Here is the Strawbs team that won the final game to clinch Championship #3 in 4 years.Thursday, March 18, 2010
2009-2010 Champion Team of Final Game
Here is the Strawbs team that won the final game to clinch Championship #3 in 4 years.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Championship Victory!
Killer Strawberries 5 Aviation Iceholes 1
Game Report
March 15, 2010
All the stops in the Strawbs’ juggernaut were slammed to wide open this past Monday evening as the Killer Strawberries Hockey and Gentlemen’s Club directed its shinny machine to the ice pads of victory. Every talisman, good luck charm and voodoo incantation was used to ensure that the handsomest intramural squad in the history of intramural squads, a team so creaky its members must tie each others’ skates, copped its third College Championship in the last 4 years. The greatest relief was bidding adieu to the detested Aviation Iceholes, a team so loathed by the kitten-loving, dog-petting, tree-hugging Killer Strawberries that even the mention of this opponent is highly discouraged in polite company throughout the hockey cosmos.
It was not an easy path to intramural glory. A third of the Strawbs’ team was MIA on the evening, leaving the heavy lifting to be done by a valiant few who toiled ceaselessly to grab the Crown under adverse conditions. Absent was Freight Train Laronde who was overseas, introducing his pal, Butcher Brophey, to the seedier carnal exchanges of exotic Cairo. He did, however, send an email to the Strawbs, prior to the match, a “Pyramid Power” photo of himself and the Butcher, scandalously outfitted in purple loincloths while mounting camels at the foot of the largest pyramid they could find.
Also missing was Worn-E who was taking a well-deserved sabbatical in Orlando, Florida, where he was engaged in the study of “The Heuristic Educational Implications of Hedonistic Pursuits In Sub-Tropical Climes”. Sounds like a big rum infused piss-up to this writer.
Warrin’ Peace could not make it because his wife, the gorgeous Samara Dessert, had commanded him to remove all the Strawbs’ graffiti scratched into the walls of the Garage of Bad Ideas at an earlier soiree which had gotten out of hand.
Poor Dr. Thug was virtually immobilized by a post-anterior laceration of his medio-lateral cruciate, an injury he sustained while mysteriously attempting to remove his underwear on a slippery strip club floor somewhere near Delhi, Ontario. Even though he could not play, His Thuggery did show up to the arena to take over the coaching reins previously wielded by Paunch Imlach whose bail could not be posted by game time. Dr. Thug attributed the Strawbs’ triumph to the lucky knee brace he had lent to the Ice Marshall and to his expert manipulation of Gumby’s old Shanky, an ancient five iron which has been wielded successfully at all 3 Strawbs’ championship games in the last 4 years. As he is wont to do, the good Doctor downplayed the contribution of all the hockey acumen he has acquired over his last 80 years of self-concussing on frozen ponds and burlesque stages around the world.
On the ice, the Killer Strawberries executed to near perfection the game plan concocted by Gawdawful Gumby on his pre-game trip to the loo. “I want you guys to score early and often,” he barked to anyone who would listen. “And I will personally attend to any of you so-called hockey players if you don’t.” Frightened by the intensity of the Gawd’s oral delivery, the Strawbs did exactly as ordered. Bing Crossbah, the starting centre, moved the opening draw back to Archilles Perron who quickly spooned it back to the streaking Bing. Bing squeezed through the startled defence and slammed a missile just inside the right post. It took 7 seconds. Gumby thought it should have been done quicker but was still mildly pleased with the effort. Then Bing bonged again, scoring another beauty before the clock had ticked off 2 minutes. “Playing with the Ice Marshal opened up the ice for me all night long,” Bing burbled to reporters at the post game presser. "IMW may have a well deserved reputation as a smooth skating right winger, but more importantly he seems to magically draw opponents to his side of the rink. I almost felt alone out there with the space I had to work with.”
As for the Ice Marshal, he had his best game in 2 years, despite playing with a knee so wounded it had to be fused together with metal rods,titanium crosspieces and the prayers of his mother. Twice he harnessed blistering shots launched by the defence, manipulated them expertly in heavy traffic and neatly flipped them into tiny holes left by the Iceholes’ bewildered goaltender.
