Standing Room Only Crowd Treated To Strawberry Delight

Killer Strawberries 4 Free Agents 2

Game Report

October 27, 2008



As bandwagons around the NHL get abandoned with predictable regularity, just the opposite is happening in our own backyard. The Killer Strawberries bandwagon is becoming crowded indeed, in no small part due to its early season success. Last evening you couldn’t even get a ticket to the return matchup between the Strawbs and their newest rivals, the tenacious and free wheeling Free Agents of Kalamazoo, Deep River, Port Au Prince, County Kerry, Ulan Bator and places beyond.

A Standing Room Only throng of 2 jostled about the arena in an attempt to get the best view of their on- ice heroes. Toes were crushed, hangnails splintered and lacy underthings ripped as the crowd prepared for the evening’s rematch. The VIP section was overflowing. Among the guests could be found the recently retired but not-dead-yet Madame LaChaise Lounge who was, just a month ago, self-appointed to the position of Field Marsha at the Compound For Minor Vice, once the almost exclusive domain of the redoubtable Dictator By The Lake, his grey eminence The Vice himself. Joining the Field Marsha was the delightful MagGirl, resplendent in the black and taupe squirrel coat purchased for her at last week’s Value Village Annual Used Fur Sale by her man, the swift skating/not-so-much-thinking MagBoy. It should be pointed out that the coat is a substitute for the engagement ring MagGirl has been expecting for the last 4 years. Better late than never I suppose.

MagGirl’s presence was certainly instrumental in elevating her beau’s on-ice play. Spurred on by her encouraging coos, MagBoy made love to his ego as he scored 2 highlight reel goals when they were needed the most. Apparently, the Vice was not quite so motivated by the presence of his new/old boss/wife/girlfriend/benefactoress. Having hidden himself away on defence for the better part of this season, he appeared befuddled at the centre’s position. His aging body was tone deaf to the urgings of his will as he fumbled about between the blue lines. At game’s end, he was heard complaining that even his wrinkles hurt. Despite his physical woes, he still managed to irk the auras of his opponents through the masterfully surreptitious use of small hooks, little knee applications and the occasional accidental body slam.

It only took four games into the season for Archilles Perron to display the wares what got him to the big team. After caressing a soft saucer-like pass from an alert Freight Train 444, Archilles barelled in on the frightened goaltender, head faked to his right and deposited the biscuit into a yawningly vacated top left corner. He has not scored a prettier goal in his illustrious career. (His other goal, in a peewee scrimmage, was actually quite ugly.)

The only 2 players who proved detrimental to the team were Warrin’ Peace and Sir Gumby. Warrin’ had a good excuse. His wife had told him he couldn’t play: kept leaving dirty dishes and dirtier pictures all over the house. He had been grounded for the first time since his third date with the gorgeous Samara Dessert. Happens to all of us.

Gumby was excuseless. He showed up to the game tired and surly, claiming physical and mental exhaustion. Forgot his helmet and his sense of humour. The replacement helmet found for him must have been too tight because on at least 2 occasions he had to be retrieved from the Free Agents’net, his tawdry garters caught irretrievably in the mesh. Couldn’t extricate himself from his dilemma on the second occurence and didn’t want to. Just sat there like Buddah on a cosmic bender. He was promptly benched, much to his satisfaction.

Post game, the players and its best looking fan assembled for a debriefing at the Terminal Tavren: everyone except for Archilles and for MagPie and his fiancee, both last seen entering the back seat of a pimped up Acura Vigor in the Pete Palangio parking lot, VIP section. Their health was toasted and their vigour admired.

4 Stella, 6 Black and Tan, 8 Keiths, 2 Blue, 1 Bud, 3 pounds of chicken wings and memories of long forgotten post-game trysts were consumed.