A Dubious Victory

Game Report

Strawberries 11 Titans 5

January 28, 2008


Last evening, the Strawberries managed to eke out an 11-5 win over an understaffed Titan squad whose collective hockey abilities would not normally fit into the spaces between the electrons of a denatured Plutonium atom. This is not a slight upon the Titans who usually put up a good fight. We admire their enthusiasm and effort. We adore their girlfriends. Hell, we’d even have shared beer with them if they had brought some to our dressing room. No, the first statement above is a wake up call to the Strawberries who performed with a complacency not seen since George Bush famously said: “Iraq, I don’t lose any sleep over that backwater. Hey Condi, pass the pretzels.”

The marginally remarkable performances on offence will be mentioned only briefly. Archilles Perron, fresh from a trip to the discounted stick section at Canadian Tire, potted 4 goals, most of which were intentional. The Vice contributed 3 tallies, none of which had enough mustard or ambition to leave the ice surface. But as he always says” a goal is a goal is a lovely goal”. Shiny Sean Brightly, despite smelling of freshly soiled diapers and projectile baby vomit, found the back of the net on 2 occasions, unworried that nobody was covering for him defensively.

So much for the plus side. From a defensive point of view, it was the ugly side of repulsive. Jesse The Leak was as shaky as a neophyte drug smuggler running the gauntlet through Canada Customs. Butcher Brophey fell back into his wicked ways, taking an early penalty for, SURPRISE!, hooking, because “ he was saving his energy for later”. Why he would want to save any of himself only close relatives could possibly know. Sir Gumby, the new poster boy for nonchalance, watched blithely as the Titans took shot after feeble shot at his donkless goaltender. “I would have tried a little harder but why? We were winning. Besides, my defence work is never recognized.” Oh, his work is recognized alright, but not for the reasons he’d like to attribute to his game.

The rest of the Strawbs were unremarkable. It was so bad that Samara Desert, the game’s only fan, was busily calling her friends as early as 3 minutes into the match to see if they had any paint that she could watch dry. In the dressing room following the engagement, the mood was somber. The team knew that it had played disgracefully. Post game, no one bothered to set a rendezvous for the Terminal Tavren. Everyone went home grumpy but fortified by the knowledge that this Thursday excellence on ice will once again prevail. We are hopeful it will be Strawberries’ excellence.

0 beer ordered, 1 beer consumed