Pyjama Man was at the peak of feistiness and delivered an excellent performance for his long-suffering girlfriend, Loans Jones, who was watching him swooningly from the stands. MagBoy could barely be contained. He frustrated the opposition repeatedly with his supersonic speed, mettlesome play and halitosis. On more than one occasion, he expertly goaded an Icehole into taking a stupid penalty, which error in judgment usually resulted in a Strawbs’ goal.
The defence was magnificent. Shiny Sean Brightly was all over the ice, blocking shots, breaking up potential breakaways and sliding into scoring position with all the aplomb of a stealth missile. His two trips to the sin bin were well deserved and strategically useful in making the Iceholes pay for the liberties they were attempting to take with the corporal well-being of his Strawberrian team mates. P. Gumbington Pettigrew The Third also showed up to play, assisting on a least two markers, hustling when he ought to have hustled and shutting down the most dangerous of the Aviators. Archilles played way above his head. He was most adept at keeping the puck in the opposition’s end under trying circumstances, which adeptitude resulted in the third Strawbs’ tally. Serious consideration will be given to moving him full time to a point position next year.
And what can be said about the Vice that has not already been said. He must be the most frustrating guy to play against in the universe. Over the years, he has perfected the barely detectable elbow hook, the borderline defensive interference manoeuvre, the step on the opponent’s stick trick and so many other quasi-illegal moves that a hockey instructional video featuring his obstructionist magic is being proposed by more than one NHL organization.
As the last line of defence, Monsieur Le Plug rose to the occasion. He must have appeared like a Titan in oversized goalie apparel to the clearly baffled shooters on the other team. He was a veritable black hole between the pipes, sucking up any and all energy the opposition directed to his attention. He is definitely a lock on the Killer Strawberries' goalie of the year for 2009-2010. He reminds the Executive of a young Jesse The Leak, who now toils anonymously for Revenue Canada in some soul-sucking cubicle in Sudbury.
After the game, the team and its fans (2) reconvened at the terminal Tavren to slug back champagne, to clink glasses ad nauseum and to lavishly compliment each other on a fabulous season. Emails were sent out to the non-contributors, songs were sung and once again a calm soothing glow of victory well-earned permeated the air.
16 Jeroboams of Champagne, 2 Appletinis (Bootsey MagGirl's favourite), 47 Ibuprofen, 1 Ode To Shanky and lots of happy smiles were consumed
Game Report
March 15, 2010
All the stops in the Strawbs’ juggernaut were slammed to wide open this past Monday evening as the Killer Strawberries Hockey and Gentlemen’s Club directed its shinny machine to the ice pads of victory. Every talisman, good luck charm and voodoo incantation was used to ensure that the handsomest intramural squad in the history of intramural squads, a team so creaky its members must tie each others’ skates, copped its third College Championship in the last 4 years. The greatest relief was bidding adieu to the detested Aviation Iceholes, a team so loathed by the kitten-loving, dog-petting, tree-hugging Killer Strawberries that even the mention of this opponent is highly discouraged in polite company throughout the hockey cosmos.
It was not an easy path to intramural glory. A third of the Strawbs’ team was MIA on the evening, leaving the heavy lifting to be done by a valiant few who toiled ceaselessly to grab the Crown under adverse conditions. Absent was Freight Train Laronde who was overseas, introducing his pal, Butcher Brophey, to the seedier carnal exchanges of exotic Cairo. He did, however, send an email to the Strawbs, prior to the match, a “Pyramid Power” photo of himself and the Butcher, scandalously outfitted in purple loincloths while mounting camels at the foot of the largest pyramid they could find.
Also missing was Worn-E who was taking a well-deserved sabbatical in Orlando, Florida, where he was engaged in the study of “The Heuristic Educational Implications of Hedonistic Pursuits In Sub-Tropical Climes”. Sounds like a big rum infused piss-up to this writer.
Warrin’ Peace could not make it because his wife, the gorgeous Samara Dessert, had commanded him to remove all the Strawbs’ graffiti scratched into the walls of the Garage of Bad Ideas at an earlier soiree which had gotten out of hand.
Poor Dr. Thug was virtually immobilized by a post-anterior laceration of his medio-lateral cruciate, an injury he sustained while mysteriously attempting to remove his underwear on a slippery strip club floor somewhere near Delhi, Ontario. Even though he could not play, His Thuggery did show up to the arena to take over the coaching reins previously wielded by Paunch Imlach whose bail could not be posted by game time. Dr. Thug attributed the Strawbs’ triumph to the lucky knee brace he had lent to the Ice Marshall and to his expert manipulation of Gumby’s old Shanky, an ancient five iron which has been wielded successfully at all 3 Strawbs’ championship games in the last 4 years. As he is wont to do, the good Doctor downplayed the contribution of all the hockey acumen he has acquired over his last 80 years of self-concussing on frozen ponds and burlesque stages around the world.
