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.