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Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Too Few Bodies

Spitfires 4 Killer Strawberries 2

Game Report

November 17, 2008

It has been a problem all season long. Except for one game this year, the Strawbs have been forced to face younger, faster and hungrier teams with a roster depleted by injury, pique, venereal disease and out-of-control wife control. Those who have shown up have played well above their abilities. It is unfortunate that Strawbs’ management couldn’t take all the extra weight put on by the team over the summer and create an additional skater or two for the team. Freight Train alone has put on enough bulk for 3 extra players. This is not a slight…it is just an observation. Freight Train has been carrying his weight night after night, unlike some gumbyesque others, whose name(s) cannot be mentioned in the interests of team harmony.

Last night was no exception to the chronic undermandedness of this august squad. Not only was the team at least one brick short of a load, some of the bricks had to play injured. The Vice was a veritable Timmy Cratchet, flaying about like a blind kitten caught in a bag of molasses. The team psychiatrist believes he is suffering from a loss of power which has accompanied his dethronement as Dictator By The Lake. Power corrupts…but loss of power corrupts absolutely.

Dr. Butcher Brophey played a stellar game despite the myriad of injuries which plagued his tortured torso. Although his ailments were self-reported, there is no reason to disbelieve that he was suffering from a hip flexor contusion, a jugular haematoma, non-athlete's foot, and a mysterious fungal affliction which is resulting in fewer post-game visits to the Zamboni Room. Looking at him in the dressing room, stripped to what is left of his manhood, one could not help but believe his claims. Nevertheless, his performance was exemplary against the Spitfires. In the dying seconds of the game, he hobbled his way into the opposition end and rifled a rocket off the crossbar, which shot, had it gone in, would have tied the game. He was chosen the game’s first star and received a certificate for a free hockey equipment sanitizing from Atomic Energy of Canada.

MagBoy continued his frenzied and feisty play, urged on certainly by a blond haired babe in the stands rumored to be his fiancee/housekeeper/personal banker. It could only have been love that propelled the team’s unofficial wit (he still has half-way to go before the full title is officially conferred upon him) to beat the crap out of the unfortunate Spitfire who:

a) tossed a carelessly lurid glance at his affianced, and,
b) had the temerity to skate across MagBoy's shadow in the dying embers of the game. It was a full evening’s work for our loose cannon and he deserves to be praised in this report.

Warrin’ Peace continued his string of unexplained absences. His latest excuse was that it is still deer season. This would normally be a good excuse but it has been learned that he was hunting deer on his home computer: doesn’t count. He had better show up soon or the team will not hold its next get together in his Garage Of Bad Ideas.

On the bright side, the team’s Executive has been summoned to Chicago by Obama’s presidential transition team. Seems the president-elect wants to ensure that the next round of free trade talks guarantees an unimpeded flow of Canadian hockey players to U.S. based teams. Apparently Obama once attended a charity-based hockey school in Oahu, Hawaii, which hockey school was one of the first eleemosynary ventures set up by the Strawbs’ Executive. Obama, a weak right winger, never forgot the kindness and especially the wisdom of the Strawbs’ organization which taught him the value of teamwork and practiced oratory. Young Barack was the first recipient of a Killer Strawberries Harvard scholarship and he obviously has used this leg-up to his advantage.

It is not expected that the prolonged absences of the Executive, now rooming temporarily at the Playboy Mansion, will affect this year’s drive to the Cup. The Executive plans to do some valuable recruiting while sojourning in Illinois. It is rumored that there will be some excellent talent on site which could boslter the team’s prospects on and off the ice.

As is and will forever be customary, the Strawbs recovened post-game at the Terminal Tavren to salve the wounds of defeat and to compare ailments, injuries and other personal affronts. Absentees were gently admonished and prayers of hope offered to the Great God Guinness.

20 bottles of Black and Blue, a pound of chicken wings, some flaccid fries and the team’s last tube of A535 were consumed.

1 comment:

Rob Greenfield said...

... and 5 pints of undrinkable, bad draft returned.