Killer Strawberries 2 Sunnivale Chargers 0
Game Report January 26, 2012 Record: 10-3-2
Despite having more than 200 years of top flight hockey experience on the disabled list, the Killer Strawberries, bolstered by some fine goaltending by the Marquis DeSave, managed to pull out a 2-0 win over a confused squad of Sunnivale Chargers. Butcher Brophey (ACL, right medial lobe, foreskin), Dr. Thug (chilblains and rickets), Freight Train (hip, lip and grip) and Rob The Torch Greenfield (Glenfiddichitis) were unable or unwilling to suit up for the tussle. Management is detecting a pattern of abnormal absenteeism on evenings when Miss White Go Go Boots is entertaining the troops at Naughty Nina’s on old highway 63 (she is the hostess). Come on boys, we all know she is beautiful and alluring but hockey must be your first priority.
On defence, Pyjama Man once again showed why he is a perennial all-star in the Canadore Intramural Hockey League. It is not his accustomed position. (He is usually on his knees begging for forgiveness). Yet he patrolled the blueline with aplomb and with other attributes than can only be described with French words. Shiny was a workhorse, logging over 30 minutes, most of them on the ice. Gumby, not to be outdone, was outdone, yet put in, what was for him, a superior performance.
Up front, the play was a little scrambly. Much of this scrambliness was due to the fact that the team spent just over half the game making small talk with the scorekeeper, a cute little brunette with a weakness for sweaty retards. Lil Wagner was particularly offensive, taking 2 penalties early on. Three penalties and it’s the showers for you sucker. Lil W. was on his better behavior from then on in. MagBoy was a buzzsaw, Dash Headlong, a whirling dervish with visions of post-game Creemore dancing in his head. Mayor Maynot, fresh from giving a sermon at the local Lesbyterian church, was inspired and athletically effusive. The Ice Marshall was august and modularly post-coital. His broken leg did not in the least lessen his performance on the ice.
After several cold showers (the hot water was not working), the team reconvened at the Terminal Tavren to plot its playoff run and to discuss whether it should try to play a 40 minute short-handed game next time, just to see if it can be done. 12 Creemore of various ilks, 2 Guinness, 3 Steamwhistle, 1 Blue, 6 pounds of protean protein and talk of drafting some younger players were consumed.
PS: The Vice's bench bossing was stellar.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Workmanlike Win
Killer Strawberries 6 Sunnivale 2
Game Report
Record 9-3-2
January 23, 2012
With Butcher Brophey out with a lacerated ACL, the Vice nursing a wonky elbow and Gumby studying up for his Doctor of Divinity with the Universal Church of Secondary Sin, the Strawbs still went on to defeat a demoralized Sunnivale Charger squad by a score of 6-2.
Even with Lil Wagner gooning it up with various opponents and spending time in the sin bin, the victory turned out to be an easy one. Pyjama Man, Shiny and Freight Train were solid on the blueline. The forwards were workmanlike and efficient, scoring when they had to, backchecking only when necessary.
The Marquis was not greatly tested between the pipes but did manage a few saves of note (but not noted here any further).
The Strawbs could have won this game with 6 Gumbys. Thank Gawd there’s no chance of that ever happening.
Those still awake at game’s end went out to the Terminal Tavren to get some real exercise. Four glasses of water and a grape knee high were consumed.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Trout Lake Driftwood lost on the snowy beaches
Killer Strawberries 6 Drunken Moose’s 0
Game Report
January 19, 2012
Record: 8-3-2
Players were missing from both ends of the age spectrum and the TroutLake Driftwood foursome were missing likely disoriented and wandering the lake during a freak snow squall. Did someone say there was a case of scotch buried beneath the ice? Alternatively they were supposed to meet in the middle of trout lake and discuss tonight’s game but like navigating the ice rink there was too much whiteness. They likely ended up on the boards, I mean shoreline. If they exceed my expectations and survive to read this blog then note: Your attendance at the next game is optional. Gumby please drop off the water bottles by 745. That is all.
During the warm up the opposing team skated about with over confidence as they stared across the red line at a squad of 6 who weren’t even bothering to warm up. It was actually a treat to skip the pre-game line up lecture typically delivered in a communistic like fashion.