On the ice, the Killer Strawberries executed to near perfection the game plan concocted by Gawdawful Gumby on his pre-game trip to the loo. “I want you guys to score early and often,” he barked to anyone who would listen. “And I will personally attend to any of you so-called hockey players if you don’t.” Frightened by the intensity of the Gawd’s oral delivery, the Strawbs did exactly as ordered. Bing Crossbah, the starting centre, moved the opening draw back to Archilles Perron who quickly spooned it back to the streaking Bing. Bing squeezed through the startled defence and slammed a missile just inside the right post. It took 7 seconds. Gumby thought it should have been done quicker but was still mildly pleased with the effort. Then Bing bonged again, scoring another beauty before the clock had ticked off 2 minutes. “Playing with the Ice Marshal opened up the ice for me all night long,” Bing burbled to reporters at the post game presser. "IMW may have a well deserved reputation as a smooth skating right winger, but more importantly he seems to magically draw opponents to his side of the rink. I almost felt alone out there with the space I had to work with.”
As for the Ice Marshal, he had his best game in 2 years, despite playing with a knee so wounded it had to be fused together with metal rods,titanium crosspieces and the prayers of his mother. Twice he harnessed blistering shots launched by the defence, manipulated them expertly in heavy traffic and neatly flipped them into tiny holes left by the Iceholes’ bewildered goaltender.
Pyjama Man was at the peak of feistiness and delivered an excellent performance for his long-suffering girlfriend, Loans Jones, who was watching him swooningly from the stands. MagBoy could barely be contained. He frustrated the opposition repeatedly with his supersonic speed, mettlesome play and halitosis. On more than one occasion, he expertly goaded an Icehole into taking a stupid penalty, which error in judgment usually resulted in a Strawbs’ goal.
The defence was magnificent. Shiny Sean Brightly was all over the ice, blocking shots, breaking up potential breakaways and sliding into scoring position with all the aplomb of a stealth missile. His two trips to the sin bin were well deserved and strategically useful in making the Iceholes pay for the liberties they were attempting to take with the corporal well-being of his Strawberrian team mates. P. Gumbington Pettigrew The Third also showed up to play, assisting on a least two markers, hustling when he ought to have hustled and shutting down the most dangerous of the Aviators. Archilles played way above his head. He was most adept at keeping the puck in the opposition’s end under trying circumstances, which adeptitude resulted in the third Strawbs’ tally. Serious consideration will be given to moving him full time to a point position next year.
And what can be said about the Vice that has not already been said. He must be the most frustrating guy to play against in the universe. Over the years, he has perfected the barely detectable elbow hook, the borderline defensive interference manoeuvre, the step on the opponent’s stick trick and so many other quasi-illegal moves that a hockey instructional video featuring his obstructionist magic is being proposed by more than one NHL organization.
As the last line of defence, Monsieur Le Plug rose to the occasion. He must have appeared like a Titan in oversized goalie apparel to the clearly baffled shooters on the other team. He was a veritable black hole between the pipes, sucking up any and all energy the opposition directed to his attention. He is definitely a lock on the Killer Strawberries' goalie of the year for 2009-2010. He reminds the Executive of a young Jesse The Leak, who now toils anonymously for Revenue Canada in some soul-sucking cubicle in Sudbury.
After the game, the team and its fans (2) reconvened at the terminal Tavren to slug back champagne, to clink glasses ad nauseum and to lavishly compliment each other on a fabulous season. Emails were sent out to the non-contributors, songs were sung and once again a calm soothing glow of victory well-earned permeated the air.
