Slow Start, Strong Finish

Killer Strawberries           4              Mighty Ducks     1

Game Report

February 2, 2012

Record: 11-3-2

For the third game in a row, the hapless Strawbs’ defence corps (corpse?) put another marker behind their own goaltender. This time, it was within 5 minutes of the opening whistle which quickly put the team behind 1-0. The Marquis was apoplectic and refused to return to his cage until Shiny Shone Brightly made a public apology for yet another of his regular faux pas.

For the rest of the period, our goalie was on high alert for traitors in his midst. The squad has never seen such concentration on his part. The Strawbs were pretty much impotent for what was left of the initial frame. Only the Ice Marshal showed any signs of handsomeness, virility and life as he tallied his 37^th goal in 15 games to draw the score to even.

In the second frame, the team really went to work but were stymied repeatedly by a hot goaltender, something that has been lacking in their own end for quite a few weeks. Shot after shot was rung of the Ducks’ pipeman or the iron as he did a remarkable imitation of Patrick Roy in his prime. The Strawbs, tenacious and hungry, kept up the pressure and were rewarded with 3 more goals to finish off a 4-1 victory.

The Vice finally returned to the fold after a recuperation absence of about 3 weeks. He had so much extra padding on top of his already expanding idle bulk that he looked like the Michelin Man before the Man went on a diet.

In this workmanlike victory, two other performances stood out. Lil Wagner continued his incomprehensible fascination with ringing the biscuit off the end glass. He had 22 shots on the night and the only time he laid one on net, he scored. He claims he has been trying to be too fine in his picking of corners. Gumby had to tell him there are no corners on the back glass. This was quite a perspicacious observation from a self-styled defenceman, who, having just purchased his first new stick since 1996, wanted to christen it with a goal. In order to accomplish his impossible task, the Gumbster repeatedly abandoned his defensive post to place himself in rebound position in front of the opposition’s net: to no avail. After failing time after time, he would grumpily saunter back towards the center line where his defensive prowess is always at its maximum. Result: 0 goals, 0 assists, 0 contribution. It was suggested he go back to old stick. At least that way, he would spend a little more time defending his own end rather than embarking upon his quixotic vision of becoming a goal scorer.

After the game, nobody went out to the Terminal Tavren, given the lateness of the hour and what was perceived to be too little time to properly quaff post-match ales, lagers and poultry parts. The team plans to make up for its unusual abstinence after the next game.

Clouds Over Sunnivale

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.

Strawbs in Action or the Ice Marshal Still Plays with a Stick Too Short

Strawbs Penalty Shot

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.

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.

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.

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.

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New Math, KS style

Interesting

The Strawbs went from a 5-1-1 record to a 7-1-1 record in only 1 game.

Gotta love the game reports!

Dash Does It

Killer Strawberries 6 Canadian Legends 8

Game Report
December 5, 2011

Record 7-2-2

Finally, after 11 games, Dash Flashinger, the Strawbs’ rookie and beer provider, found the back of the opposition’s net with more than the seat of his pants. It wasn’t a pretty goal, but the best ones never are.

Playing on line with Mayor Maynot, the king of how-dee-doo, and Lil Wagner, whose last pass to a team mate occurred sometime in late October, Dash positioned himself perfectly in front of the Legends’ net. Shiny Shone Brightly let go a tremendous wrister from the blueline and the puck screamed its way to its intermediate destination…the back of Dash’s helmet. The puck quickly changed direction and squirted through the goalie’s legs into the yawning abyss within. The puck was ceremoniously retrieved by an alert Zebra who pocketed it for sale on EBay. Oughta fetch quite a handsome sum.

The game saw the return of Pyjama Man who was escorted to the rink by the lovely Loans Jones. Apparently it was some kind of anniversary and PJM had promised her a nice dinner after the match. And what a dinner I was. The staff at the Terminal Tavren had set up a nice quiet table by the men’s washroom complete with candles and matching table cloth. This was an anniversary Ms. Jones is bound never to forget.

Ms. Jones was not the only fan in attendance. MagGirl, first wife of MagBoy and mother of MagTot, showed up in her best squirrel jacket and puffy boots. The word “glamour” does not begin to describe her sartorial splendour. She could be heard as far away as the Strawbs’ bench, exhorting her man to go “faster, faster, faster.” The line seemed well rehearsed.

Dr. Thug was back and scored a loud marker. Freight Train 444 was relegated to defence where he outshone the Vice (groin injury, elbow injury) and P. Gumbington Pettigrew III (groin, brain and ego injuries). The Ice Marshal wept at the ineptitude.