What the opposing Moose didn’t realize is that they ought to have sobered up before their grunts of assumed victory. By the time the first period was over the strawbs line +1 was filling the net like a commercial fishing vessel on a Tuna run. The Drunken Moose-es-says scrambled to crack the tireless defensive duo of Freight Train and Shinny by calling out the play that the leading forward should make upon crossing our blue line. That may have worked if we were deaf.
The Mayor dipped and dunked, stole the puck from the Drunk’d. Lill Wagner, Pyjama Man and MagBoy hardly let the puck cross our blue line except when we were setting up for the flying V. Even the Zebra’s tried to crack the short benched Strawbs by calling questionable penalties including a 5 minute on Shinny who was later sent to the dressing room early, leaving the Strawbs with 4 on the ice and 1 in the box. If it wasn’t for Marquis DeSave filling in for the missing defenseman and scoring a shorthanded hat-trick we wouldn’t have walked away with a 6-0 victory.
Half the team showed up to Terminal Tavren. By that I mean 3 players thus the highest post game attendance ratio to date.
4 Steam whistle, a glass of water, some simulated meat "on a bone" morsels and the effectiveness of a short bench win were consumed.
Game Report
January 19, 2012
Record: 8-3-2
Players were missing from both ends of the age spectrum and the TroutLake Driftwood foursome were missing likely disoriented and wandering the lake during a freak snow squall. Did someone say there was a case of scotch buried beneath the ice? Alternatively they were supposed to meet in the middle of trout lake and discuss tonight’s game but like navigating the ice rink there was too much whiteness. They likely ended up on the boards, I mean shoreline. If they exceed my expectations and survive to read this blog then note: Your attendance at the next game is optional. Gumby please drop off the water bottles by 745. That is all.
During the warm up the opposing team skated about with over confidence as they stared across the red line at a squad of 6 who weren’t even bothering to warm up. It was actually a treat to skip the pre-game line up lecture typically delivered in a communistic like fashion.
What the opposing Moose didn’t realize is that they ought to have sobered up before their grunts of assumed victory. By the time the first period was over the strawbs line +1 was filling the net like a commercial fishing vessel on a Tuna run. The Drunken Moose-es-says scrambled to crack the tireless defensive duo of Freight Train and Shinny by calling out the play that the leading forward should make upon crossing our blue line. That may have worked if we were deaf.
The Mayor dipped and dunked, stole the puck from the Drunk’d. Lill Wagner, Pyjama Man and MagBoy hardly let the puck cross our blue line except when we were setting up for the flying V. Even the Zebra’s tried to crack the short benched Strawbs by calling questionable penalties including a 5 minute on Shinny who was later sent to the dressing room early, leaving the Strawbs with 4 on the ice and 1 in the box. If it wasn’t for Marquis DeSave filling in for the missing defenseman and scoring a shorthanded hat-trick we wouldn’t have walked away with a 6-0 victory.
Half the team showed up to Terminal Tavren. By that I mean 3 players thus the highest post game attendance ratio to date.
4 Steam whistle, a glass of water, some simulated meat "on a bone" morsels and the effectiveness of a short bench win were consumed.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
A Double Loss
A Double Loss
Killer Strawberries 2 Barn Muckers 3
Game Report
January 16, 2012
Record: 7-3-2
With Pyjama Man unavailable due to injuries suffered in a home-manscaping gone bad, and with Gumby out for counseling, and with the Vice out of Scotch, the Killer Strawberries managed to put in a spirited performance against a strong squad of Barn Muckers.
The game was close throughout as the Marquis finally put in an effort worthy of Strawberrydom. The forwards and defence were stellar, including Dash Headlong, just freshly returned from a month of unrestrained Saturnalia in his hometown: Langorous Rapids, Manitoba.
Unfortunately, with 12 seconds left in the game and the score tied at 2-2, the Ice Marshal had some kind of cosmic brain fart and coughed up the puck at his own blueline. The opportunistic Muckers seized the chance to pot the winning goal. “ I played like a burrito crossed with a toothless comb” moaned the team leader. “I am demoting myself to the Bottomfeeders until I feel better”. The Executive concurred with him, and he will spend the next week spreading his not-unsubstantial charm in the boondocks.
Following the debacle, the squad braved a snowstorm to get to the Terminal Tavren to lick the wounds of a victory lost and to lament the loss of their spiritual leader and moneylender.