16 Jeroboams of Champagne, 2 Appletinis (Bootsey MagGirl's favourite), 47 Ibuprofen, 1 Ode To Shanky and lots of happy smiles were consumed
Monday, March 15, 2010
Pyramid Power
Strawbs vacation in Egypt rather than play in finals. At least the "colours" are being shown world wide.Tuesday, March 09, 2010
Iceholes Paunched Into Submission
Game Report
March 4, 2010
Killer Strawberries 7 Aviation Iceholes 2
Last night was the first game in a 2 out 3 series between the ancient Killer Strawberries and their despised rivals, the Aviation Iceholes . The Pete Palangio Arena was rocking hours before game time as fans from as far away as across the street streamed into the ice palace to take in the evening’s entertainment. Both the candy bar machine and the pop dispenser were sold out before the drop of the puck. Or maybe they were just broken but it can be said with certainty that the Vice lost at least 4 loonies looking to grab a quick nutritious dinner before he had to lace them up.
Once again, the Killer Strawberries were lead by coach Paunch Imlach who had been parachuted in to replace the bench stylings of the inimitable Ice Marshal Walpole. The IMW was still recuperating at the Aloha Baby Compound under the very close care of Candy and Mandy Delicious, dedicated professionals in the caring industry. Coach Paunch, using a complicated admixture of voodoo, a five iron, a German drinking hat and bluster, whipped the Strawbs into a frenzy just as they were to step on the ice. The adrenalin was running so high, mothers were asked to remove their daughters from the arena lest something crazy happen.
The Strawbs bolted from the gate. After giving up the first goal, they never looked back. The Iceholes spent more time on their heels than a Baltimore street walker on St. Patrick’s Day. MagBoy was, in his own estimation, “magnificent”, potting 3 goals, roughin’ it up in every zone and even making well timed trips to the Sin Bin. Bing skated like an 18 year old jacked up on Bennies and contributed excellent offensive and defensive play. Dr. Thug scored the ugliest goal of his career by laying on his back, flailing at the puck with his arms and legs and stick and ears. How the puck went in is still a mystery, but its crossing of the goal line was accompanied was the most joyfyl "YEAAAAAAA" in the history of hockey. Dr. Thug followed the referee all the way to timekeeper's box to ensure that there was no confusion as the identity of the artist who produced the goal.
Somebodies else scored the other markers. Those somebodies else included neither Freight Train nor Worn-E, nor Archilles, nor Gumby, nor Shiny, nor Warrin’ Peace whose continued absences from important playoff games has earned him a one way ticket to Butthole, Alaska to toil for the Butthole Bottom Feeders, the Strawbs’ farm team’s farm team.
On the defensive side of the ledger, the blueliners' play was okay, if by okay you mean not below shitty.
After the match, the squad reassembled at the Terminal Tavren. They called the IMW to let him know that he was still loved and sorely missed, even in victory. The IMW then emailed all the Strawbs pictures of him recuperating with double Delicious martinis. Here’s hoping he can make it back for game 2.
4 Stella, 5 Guinness, 7 Keiths, 3.1914 rounds of cider, some Pi, 3 birthday Scotches provided by the Cairo bound Freight Train and some fine recollections of Icehole butt-kickin’ were consumed.
March 4, 2010
Killer Strawberries 7 Aviation Iceholes 2
Last night was the first game in a 2 out 3 series between the ancient Killer Strawberries and their despised rivals, the Aviation Iceholes . The Pete Palangio Arena was rocking hours before game time as fans from as far away as across the street streamed into the ice palace to take in the evening’s entertainment. Both the candy bar machine and the pop dispenser were sold out before the drop of the puck. Or maybe they were just broken but it can be said with certainty that the Vice lost at least 4 loonies looking to grab a quick nutritious dinner before he had to lace them up.
Once again, the Killer Strawberries were lead by coach Paunch Imlach who had been parachuted in to replace the bench stylings of the inimitable Ice Marshal Walpole. The IMW was still recuperating at the Aloha Baby Compound under the very close care of Candy and Mandy Delicious, dedicated professionals in the caring industry. Coach Paunch, using a complicated admixture of voodoo, a five iron, a German drinking hat and bluster, whipped the Strawbs into a frenzy just as they were to step on the ice. The adrenalin was running so high, mothers were asked to remove their daughters from the arena lest something crazy happen.
