Rebound

Strawberries 5 Free Agents 3

Game Report

October 27, 2008

As the gentle reader will recall, the previous Strawberries' game against a smooth skating squadron of Ramrods was callously unattended by His Gawdawfulness, Sir Gumby, and by Butcher Brophey, Dr. Thud and Shiny Sean. The Executive was less than pleased. An unpleased Executive is an unhappy Executive.

Fortunately, the Killer Strawberries are superbly managed. Management has acquired over the years a veritable gallimaufry of cruel yet effective carrots and sticks, each of which can be tailored to the problem at hand. After last week’s virulent case of I-Just-Won’t-Show-Up-Tonightis, something had to be done. After careful consideration, the Executive chose to have tongue lashings administered to its latest miscreants. Strawbs respond well to tongue lashings. Always have. Makes em want to smoke afterwards. So successful was the punishment, that, for last night’s dustup, there was perfect attendance.

The laggards were certainly present last night but, unfortunately, less than effective. Seems it is difficult to skate with one’s tail shriveled between one’s legs. The important thing, however, was that they learned their lessons. As for the rest of the team, most rebounded relentlessy and magnificently. Freight Train Laronde, fresh from cracking the upper side of the 255 pound barrier, skated about like a rutting Tasmanian Devil, complete with nostril flaring, hoof pounding and in your face forechecking: any more testosterone and his gonads would have exploded. He may even have scored a goal.

Archilles Perron was his same old self, yet moreso. He glided gracefully up and down the right wing, a veritable Toller Cranston. Unfortunately, his shooting was about as good as the former Canadian champion’s. What Archilles needs is a little more INTENSITY.

Warrin’ Peace, despite the troubles he is having at home as a result of his new no smoking/under-10-beer-a-day-regime, played very well, even with Archilles as one of his wingers.

Pyjama Man was a force to be reckoned with, until the start of the first period, when, apprently, he just gave up. But in his favour, it must be said that his hair remained perfect through the whole match, unsullied by unwelcome sweat. He may also have scored a goal or two.

MagBoy was a perfect clone of his hockey hero, the aforementioned Freight Train. He too raced about aimfully, causing havoc here and mayhem there. Pucks were turned over, errant passes forced and cringing made to happen in the corners. He may also have scored a goal but that, of course, is highly unlikely.

The Ice Marshal played as expected: competently and with elan. Various reports have him scoring the winning goal but, as usual, he was too humble to take the credit.

The Vice continued his stalwart toil on defence, trying so hard at times to make up for a disastrous 2007-08 campaign, that he twice gave himself whiplash as he spun around to hook the speedy opponent who had just undressed him. You have to admire his pluck.

Jesse The Leak, only last month promoted to Jesse The Drip, in honour of his much improved puck-stopping skills (or was it a cruel joke mascarading as a bad pun?), was steady between the pipes. He allowed only one sloppy goal which, according to him and his Mom, was not his fault.

With this come from behind victory, the Strawberries are now 2 and 1 on the season and well positioned to defend the title they won in 2006…or was it 1996? In any event, it doesn’t matter. They are defending something and that is all that matters.

The team assembled for the customary debriefing at the Terminal Tavren. Tales of pseudo-lascivious tongue lashings were exaggerated and enjoyed by all. Previous absences were forgiven and peace reigned among the stars of this inscrutable universe.

10 Guinness, 4 Stella, 1 Bass, 2 Blue, 3 Black and Tan and 1 liter of Tasmanina Tongue Twister were consumed.