Post by Old Bucks Admin on Nov 17, 2011 6:03:44 GMT -5
Week 9 began on a humorous note. With Red leading 1-0, and Jim Heffern late as usual, the latter achieved Old Bucks blooper immortality by taking the ice still wearing his skate guards—and promptly fell on his ass. The benches, rather than biting their lips to keep from laughing, howled with undisguised mirth. It was the perfect “ice breaker” for what was otherwise a tension-filled opening, and one that should live in the club’s collective memory, if not for years, at least until something funnier comes along. But the odds of that happening are about the same as Rich Devlin getting a sponsor’s exemption to the Master’s.
Brian Urban got Blue on the board, beating Marty for the score and tying the game at ones. It was a sharp, veteran play and inspired additional goals by the Bassert brothers, Dave and Andrew, who were back on Blue—sans dad. Soon Blue had a 5-1 lead, casting doubt on Kenny’s strategy of stacking Red with all the older, more experienced players while hoping Blue would become bogged down with youth, speed, and agility. Finally Jim Heffern, out to prove he wasn’t a total klutz, got two quick goals and put Red back in contention, 5-3. But defensive miscues by Eddie and Nick Swift led to goals from Alex Cerbone and Dave Bassert and Blue pulled away again, 7-3. For Marty it was bad enough getting pounded—he’s used to that; but when Eddie and Nick refused to show either guilt, embarrassment or remorse, he got really mad.
Jonathan Millen scored twice for Red, but the Basserts countered with two goals of their own. By now Blue saw the siblings as a kind of powder keg and resolved to spend the rest of the game showering them with sparks. With Blue up 9-5 a key play happened, one that might even exceed Jim Heffern’s pratfall in hilarity and get Rich to Augusta after all. This is what happened: Red was on the attack; Mike Robbins controlled the puck and got behind the Blue goal, drawing both defensemen to him and allowing John Lupisella unimpeded access to the front of the net. Mike skimmed a perfect pass to John’s stick and John unloaded one, blasting the puck (unintentionally) into the middle of Kenny G.’s jock strap, almost splitting the plastic cup in two (we saw it after the game). From there the puck deflected off the crossbar and into the goal. Red’s joy was tempered, however, by the sight of Kenny writhing on the ice in pain. He was a good two or three minutes getting up and was able to play on; thankfully the cracked cup saved him from more serious injury. But for the rest of the game he seemed to suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder and was not the same.
Red pressed their advantage. Two quick goals by Mike Robbins got them to within one, 9-8. Now the whole Red hive was roused to a frenzy of action. Humorously, in the midst of this frenzy, Larry Johnson came streaking by the Red bench yelling in his thick, Boston brogue “We’re missin’ ah wingah! We’re missin’ ah wingah!” Larry had only counted four red jerseys on the ice, neglecting to include Huck Fairman who wears this saffron-colored thing as a nostalgic throwback to his days as a monk with the Hare Krishna. But Red smiles were soon extinguished as Steve Souza ripped one from the point that got deflected past Marty, putting Blue up 10-8. The ice became an absolute tempest of shots, scores, and dirty hits. Magically on cue, Red rattled off three more goals (by Eddie, Nick Swift and Larry Johnson) to take the lead, 11-10 with minutes remaining. The Blue bust was now tottering on its plinth, threatening to fall to the ice and shatter like Kenny’s cup. Only a last-ditch goal by Andrew Bassert tied the game at elevens and saved Blue from utter humiliation.
For the record, after the game Dave Bassert was adamant that, by his reckoning, Blue had won outright, 12-10. Obviously he was unaware of the rule that you have to be at least thirty years old and two years in the club before you can even speak in the locker room, much less dispute the final score of the game. But as it was his first offense, he got off with a stern reprimand.
Brian Urban got Blue on the board, beating Marty for the score and tying the game at ones. It was a sharp, veteran play and inspired additional goals by the Bassert brothers, Dave and Andrew, who were back on Blue—sans dad. Soon Blue had a 5-1 lead, casting doubt on Kenny’s strategy of stacking Red with all the older, more experienced players while hoping Blue would become bogged down with youth, speed, and agility. Finally Jim Heffern, out to prove he wasn’t a total klutz, got two quick goals and put Red back in contention, 5-3. But defensive miscues by Eddie and Nick Swift led to goals from Alex Cerbone and Dave Bassert and Blue pulled away again, 7-3. For Marty it was bad enough getting pounded—he’s used to that; but when Eddie and Nick refused to show either guilt, embarrassment or remorse, he got really mad.
Jonathan Millen scored twice for Red, but the Basserts countered with two goals of their own. By now Blue saw the siblings as a kind of powder keg and resolved to spend the rest of the game showering them with sparks. With Blue up 9-5 a key play happened, one that might even exceed Jim Heffern’s pratfall in hilarity and get Rich to Augusta after all. This is what happened: Red was on the attack; Mike Robbins controlled the puck and got behind the Blue goal, drawing both defensemen to him and allowing John Lupisella unimpeded access to the front of the net. Mike skimmed a perfect pass to John’s stick and John unloaded one, blasting the puck (unintentionally) into the middle of Kenny G.’s jock strap, almost splitting the plastic cup in two (we saw it after the game). From there the puck deflected off the crossbar and into the goal. Red’s joy was tempered, however, by the sight of Kenny writhing on the ice in pain. He was a good two or three minutes getting up and was able to play on; thankfully the cracked cup saved him from more serious injury. But for the rest of the game he seemed to suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder and was not the same.
Red pressed their advantage. Two quick goals by Mike Robbins got them to within one, 9-8. Now the whole Red hive was roused to a frenzy of action. Humorously, in the midst of this frenzy, Larry Johnson came streaking by the Red bench yelling in his thick, Boston brogue “We’re missin’ ah wingah! We’re missin’ ah wingah!” Larry had only counted four red jerseys on the ice, neglecting to include Huck Fairman who wears this saffron-colored thing as a nostalgic throwback to his days as a monk with the Hare Krishna. But Red smiles were soon extinguished as Steve Souza ripped one from the point that got deflected past Marty, putting Blue up 10-8. The ice became an absolute tempest of shots, scores, and dirty hits. Magically on cue, Red rattled off three more goals (by Eddie, Nick Swift and Larry Johnson) to take the lead, 11-10 with minutes remaining. The Blue bust was now tottering on its plinth, threatening to fall to the ice and shatter like Kenny’s cup. Only a last-ditch goal by Andrew Bassert tied the game at elevens and saved Blue from utter humiliation.
For the record, after the game Dave Bassert was adamant that, by his reckoning, Blue had won outright, 12-10. Obviously he was unaware of the rule that you have to be at least thirty years old and two years in the club before you can even speak in the locker room, much less dispute the final score of the game. But as it was his first offense, he got off with a stern reprimand.