Almost Unforgettable

Killer Strawberries    3    Turbo Beavers    9

Game Report

November 26, 2013

Record: 3-4-3

It would have been better if Butcher Brophey had not scraped the halls of Pete Palangio Arenas to find a replacement goalie nuts enough to suit up for the Strawbs, as the Zamboni completed its last swipe of the ice just prior to  the 11pm game time. At least, the team could have defaulted and gone home early rather than suffer a humiliating defeat. It might also have saved the Executive the time and effort required to defend the squad against incomprehensible accusations of dressing room impropriety.

After the game, everyone went home to bed. Nothing was consumed but the bitter taste of an old fashioned whoopin’.

Killer Strawberries at the Grey Cup

Freight Train and the Vice enjoy the Grey Cup on behalf of the Strawbs.

Mongeese (and Gazelles) Get Goosed

Killer Strawberries    4    Mongeese    1

Game Report

November 22, 2012

Record:    3-3-3

As the Zamboni finished its last swipe of the ice, the Strawbs were in a quandary...or perhaps they were facing a dilemma. In any event, with the absence of the Marquis DeSave who was washing jocks in Buttface, Alaska as part of his rehabilitation, the team was without a goalie. Up and down the fungus-filled halls of the venerable Pete Palangio Arenas they went, knocking on doors, begging for help. While the dressing room of the showering Gorgeous Gazelles, a visiting cheerleading and hockey squad from Malmo, Sweden, did not immediately relieve the Strawbs of their goaltending conundrum, it did result in a rather interesting post game get together at the Terminal Tavren. (more on this later).

Luckily, as the puck was about to drop, the Ice Martian located a goaltender willing to face the opposition despite the well-known weaknesses of the Strawbs defence (indiscriminate drinking, prolific swearing, unfair seducing, tobacco chewing etc.). The Strawbs scored early and the outcome was never in doubt. The Vice, fresh from three weddings and a funeral, had all the zip of a pubescent teenager in the throes of his first near-conquest. Unlike the results of that occasion, he scored on this one. Mayor Maynot claims he scored too but his recollection is doubtful, given his constant inhalation of the noxious fumes from the gobs of styling gel he thinks make him handsome.

Slickery, his skates sharpened for the first time in 2 years, was the epitome of something yet to be determined. MagBoy and Warrin’ Peace did something too, probably unrelated to hockey but still important nevertheless.

The defence was muskox-like, in the bad breath department. They had pep, vim and vigour and are to be congratulated on their efforts. Shiny Shone Brightly was the most creative playmaker on the ice. Butcher Brophey was back to his old ornery and delusional self, hooking a Mongoose so thoroughly under the armpit that the Mongoose’s forward motion caused the Butcher to cross the wake several times as he hitched a ride around the rink. It must also be mentioned that Sir Gawdawful Gumby showed everyone just why he was the third star of the game on March 10, 2004. With the score a very close 4-1 and the clock nearing expiry, our donkless hero sacrificed his body twice to preserve the near shutout for a goalie who, quite frankly, couldn’t have cared less. For his efforts, Gumby received a gigantic (his words) gash just above his left ankle and had to be transported to the Terminal Tavren under the close care of three nurses from the Malmo squad. Poor bugger.

Post game, the team joined the Gorgeous Gazelles at the Strawbs’ favourite watering hole. Bon mots and surreptitious knee squeezes were exchanged and the women drank the Strawbs under the table, as planned. Frivolity and merry-making ensued.

15 gallons of Snapps, 3 gallons of Aquavit, 2 bottles of Gameldansk  and some international bonhomie were consumed.

Strawbs Enjoy A Little TNA

Game Report

November 19, 2012

Killer Strawberries    3    TNA    1

Record: 2-3-2

With Freight Train Laronde, The Vice and The Marquis DeSave safely demoted to either the Nasty Cupcakes or the Buttface Bottomfeeders, the Strawbs cranked down their intensity to fondle a small victory against an enthusiastic squad of TNA advocates.

Not a single drop of sweat was wasted for the win. The press awarded only one Star of The Game, a third place nod to Shiny She Brightly whose fabulous pass to Slickery ensured 2 points for his underachieving team. For the rest, it was evening of sleepskating. Even the Butcher’s two trips to the Personality Box were half-hearted.

Most blamed the hockeytorial lethargy on the pre-game team meal served up by that underappreciated gastronome, Gawdawful Gumby at his summer palace on Mystery Bay. The victuals consisted of potato chips, Scotch and an unusual frozen puff pastry dessert prepared by the 4-Star chef himself. After the repast,tThe team limo was summoned to take the boys to the arena where they put on a masterful display of inertia.