The Strawbs bolted from the gate. After giving up the first goal, they never looked back. The Iceholes spent more time on their heels than a Baltimore street walker on St. Patrick’s Day. MagBoy was, in his own estimation, “magnificent”, potting 3 goals, roughin’ it up in every zone and even making well timed trips to the Sin Bin. Bing skated like an 18 year old jacked up on Bennies and contributed excellent offensive and defensive play. Dr. Thug scored the ugliest goal of his career by laying on his back, flailing at the puck with his arms and legs and stick and ears. How the puck went in is still a mystery, but its crossing of the goal line was accompanied was the most joyfyl "YEAAAAAAA" in the history of hockey. Dr. Thug followed the referee all the way to timekeeper's box to ensure that there was no confusion as the identity of the artist who produced the goal.
Somebodies else scored the other markers. Those somebodies else included neither Freight Train nor Worn-E, nor Archilles, nor Gumby, nor Shiny, nor Warrin’ Peace whose continued absences from important playoff games has earned him a one way ticket to Butthole, Alaska to toil for the Butthole Bottom Feeders, the Strawbs’ farm team’s farm team.
On the defensive side of the ledger, the blueliners' play was okay, if by okay you mean not below shitty.
After the match, the squad reassembled at the Terminal Tavren. They called the IMW to let him know that he was still loved and sorely missed, even in victory. The IMW then emailed all the Strawbs pictures of him recuperating with double Delicious martinis. Here’s hoping he can make it back for game 2.
4 Stella, 5 Guinness, 7 Keiths, 3.1914 rounds of cider, some Pi, 3 birthday Scotches provided by the Cairo bound Freight Train and some fine recollections of Icehole butt-kickin’ were consumed.
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Rebound
Killer Strawberries 2 B*****ds 1 (SO)
Game Report
March 3, 2010
Last night, the Killer Strawberries showed once again what they can do when their backs are against the wall, when there is no tomorrow, when it’s do or die and when they run out of clichés. Facing elimination against the swift skating B****ds, they came to play and play they did.
It should be noted at the outset that Mr. Adversity was stalking the arena right up til game time. Warrin’ Peace was a no show, having entered a witless protection program somewhere on Manitoulin Island. The redoubtable Ice Marshall, who in a match earlier in the week against the detested Aviation Iceholes had sacrificed his fragile body for the good of the team, was unable to dress, being confined to bedrest at the Aloha Baby Compound under the excellent medical and other care of twin nurse sisters Candy and Mandy Delicious. “It’s been a hard ho to row” (or something to that effect) stated the IMW in his pre-game conference call to the team. “I’ll be back soon to do whatever I can to ensure our third championship in 4 years.”
Taking over bench duties, just fresh from his 14th stint at the Betty Ford, Paunch Imlach exhorted and excoriated his new squad to higher efforts. The team responded like Shiny to the dinner bell. Worn-E had his best game of the season, riffing magical musical numbers of hockey elegance, and left etched into the ice surface scrawlings worthy of any French Impressionist. Not once did he clamour for his nitro, which was securely ensconced in the inside mickey pocket of Paunch’s favourite smoking jacket.
The Vice, haggard and worn from out from monitoring the progress of his youngest daughter’s first encounter with childbirth (it was girl, Emmy Liz, born March 3, 2010 at 2:12am, wearing a hockey helmet and very tiny bob skates), put his hockey sagacity and his blazing slowness on display. With the game tied at 1-1 and with under 2 minutes left to go in the very tight match, the Vice found himself on the ass end of a 2 on 0. Realizing he would not catch the streaking B****d puck handler, he concentrated his efforts on the trailing player. The streaking B****d made a great move but was stymied by the sharp Monsieur LePlug as the poor B****d slammed his sorry self into the end boards. As the puck lay tantalizingly close to the goal line, unattended and screaming for attention, the Vice expertly lifted the straggler’s stick before the stunned fellow could deposit the biscuit into the slightly open cage: disaster averted and score still tied.
The Vice's defence partners, Shiny and P. Gumbington Pettigrew III, were superb: Shiny was truly stellar with his frequent offensive forays and defensive legerdemain. Gumby’s recollection of his performance had him self-rated at an 11 out 10. He actually played at a 9 out of 10 level, the only flaw in his game being his relentless attempts to get Coach Paunch to deliver his nearly useless missives to the forwards on the bench. Fortunately, those forwards have always been wise enough to discount Gumbo’s advice by 50% and then to ignore what is left.