Post game, the boys and fans raced to the Terminal Tavren to take advantage of any seniors discounts available before 10pm. They were too late, as seniors’ Happy Hour ended at 4pm so that those seniors could get home to bed at a decent hour.

3 Steamwhistle, I gin and tonic, 1 cranteeny, 4 Muskoka Cream, 7 Bud, 6 jugs of water, various pressed-protein delights and the warm memory of Dash’s lost strawberry were consumed.

A New Low

Killer Strawberries 1 Battalion 1

Game Report

November 30, 2011


Record 7-1-2

This game was so indescribably dull that the new paint in the lobby of the Pete Palangio Arenas refused to dry for the benefit of those fans who could not stomach watching the horror show unfolding on ice pad #1.

Pyjama Man must have known a stinker was in the forecast and, consequently, did not bother to show up for the match. And, although he was somewhat present, Sir Gawdawful Gumby, did not bother to show up either. He must have bathed in some kind of super-soporific before gracing the ice complex with a complex of his own.

Gawd was, in the words of a long time Strawbs’ fan, an abomination wrapped in a disgrace. This reporter believes he caught a glimpse of Gawd’s not-so-distant-dotage in which our anti-hero will be shuffling, single-socked and diaper-filled, about his third rate nursing home in search of the remains of his mind.

Not only was he counter-effective on the evening, he and his defence partner, whose own performance lacked more than a smidgeon of je ne sais quoi, took shifts so long that they had to shave each time they returned to the bench. There is gumbying, which is occasionally forgivable, and uber-gumbying, which is never so.

Dash Flashinger continued his frustration, missing frequent opportunities to score his first goal of the year. The Ice Marshal is considering elevating him to a position on his opposite wing in order to help him break out of his scoring virginity. “The kid has ability” stated the team’s handsomest man. “He just needs to move his hero-worship from Uber Gumby to someone, anyone, more appropriate.”

Between the pipes, The Marquis DeSad, finally had a good game, more or less.
After the game, those who played well reconvened at the Terminal Tavren to discuss potential moves before the upcoming trade deadline. But as someone noted” We ain’t gonna get anything for him anyway.”

4 Steamwhistle, 6 Muskoka Cream, 1 Bud, 2 Granville, 5 lbs of chicken scrotums and a lot of head shaking were consumed.

A New Low

Strawbs Pant To Victory

Game Report

November 24, 2011

Killer Strawberries 8 MNB 4

Record: 7-1-1

Once again, in typical Strawberry fashion, the KS Hockey and Gentlemen’s Club powered its way to victory over a stunned agglomeration of exuberant acne-infested youth who call themselves MNB. It was a good victory and the Strawbs left the ice content: not necessarily because of the win but more because they could hear the MNBers mumbling such niceties as “how did we just get beat by those crusty old farts?” and “if they didn’t have those young guys, we woulda killed them”.

Of course, the start to the evening was, as usual, a comedy of errors. First, Freight Train Laronde, a hulking mass of gentle menace, forgot his hockey pants at home. The team’s trainer advised him he could just let his hockey sweater slide down to his knees but he was reluctant to do so: reluctant because, as the Esquire Man of The Year In Amateur Hockey, he has his sartorial reputation to uphold. So off he skittered to various dressing rooms, dressed simply yet elegantly in his jock and runners, asking strangers to help him out. Once security was advised that his hockey pants were missing, he was able to continue his quest, in the company of said security.

Freight Train did manage to borrow some gear from a visiting Lilliputian and returned triumphant to the dressing room. Unfortunately, the hockey drawers were 15 sizes too small for him. A game of musical pants ensued with Mayor Maynot taking the Lilliputian’s pants, then giving his pants to the Butcher who, in turn gave his sorry excuse for pantaloons to Freight Train. The pants on all three were so tight you could tell at a glance that none of them was Jewish.

Needless to say, our trio of fashion plates had more than some difficulty skating. It was like watching a toddler move about the living room in an odiferous diaper best left handled with elbow length gloves.

As to the rest of the game, this reporter must confess that he did not notice much else, having spent most the evening curled over with fits of laughter. He did notice that the Strawbs’ goalie, the Marquis DeSave, finally ramped up his game to “questionable”, an improvement over “crappy”, “disappointing” and “abominable” which adjectives accurately characterize his 3 previous outings. Perhaps it was the threat of demotion to the Butthole Bottomfeeders, or worse, to the Nasty Cupcakes, which was impetus for his “improved” play.