4 Muskoka Cream Ale, 6 Guinness, 7 Bud Light, a glass of water and the temporary loss of the captain they admire were consumed.
Killer Strawberries 2 Barn Muckers 3
Game Report
January 16, 2012
Record: 7-3-2
With Pyjama Man unavailable due to injuries suffered in a home-manscaping gone bad, and with Gumby out for counseling, and with the Vice out of Scotch, the Killer Strawberries managed to put in a spirited performance against a strong squad of Barn Muckers.
The game was close throughout as the Marquis finally put in an effort worthy of Strawberrydom. The forwards and defence were stellar, including Dash Headlong, just freshly returned from a month of unrestrained Saturnalia in his hometown: Langorous Rapids, Manitoba.
Unfortunately, with 12 seconds left in the game and the score tied at 2-2, the Ice Marshal had some kind of cosmic brain fart and coughed up the puck at his own blueline. The opportunistic Muckers seized the chance to pot the winning goal. “ I played like a burrito crossed with a toothless comb” moaned the team leader. “I am demoting myself to the Bottomfeeders until I feel better”. The Executive concurred with him, and he will spend the next week spreading his not-unsubstantial charm in the boondocks.
Following the debacle, the squad braved a snowstorm to get to the Terminal Tavren to lick the wounds of a victory lost and to lament the loss of their spiritual leader and moneylender.
4 Muskoka Cream Ale, 6 Guinness, 7 Bud Light, a glass of water and the temporary loss of the captain they admire were consumed.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
20 Good Elbows
Killer Strawberries 7 Aviation Invasion 1
Game Report
January 12, 2012
Record-Revised 7-2-2
There are usually many reasons for victory (and usually many, many more for defeat). Let’s start with the obvious ones for victory: the injuries and the no-shows.
The Vice was absent due to a recurring drinking injury involving his left elbow. This past Christmas season has been especially hard on him, what with never-ending visits by the likes Jim Is-so and by The Gumby and his ilk. It did not help either that the Vice lives in way-too-close proximity to the Ice Marshal’s liquor cabinet. Fortunately, The Vice has fashioned a rather advanced machine to aid him with his heavy lifting. His calls this aid (aide?) Marsha.
Dash Headlong failed to appear as well. Apparently, he is still being feted with a two month long revelry in his hometown, which revelry is commemorating his first goal as a Strawb, scored sometime around December 6, 2011. Come back, Sir, the team needs you. Bring beer.
To round out the missing, let’s not forget Dr. Butcher Brophey who is the only human ever to have circumcised himself with a hockey stick just to know how it must feel to be his opponent in an unsupervised corner. According to the team’s spies and procurers, the good doctor was delivering some kind of sermon or address to his local church on the topic of Self-Forgiveness. Wethinks he may have been in over his head. According to his paramour, the lovely and talented Miss White Go-Go Boots, a frequent overnight guest at his dacha on One Mile Drive (a gross misnomer), he could not make the game because he had burst like an overstuffed horsehair couch after Christmas dinner. The team’s upholsterer expects the Butcher to be soon recovered.
Now to the game itself. The line of Mayor Maynot, Lil Wagner and the Ice Marshal were devastating. Their passes were smoother and more frequent that the White House Clintons and they scored more often. On one shift early in the game, they pounded in three markers in under two minutes before removing themselves to the bench for a well-deserved breather. They scored many more times and could have had even more goals had Lil Wagner not repeatedly mistaken the back boards for the back of the net.
The line of Dr. Thug, Pyjama Man and MagBoy were almost as good as the top line. Enough said about them. No use dwelling on second best.
On defence, a neutral observer would have thought the squad had been involved in some kind of holiday blockbuster trade to bolster its blueline. The observer would have been correct in his observation but wrong in his rationale. The D did step up to previously unseen heights. Freight Train Laronde was a mountain of solidity and flawless execution at both ends of the rink. Shiny Shone Brightly, eager to add to his offensiveness, was often in on the play, just missing a few solid chances but capitalizing on others. His second goal was a thing of beauty. He rang the rubber biscuit off the interior upper middle post so hard that the ringing can still be heard in Butthole, Alaska. What a beauty!
The Gumby not only Gumbied, he meta-Gumbied by completing his first ever “Gumby Hat Trick”: a real goal, a questionable penalty and well-played unsportsmanlike misconduct. Bravo Sir Gumby, your pitiful life now has some meaning.