After the game, the limo dropped off each player one by one. Nobody had the energy to make it to the Terminal Tavren for the normal post game debriefing. Yet, from all reports, everyone slept well.

Limper Than Mr. Hefner In the Morning

Game Report

November 15, 2012

Killer Strawberries    4    Scoregasms    4

Record:  1-3-2

Exit polls from last night’s hockey tussle between the Killer Strawberries and the Scoregasms were absolutely clear in their message: the game was crap.

Of course, there were moments of brilliance. Unfortunately said moments occurred in the parking lot and at the Terminal Tavren following the game. On ice, the performances were reminiscent of Mr. Hugh Hefner’s escapades at the last Strawbs Executive Christmas Party at Aloha Baby Compound in Oahu, where, without his ED medication, he attempted what should not have been attempted in polite company. Suffice it to say that Hugh retired empty handed.

Slickery MacMillan was positively snakebitten. He had at least 8 excellent shots from the slot and many others from the periphery. Only one found the back of the net. “Don’t tell my Dad” was all he could muster by way of apology.

Warrin’ Peace, recently returned from a visit to Betty Ford, whom he claims is his auntie, finally turned it up in the last 10 minutes to score a beauty on a breakaway. This doubled his goal output for the season. The rest of the team managed to torque it up to mediocre on the performance scale, except for the Marquis De Save.

The Marquis is right now on the bus to Buttface, Alaska, where he will undergo a series of psychological and physical tests to see whether or not he has been invaded by lazy, brain-impaired aliens. It is hoped by the Executive that his minimum two week stint with the Bottomfeeders  will re-energize him. In his absence, applauded by more than one team veteran (#3 and #4, among them),  the team is negotiating with the league to have alumnus extraordinaire, Jesse The Leak, owner of two Championship rings, come back to turn the sinking ship around. The Leak, according to the resume he has posted on Facebook, is game ready and leaner than Ashley Olsen on diuretics and Bulemiaprophen. His leadership and narcissism is perhaps something the team could truly use at this point in a very disappointing season.

Following the game, most of the squad reassembled at their favourite watering and storytelling hole to celebrate two matters of significant significance. The first matter was Freight Train 444’s fifty fifth shade of grey which officially hit at midnight. The second matter, of much greater importance, was the four jugs Freight Train was required to buy the team in the event of a the 4-4 tie,  pursuant to a rash and irrevocable promise  he made in 2006. What fabulous way to celebrate someone else’s birthday.

4 jugs of the most expensive ale on tap, 35 chicken parts lathered in chemical baths and the pleasure of demoting a slacker were consumed.

Socks Appeal

Game Report

November 8, 2012

Killer Strawberries  2                Barn Muckers  5

Record: 1-3-1

It was almost universally agreed upon by the two Barn Muckers fans who attended last night’s tussle between their team and the Killer Strawberries that the Strawbs’ new hockey socks were a lovely addition to the overall team outfit. “The colours were spectacular” gushed Muffy Black, a lifelong Barn Muckers puck bunny. “I really liked the way the red, green and white details flowed into an amorphous mass of unparralled sartorial pulchritude, accenting the lovely lower limbs of even the least handsome of their players...#4  I believe.” Mittens Basel-Johnson, another Muckers follower was not quite so effusive in her praise but did venture to say that “the new socks were pretty-ish but I’m afraid they looked a little too busy to me...a bit like something a meretricious woman of elastic morals might wear for an evening out across the tracks. Can I get pantyhose in that design?”

Unfortunately, the new socks were the only highlight in an otherwise dull outing by the Strawbs. The squad is off to its worst start in 15 years. According to a scathing press release sent out while the team was showering after the match, “The Executive will closely examine last night’s game tapes to help determine what actions need to be taken to ensure that the Killer Strawberries regain some semblance of their previous gloriousness. There has been far too much off-ice tom-foolery which, obviously, has translated into on-ice ineptitude. We thought that the gift of new Stevie Wonder/Madonna-designed socks might revitalize the players, something which the Hawthorne experiments of the 1930s seemed to suggest. Either we or Hawthorne or both were wrong on this one. Perhaps a couple of demotions to the Nasty Cupcakes are in order instead. Suggestions on who might benefit from a change of scenery have been pouring in from fans and team mates alike. Once Aloha Baby Compound Playdates, Pamela Anderson and Sophia Vergara, have been consulted, a decision in this matter will be forthcoming. No one is safe here except the Ice Marshall.”

After the game, a coterie of undaunted Strawbs reconvened at the Terminal Tavren to discuss fashion and other topics of urgent concern. Butcher Brophey was toasted on his 63^rd birthday and voted “Most Likely To Pull Up His New Socks If He Can Reach Them.”