After the match, the squad holed up at the Terminal Tavren to bask in the glory of another victory; pants off to the Strawbs, this year’s team of destiny.

5 Steamwhistle, 4 Granville, 2 Muskoka Cream, 7 Bud Light, 5 lbs of chicken parts and stories of missing pants, pre and post marriage, were consumed.

What An Effort

Killer Strawberries 8 Mighty Ducks 4

Game Report

November 17, 2011

Record 5-1-1


It didn't look like much and it wasn't.

23 double lite beer and a no foam, low fat latte were consumed

A Close Shave

Strawbs 5 Turbo Beavers 4

Game Report
November 14, 2011

Record 4-1-1


It may not be Christmas yet, but the Strawbs almost handed an early gift to a team it dominated for 36 of the 40 minutes of game time. At the 16:33 mark of the last period, the Killer Strawberries were leading 5-1. Dr. Thug was having a marvelous game, having scored 2 beauties and lusting after a third. His whoops could be heard in hell each time he slammed the biscuit between the opposition’s pipes.

Freight tain Laronde continued his torrid scoring pace (for him), notching one marker and barely missing on 2 other drives to the lower left corner on the T.Beavers' net. He hasn’t shot this hard since he was in the back seat of his Dad’s Chrysler Imperial following his high school prom.

The D were uncharacteristically effective. The forwards were seen many times glancing to the right to see if they were on the proper bench.

At 16;34, the excrement started to hit the air distribution device. Penalty trouble. Lacksadaisical face off taking. Brain breaks and goalie confusion began their proliferation. The Strawbs barely held on; yet, they put another tick into the win column. It may not have been pretty, but it sure was ugly.

After the match, the squad zipped over to the Terminal Tavren to reacast recent history into a more favourable light. It must be reported that they were more successful in this endeavour than was warranted earlier at Pete Palangio Arenas.

2 Granville, 4 Muskoka Cream, 20 Bud LIght, 4 Steamwhistle, 6 pounds of pulverized poultry and the after-effects of a close shave were consumed.

Rollin' On

Killer Strawberries 2 Casey’s Chiefs 0

Game Report

November 10, 2011

Record 3-1-1

Finally, after the testing the virtually limitless patience of the Killer Strawberries’ Executive, the Marquis DeSave, who, as of late, has been rustier than Gumby’s boudoir techniques, put in an adequate performance which resulted in a shutout. Unfortunately, his performance infused him with a little too much cockiness…cockiness bordering on effrontery.

In the dressing room following the match, while recalling his on-ice performance in terms which seemed to abuse too many superlatives, the Marquis tried to give some credit to the defensive skills of his team mates. “All the other guys in the league keep telling me that for a team full of shitty old players, we sure win a lot of games” he exclaimed enthusiastically. He was forced to clarify his remark after being towel smacked in the jewels by the team’s elder statesmen.

Despite the impression of the goalie’s ill-chosen words, which words could negatively influence a neophyte unfamiliar with Strawberry history, the team played very well. The defence was cohesive, the Vice didn’t stumble once on his new blades. The Butcher showed startling hand to eye coordination, Gumby gumbied and Shiny shone brightly. Pyjama Man had his best game of the year (the bar was low), probably due to the fact that his main squeeze, the pulchritudinous Miss Loans Jones, was swooning for him in the stands.

Dash Rip Roarin’ extended his shifts to 18 seconds on average, MagBoy repeatedly broke the sound barrier, Mayor Maynot and Lil Wagner played well with each other (on and off the ice) and the Ice Marshal was his magisterial self as he strutted about the frozen pond. Only the refereeing of a small dwarfish egomaniac put any tarnish on the game.

After the match, a coterie of thirsty birds reconvened at the Terminal Tavren to defend themselves against the inevitable taunts expected at every post game session. The gibes were warm and the beer was cold, marking another successful Strawbs’ outing.

5 Granville, 3 Stella, 1 Guinness, 2 Muskoka Cream and some very, very frosty Offside Pale Ale were consumed with relish.

A Dash of Dishwater

Killer Strawberries 6 Drunken Moose 3

Game Report
November 3, 2011

Record 2-1-1

Last night’s 6-3 victory over the Drunken Moose was remarkable for a few reasons. Firstly, it was rife with excellent examples of how to move the puck out of the defensive zone, through the middle, without giving the goalie a heart attack. It is sincerely hoped that Sir Gawdawful Gumby, the Butcher’s new chauffeur, was taking notes.