Between the pipes, the Marquis DeSave displayed his routine adequacy. He may have faced only one shot but he did get his glove on a bit of it before the puck trickled into his cage with all the energy of a drunken co-ed peeing her pants on New Year’s Day morning.
After the match, 20 good elbows braved the snow filled roads to be insulted by their favourite perky barmaid at the Terminal Tavren. Poppy Creeme greeted her Thursday night men with cold suds and a warm heart, always at the ready with a few bon mots and a gentle gibe to keep the conversation lively.
3 Steamwhistle, 2 Muskoka Cream Ale, 7 Guinness, 3 gallons of unfiltered water, and most-assuredly-not-the last retelling of the Gumby Hat Trick Caper were consumed.
Game Report
January 12, 2012
Record-Revised 7-2-2
There are usually many reasons for victory (and usually many, many more for defeat). Let’s start with the obvious ones for victory: the injuries and the no-shows.
The Vice was absent due to a recurring drinking injury involving his left elbow. This past Christmas season has been especially hard on him, what with never-ending visits by the likes Jim Is-so and by The Gumby and his ilk. It did not help either that the Vice lives in way-too-close proximity to the Ice Marshal’s liquor cabinet. Fortunately, The Vice has fashioned a rather advanced machine to aid him with his heavy lifting. His calls this aid (aide?) Marsha.
Dash Headlong failed to appear as well. Apparently, he is still being feted with a two month long revelry in his hometown, which revelry is commemorating his first goal as a Strawb, scored sometime around December 6, 2011. Come back, Sir, the team needs you. Bring beer.
To round out the missing, let’s not forget Dr. Butcher Brophey who is the only human ever to have circumcised himself with a hockey stick just to know how it must feel to be his opponent in an unsupervised corner. According to the team’s spies and procurers, the good doctor was delivering some kind of sermon or address to his local church on the topic of Self-Forgiveness. Wethinks he may have been in over his head. According to his paramour, the lovely and talented Miss White Go-Go Boots, a frequent overnight guest at his dacha on One Mile Drive (a gross misnomer), he could not make the game because he had burst like an overstuffed horsehair couch after Christmas dinner. The team’s upholsterer expects the Butcher to be soon recovered.
Now to the game itself. The line of Mayor Maynot, Lil Wagner and the Ice Marshal were devastating. Their passes were smoother and more frequent that the White House Clintons and they scored more often. On one shift early in the game, they pounded in three markers in under two minutes before removing themselves to the bench for a well-deserved breather. They scored many more times and could have had even more goals had Lil Wagner not repeatedly mistaken the back boards for the back of the net.
The line of Dr. Thug, Pyjama Man and MagBoy were almost as good as the top line. Enough said about them. No use dwelling on second best.
On defence, a neutral observer would have thought the squad had been involved in some kind of holiday blockbuster trade to bolster its blueline. The observer would have been correct in his observation but wrong in his rationale. The D did step up to previously unseen heights. Freight Train Laronde was a mountain of solidity and flawless execution at both ends of the rink. Shiny Shone Brightly, eager to add to his offensiveness, was often in on the play, just missing a few solid chances but capitalizing on others. His second goal was a thing of beauty. He rang the rubber biscuit off the interior upper middle post so hard that the ringing can still be heard in Butthole, Alaska. What a beauty!
The Gumby not only Gumbied, he meta-Gumbied by completing his first ever “Gumby Hat Trick”: a real goal, a questionable penalty and well-played unsportsmanlike misconduct. Bravo Sir Gumby, your pitiful life now has some meaning.
Between the pipes, the Marquis DeSave displayed his routine adequacy. He may have faced only one shot but he did get his glove on a bit of it before the puck trickled into his cage with all the energy of a drunken co-ed peeing her pants on New Year’s Day morning.
After the match, 20 good elbows braved the snow filled roads to be insulted by their favourite perky barmaid at the Terminal Tavren. Poppy Creeme greeted her Thursday night men with cold suds and a warm heart, always at the ready with a few bon mots and a gentle gibe to keep the conversation lively.
3 Steamwhistle, 2 Muskoka Cream Ale, 7 Guinness, 3 gallons of unfiltered water, and most-assuredly-not-the last retelling of the Gumby Hat Trick Caper were consumed.
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