2 Coors Light, 17 Guinness, 1 Granville Island Ale, 6 pounds of shaped poultry parts and a whole bunch of Movember fashion suggestions were consumed.

Wall-O-Berries

Killer Strawberries        1                    Rams    1

Game Report

November 5, 2012

Record 1-2-1

For the first 3 minutes of last night’s tussle between the veteran Killer Strawberries and its testomoronic opponents, the Rams, the Marquis DeSave had to deal with more rubber than a professional Las Vegas streetwalker on Bill Clinton Day. And like a good, high quality Trojan ribbed tickler, he stretched but did not break. His strong performance in nets allowed the Strawbs to effectuate its patented Wall-O-Berries defence until the team could regroup and finally apply pressure of its own at the other end of the rink.

The Rams scored first as the Butcher and his Corbelian neighbour from hell, the inimitable Gawdawful Gumby, roiled about in their own end chasing shadows and ejaculating the latest in swear words learned, no doubt, on their adventures through the sewers of the internet. Their insipid play continued for the whole of the match and almost cost the Strawbs a much needed point. Fortunately, the rest of the squad had come to play, unlike the bonesprockets from Corbeil who were content to wallow in the narcosis of mediocracy all night long. The Executive has ordered a Royal Commission to report on their futures.

Dr. Thug, showing increasing signs of decreasing mental acuity and fashion sense, showed up to the game with one hockey glove and one very nice black leather evening glove of the type worn by Prince Philip when he tours the Arctic. Neither glove was of an adult size. “Just cause the glove don’t fit, don’t mean I quit” he informed anyone who would listen. Needless to say, he did not score on the evening, attired as he was in ill fitting equipment.

The most impressive Strawb, non-sartorially speaking, was Slickery McMillan. He was a gad-about on the ice, skating harder and with more purpose than he has in years.  Although he did not score, he was awarded the game’s First Strawberry, a prize which has eluded him for much too long.

MagBoy, who showed up with three hockey gloves and a jug of something he called South of The Blueline, tied the game up with just over 10 minutes left to play. It was a gorgeous solo effort, reminiscent of the antics of another Strawb, not to be named, who was found in the throes of self-induced ecstasy at the back of Galaxy Theater #3 on August 10 of this year.

The rest of the Killer Strawberries were solid, playing excellent defense when necessary but not necessarily excellent defense. The forwards generated many scoring chances but were unable to convert the tie into a victory. Extra practice time has been ordered.

After the game, Gumby and the Butcher were verbally crucified, but in a fair way. Most of the Strawbs showered quickly and returned immediately to the bosoms of their heated homes. An intrepid foursome sped off to the Terminal Tavren to squeeze out fu from the last minutes of a long and rewarding day.

2 Guinness, 4 Hops and Gops and the satisfaction of a well earned tie were consumed.

Killer Strawberries 2012-2013

We were all present, so a photo was in order.

Meaningless Longitude

November 1st 2012 - Strawbs 4 other team 6 (me thinks)

Way way up near the geodetic true north saddened fans, some frozen solid, are seeking refuge in igloos and DC8 carcasses awaiting a match-up that will never happen. Fans say "Our compass is spinning and we just want to see this game."

It was reported early this week, by the Tidewater Times, that pending the signing of the Ice Marshal, the Nasty Cupcakes were scheduled to play their South Pole rivals, the Bonner Braves a team sponsored by The Rothera Research Station, Antarctica. The Braves are know for dominating hockey south of the equator but now they are directly aiming north, in Cupcake territory. 

Though try-outs went well IMW's agent placed heavy contractual conditions ultimately preventing the deal from going though.   Not all the details are known but a few conditions were leaked to the press.   First off, money was a big deal.  Cupcake management pays per goal, a clause that would bankrupt IM.  His agent reportedly demanded payment for fanned shots, ghost shots (where your stick never touches the puck), fake shots and asked that the clause be removed where a player is penalized for scoring on his own net.  Under this new amended contract the Ice Marshal stood to earn 4.2 million over 2.1 years.  

There was also uncertainty about the deal tweeted by the Ice Marshal himself....

"The deal is tricky but I'm worried about those south pole dancers calling me a Fairycake. I mean I'll lose it." 

IMW

The South Pole Bonner Braves, based out of Rothera, a commonwealth territory, tweeted this....

"What's a bloody Cupcake. "

BB

With the match-up cancelled, and IMW on his way back to southern-southern northern Ontario, there is no chance for those frozen fans to see their star shoot for millions.
Until the Cupcakes sign a player worthy of a north vs south Pole match-up fans and frozen puck bunnies can be found cold and sad at 90 degrees north latitude with a longitude that's meaningless.

In other news.....