On offence, MagBoy was a human buzzsaw and were it not for his Vice-like dedication to inaccuracy, could have a potted an easy couple. Archilles contributed the first marker of the game, a beauty now on video display in the Smutsonian Institute, housed in his basement crawlspace. Freight Train fought off his African jet lag just in time to suffer from hands colder than a bishop’s embrace. Still, he had an excellent passing game. Dr. Thug, self-medicated and as content as a kitten in a mouse-infested yarn factory, skated as if mired in quicksand, yet still managed to contribute offensively (or so he claimed after the game to his adoring audience of minus 1).
Pyjama Man and Bing Crossbah were solid, with Bing being double teamed most of the night. In the shootout, Pymama Man took the first Strawbs’ penalty shot and flung a mean backhander high into the B****d’s cage. Crossbah, although reluctant to take the second shot, did not disappoint. He faked left, then right, then left again, called his grandma on his cell for advice, kicked the puck up to his forehand, twirled about and launched a low drive into the net. Joy erupted on the Strawbs’ side of the rink, the B***ds having missed their second attempt, once again shut down by the Man, Monsieur LePlug.
With the victory, the Killer Strawberries begin a best 2 out of 3 series against their favourite team to hate: the Aviation Iceholes. It promises to be ugly.
Post game (12:15am EST), the exhausted Strawbs were in no shape to scurry off to the Terminal Tavren. Alternate means of celebration were found.
xx ---, yyy ----, -z2+2x+4 ---------, a pound of licorice and visions of a glorious destiny were consumed.
Game Report
March 3, 2010
Last night, the Killer Strawberries showed once again what they can do when their backs are against the wall, when there is no tomorrow, when it’s do or die and when they run out of clichés. Facing elimination against the swift skating B****ds, they came to play and play they did.
It should be noted at the outset that Mr. Adversity was stalking the arena right up til game time. Warrin’ Peace was a no show, having entered a witless protection program somewhere on Manitoulin Island. The redoubtable Ice Marshall, who in a match earlier in the week against the detested Aviation Iceholes had sacrificed his fragile body for the good of the team, was unable to dress, being confined to bedrest at the Aloha Baby Compound under the excellent medical and other care of twin nurse sisters Candy and Mandy Delicious. “It’s been a hard ho to row” (or something to that effect) stated the IMW in his pre-game conference call to the team. “I’ll be back soon to do whatever I can to ensure our third championship in 4 years.”
Taking over bench duties, just fresh from his 14th stint at the Betty Ford, Paunch Imlach exhorted and excoriated his new squad to higher efforts. The team responded like Shiny to the dinner bell. Worn-E had his best game of the season, riffing magical musical numbers of hockey elegance, and left etched into the ice surface scrawlings worthy of any French Impressionist. Not once did he clamour for his nitro, which was securely ensconced in the inside mickey pocket of Paunch’s favourite smoking jacket.
The Vice, haggard and worn from out from monitoring the progress of his youngest daughter’s first encounter with childbirth (it was girl, Emmy Liz, born March 3, 2010 at 2:12am, wearing a hockey helmet and very tiny bob skates), put his hockey sagacity and his blazing slowness on display. With the game tied at 1-1 and with under 2 minutes left to go in the very tight match, the Vice found himself on the ass end of a 2 on 0. Realizing he would not catch the streaking B****d puck handler, he concentrated his efforts on the trailing player. The streaking B****d made a great move but was stymied by the sharp Monsieur LePlug as the poor B****d slammed his sorry self into the end boards. As the puck lay tantalizingly close to the goal line, unattended and screaming for attention, the Vice expertly lifted the straggler’s stick before the stunned fellow could deposit the biscuit into the slightly open cage: disaster averted and score still tied.
The Vice's defence partners, Shiny and P. Gumbington Pettigrew III, were superb: Shiny was truly stellar with his frequent offensive forays and defensive legerdemain. Gumby’s recollection of his performance had him self-rated at an 11 out 10. He actually played at a 9 out of 10 level, the only flaw in his game being his relentless attempts to get Coach Paunch to deliver his nearly useless missives to the forwards on the bench. Fortunately, those forwards have always been wise enough to discount Gumbo’s advice by 50% and then to ignore what is left.
On offence, MagBoy was a human buzzsaw and were it not for his Vice-like dedication to inaccuracy, could have a potted an easy couple. Archilles contributed the first marker of the game, a beauty now on video display in the Smutsonian Institute, housed in his basement crawlspace. Freight Train fought off his African jet lag just in time to suffer from hands colder than a bishop’s embrace. Still, he had an excellent passing game. Dr. Thug, self-medicated and as content as a kitten in a mouse-infested yarn factory, skated as if mired in quicksand, yet still managed to contribute offensively (or so he claimed after the game to his adoring audience of minus 1).
