’t realize it was a joke...on me. The CRAP system really is crap and I will return to what I used to do before…hook, trip, impede, goad and pray.”
Wanderin Warren Peace, a Tolstoy devotee and former Mr. Wikwemikong South, too, was philosophical about the evening’s setback. “When things didn’t go right for Anna Karenina, what did she do? She didn’t quit. Oh ya, she did. She threw herself under a train. But her funeral was nice. We can all learn from that.”
On the bright side, the hockey humiliation occurred while the Strawbs were wearing their home green uniforms. This means of course that they remain undefeated in their fetching new white and red away sweaters. As the Ice Marshall so sagely noted, “There is always a silver lining and it is always darkest just before dawn when the cows on banjoes come home to roost at Aloha Baby Compound.” With these encouraging words, the team engaged in warm team hug (metaphorically of course) and those who were not wimps assembled later at the Terminal Tavren for a good natured round of bonhomie and jovial jousting. The Universe was again at one with itself and peace reigned supreme.
5 Kilkenny, 1 Guinness, 2 unmanly light beer and something called Pepsi were consumed. An unsound post game trend seems to be developing and needs to be nipped in the buds.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Strawbs Pound Pink
Game Report
Strawbs 6, Rec'n Crew 2
January 11, 2007
The Strawbs started off the 2007 campaign with a resounding beating of a team disguised as flamingos. Their pink jerseys, an excellent colour choice for silky lingerie and stomach relief products, clashed badly with the Strawbs’ new red on white away sweaters, designed by our own Vice Ice over the Christmas holidays. Apparently the new colour scheme was inspired by too long a look in the mirror the morning after one of his Gumby-assisted forays into the well-stocked liquor cabinet at 105 Viceroy Road. Whatever the inspiration, the Strawberries looked fetching.
Archilles Perron, formerly known as Achilles Perron, returned triumphant after recuperating from some frivilous, self-induced ailment, scoring one beauty and assisting on 2 others. His linemates, Magnesium Boy and the Ice Marshall, were duly impressed with the rejuvenated Archilles and are hopeful that all their hard work in making Archilles look good will pay off in future.
The lesser line, centered by Pyjama Man who was flanked by Dr. Thug and Wanderin’ Warren, contributed nicely to the victory and may some day reach the level of expertise and grace demonstrated by line #1. All it would take is for Pyjama Man to hit the net more than 11% of the time, for Dr. Thug to crush more girls face-first into the end boards and for Wanderin’ Warren to spend less time “quality time”with his fiancee just prior to game time. Lovey dovey is fine and has its place, but the Strawbs need full manly strength at every game on every shift.
Speaking of full manly strength, the Vice Ice had all of his, as he scored his second goal since October. He unleashed a blistering drive (by his standards, of course) which somehow snuck under the hapless tender’s pads and actually “slammed” into the metal at the back of the net. “Slammed” may be a slight overstatement, but some Strawbs on the bench at the time of the goal did report a faint metallic sound emanating from the far end of the rink contemporaneously with the goal. The sound could also have been attributable to the tinkling of Freight Train's new brass gonads, a Christmas present from his wife who claims they help attract pickerel . Speaking of Freight train…he recovered nicely from the blueline undressing he took in the first minute of the game to make a solid contribution on defence. It would have been nice to say the same about Butcher Brophey who was once again late for the match. Apparently, he had to retreat to his car 2 minutes before game time to put in his contacts and freshen up his mascara. As if he couldn’t have done this at home.
Jesse The Leak was excellent between the pipes and seems to have benefited enormously from his short stint with the Nasty Cupcakes over the holidays. He will be allowed to start the next game on Monday at 9pm against the Blades of Steel.
Buoyed by the victory, the Strawberries retreated to the Terminal Tavren for some post game braggin’. The event was well attended except for Jesse The Leak, who still believes that alcohol is evil, Archilles, who claimed he had to get to bed early, and for Freight Train Laronde, who told the club he is frightened of the new metal detectors recently installed at the Bull & Quench.
6 Guinness, 4 Bud, 2 Kilkenny, 1 Coke and ½ a friggin Pepsi were consumed. This cola phenomenon is not something of which we are proud.
Game Report
Strawbs 6, Rec'n Crew 2
January 11, 2007
The Strawbs started off the 2007 campaign with a resounding beating of a team disguised as flamingos. Their pink jerseys, an excellent colour choice for silky lingerie and stomach relief products, clashed badly with the Strawbs’ new red on white away sweaters, designed by our own Vice Ice over the Christmas holidays. Apparently the new colour scheme was inspired by too long a look in the mirror the morning after one of his Gumby-assisted forays into the well-stocked liquor cabinet at 105 Viceroy Road. Whatever the inspiration, the Strawberries looked fetching.
Archilles Perron, formerly known as Achilles Perron, returned triumphant after recuperating from some frivilous, self-induced ailment, scoring one beauty and assisting on 2 others. His linemates, Magnesium Boy and the Ice Marshall, were duly impressed with the rejuvenated Archilles and are hopeful that all their hard work in making Archilles look good will pay off in future.
The lesser line, centered by Pyjama Man who was flanked by Dr. Thug and Wanderin’ Warren, contributed nicely to the victory and may some day reach the level of expertise and grace demonstrated by line #1. All it would take is for Pyjama Man to hit the net more than 11% of the time, for Dr. Thug to crush more girls face-first into the end boards and for Wanderin’ Warren to spend less time “quality time”with his fiancee just prior to game time. Lovey dovey is fine and has its place, but the Strawbs need full manly strength at every game on every shift.
Speaking of full manly strength, the Vice Ice had all of his, as he scored his second goal since October. He unleashed a blistering drive (by his standards, of course) which somehow snuck under the hapless tender’s pads and actually “slammed” into the metal at the back of the net. “Slammed” may be a slight overstatement, but some Strawbs on the bench at the time of the goal did report a faint metallic sound emanating from the far end of the rink contemporaneously with the goal. The sound could also have been attributable to the tinkling of Freight Train's new brass gonads, a Christmas present from his wife who claims they help attract pickerel . Speaking of Freight train…he recovered nicely from the blueline undressing he took in the first minute of the game to make a solid contribution on defence. It would have been nice to say the same about Butcher Brophey who was once again late for the match. Apparently, he had to retreat to his car 2 minutes before game time to put in his contacts and freshen up his mascara. As if he couldn’t have done this at home.
Jesse The Leak was excellent between the pipes and seems to have benefited enormously from his short stint with the Nasty Cupcakes over the holidays. He will be allowed to start the next game on Monday at 9pm against the Blades of Steel.
Buoyed by the victory, the Strawberries retreated to the Terminal Tavren for some post game braggin’. The event was well attended except for Jesse The Leak, who still believes that alcohol is evil, Archilles, who claimed he had to get to bed early, and for Freight Train Laronde, who told the club he is frightened of the new metal detectors recently installed at the Bull & Quench.
6 Guinness, 4 Bud, 2 Kilkenny, 1 Coke and ½ a friggin Pepsi were consumed. This cola phenomenon is not something of which we are proud.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Aloha Baby Compound
The Ice Marshal pauses for a breath behind the Aloha Baby Compound bus while it refuels for another tour around the "camp."
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