Secondly, the game showed that it is possible for two brothers to suck badly in the same outing. The Marquis DeSave had better elevate his game soon or he may find himself driving the dog sled powered “bus” for the Strawbs’ farm team’s farm team, the Nasty Cupcakes, a squad notorious for the 3 B’s of Alaskan hockey: brawlin’, beerin’ and buggerin'. The Marquis’ 1/3 brother, Lil Wagner, played with all the nonchalance and ersatz swagger of a baloney sandwich. The Executive suggests he read carefully the fine print of his agreement with the Killer Strawberries Hockey and Gentlemen’s Club to ascertain his options in the light of his two-way contract.

Lastly, the whole shooting match was broadcast live to the team’s HQ at Aloha Baby Compound in Oahu where it was closely watched by the club’s top brass and by the squad’s Advisor Emeritus, the lovely and talented Miss White Go Go Boots. Miss WGGB was in town running a hands-on pole dancing seminar for local girls who have been admitted to the Killer Strawberries Benevolent Finishing School for Wayward Waifs. The team applauds Miss WGGB ‘s unwavering commitment to charitable causes. (next month’s seminar, “Using What Gawd Gave Ya To Make Your Man Happy” is already oversubscribed.)

As for the rest of the game itself, the excitement meter barely registered above “dull as a Vice’s lecture”. Speaking of the Vice, he continued to play valiantly on one elbow,(his good one?) while protecting his other one using advanced Butcher Brophey Repelling Techniques TM.

PJ Man played like his jock was put on wrong, which it was. How you can do something like this is anyone's guess.

R. Chee Bald kept surprising his rotational replacement with unorthodox shifts which consisted in nothing more than going out the forwards’ door, puffing his way to the defencemen’s end of the bench and begging to be let in lest his lungs collapse. In honour of his grit, the Executive has altered his moniker to Dash.

After the match, a prayer meeting was held at the Terminal Tavern. The sacraments of beer and poultry parts were administered with gusto. Someone also reported seeing Baby Cheeses through the kitchen doors.

4 Granville, 2 Muskoka Cream, 2 Guinness, 1 Bud ,2 Stella and 4 pounds of chicken pressed into the form of hockey pucks were consumed.

Late Game Blues

Killer Strawberries 5 Sunnyvale Chargers 5

Game Report-Oct 31, 2011

Record 1-1-1


The Marquis DeSave, fresh from a tropical sojourn in Labrador City, started his first game of the year against a determined squad of Sunnyvale Chargers. To say that he was a little rusty would be like saying that the recent tsunami in Japan was a little wettish. The Marquis struggled with the puck all evening, causing the Strawbs to think it was MagBoy tending the pipes. The Executive is greatly concerned and has been in communication with the ButtFace Bottomfeeders to see if Jesse The Leak might be available on short notice.

Fortunately, it was not the entire Wagner clan who was less than stellar on the evening. Lil’ Wagner continued his torrid scoring pace, notching at least one marker on the evening and setting up 2 others, according to his own recollection of events.

Dr. Felonious Thug crawled out of the woodwork to join the team for his inaugural outing. Apparently, his summer of decadence has leached into his Fall play. He was out breath after tying his skates and was positively asthmatic on the ice. He was sucking for air so hard after each shift, that he almost vacuumed up 3 pucks from the floor of the players’ bench, which, luckily, got stuck on the outside of his cage before they could disappear down his wind pipe.

Gawd continued to attempt the perfection of his "up-the-middle-in-his-own-end” pass without success. Maybe it's time to try the boards. Shiny was impressive in joining the rush, which resulted in numerous excellent scoring opportunities. The Vice was flabby and elbow-challenged. The Butcher was finally on time for a game start but his performance never again reached such heights. Freight Train 444, fresh from knee surgery or something like that, might have scored a goal but, in any event, was certainly a massive presence in the offensive end. Magboy was more than adequate at centre, a position as unfamiliar to him as right wing, left wing or anywhere else on the ice. Mayor Maynot was full of sound and fury, and should have contributed a lot more than he did, given the extensive ice time awarded to him by the coaching staff. Rookie and new team treasurer, R. Chee Bald needs to get his skates sharpened. The Ice Marshal was the game’s first star as chosen by the women in the crowd.

Due to the lateness of the game (11 f*ing pm!!), only a few Strawbs ventured out to the Terminal Tavren. This writer could not make it, as he had to be up by 4am to knit winter mitts for incubator babies in Romania. It has, however, leaked back to him that 2 glasses of ginger ale and a Car Bomb were consumed.