Pyjama Man and Bing Crossbah were solid, with Bing being double teamed most of the night. In the shootout, Pymama Man took the first Strawbs’ penalty shot and flung a mean backhander high into the B****d’s cage. Crossbah, although reluctant to take the second shot, did not disappoint. He faked left, then right, then left again, called his grandma on his cell for advice, kicked the puck up to his forehand, twirled about and launched a low drive into the net. Joy erupted on the Strawbs’ side of the rink, the B***ds having missed their second attempt, once again shut down by the Man, Monsieur LePlug.
With the victory, the Killer Strawberries begin a best 2 out of 3 series against their favourite team to hate: the Aviation Iceholes. It promises to be ugly.
Post game (12:15am EST), the exhausted Strawbs were in no shape to scurry off to the Terminal Tavren. Alternate means of celebration were found.
xx ---, yyy ----, -z2+2x+4 ---------, a pound of licorice and visions of a glorious destiny were consumed.
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
Strawbs Look Adversity In The Face
Game report
March 1, 2010
Killer Strawberries 2 Aviation Panthers 3 (SO)
Last evening, without Warrin’ Peace (hangnail injury) in the lineup, the Killer Strawberries were defeated by this year’s arch enema, the Aviation Panthers, a good team with a couple of meatheads who think spearing and slashing are spiritual acts.
The Panthers scored early and took a 2-0 lead into the final 7 minutes of the game. Both sides had a few good chances, with the Strawbs ringing the biscuit off the post on 3 occasions in the last period. With its “never give up” attitude, the squad fought back valiantly to tie the score at 2-2 and almost notched the victory with a goal mouth scramble as time expired.
Overtime consisted of a sudden death shootout, meaning each team would send one player to take a penalty-type shot simultaneously at opposite ends of the rink. Bing Crossbah shot first (and last) for the Strawbs, wiring a good shot off the side of the goalie, narrowly missing pay dirt. The Panthers were more fortunate, with a beautiful deke move resulting in the winning goal.
Next game is this Wednesday, with the winner advancing to the finals against last night’s foes. The Killer Strawberries will be pumped and looking for a rematch with the despised Panther Iceholes.
Following the match, the Strawbs scampered off to the Terminal Tavren to lick their wounds and to plot next game strategy. They plan to put back the FU in hockey fun.
0 Stella (and 0 Big Rock Cider, its uninspired replacement at the Terminal Tavren), 2 Black and Tan, 1 Bud Light, 3 Keiths, 2 Guinness, 4 Bass, 3 pounds of emu wings and some mental scarring were consumed.
March 1, 2010
Killer Strawberries 2 Aviation Panthers 3 (SO)
Last evening, without Warrin’ Peace (hangnail injury) in the lineup, the Killer Strawberries were defeated by this year’s arch enema, the Aviation Panthers, a good team with a couple of meatheads who think spearing and slashing are spiritual acts.
The Panthers scored early and took a 2-0 lead into the final 7 minutes of the game. Both sides had a few good chances, with the Strawbs ringing the biscuit off the post on 3 occasions in the last period. With its “never give up” attitude, the squad fought back valiantly to tie the score at 2-2 and almost notched the victory with a goal mouth scramble as time expired.
Overtime consisted of a sudden death shootout, meaning each team would send one player to take a penalty-type shot simultaneously at opposite ends of the rink. Bing Crossbah shot first (and last) for the Strawbs, wiring a good shot off the side of the goalie, narrowly missing pay dirt. The Panthers were more fortunate, with a beautiful deke move resulting in the winning goal.
Next game is this Wednesday, with the winner advancing to the finals against last night’s foes. The Killer Strawberries will be pumped and looking for a rematch with the despised Panther Iceholes.
Following the match, the Strawbs scampered off to the Terminal Tavren to lick their wounds and to plot next game strategy. They plan to put back the FU in hockey fun.
0 Stella (and 0 Big Rock Cider, its uninspired replacement at the Terminal Tavren), 2 Black and Tan, 1 Bud Light, 3 Keiths, 2 Guinness, 4 Bass, 3 pounds of emu wings and some mental scarring were consumed.
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