Post by Old Bucks Admin on Nov 16, 2012 6:28:07 GMT -5
What a difference a hurricane makes. After a three-week layoff Old Bucks resumed the season but with a turnout that was completely atypical, marked by short benches and players we haven’t seen since last year. As for the former each team had nine skaters, the weakest turnout all year. As for the latter, Dave Major and Nick Swift were back, rested, refreshed and ripe for new exploits. Huck Fairman even showed, but only for warm-up. It was nice to hear he’s been upgraded to outpatient status after suffering a complete mental and physical collapse at the thought of Mitt Romney becoming president. But a few turns around the ice convinced him that his nerves were not strong enough to sustain the pressure of an actual game. We expect he’ll be game-ready by the time of Obama’s second inaugural.
With Old Bucks you always recognize a certain percentage in favor of the dealer and Week 8 was no different. Red had Mike Robbins, Jason Millen, Nick Swift and Dave Major while Blue lacked its standout players like Alex Cerbone and the Bassert boys. What players they had were adequate enough if you don’t mind a superabundance of silver-haired seniors and at least one Diaz that goes by the name Ferdinand. That being said, Jim Heffern got Blue on the board early, pouncing on a Larry Johnson-to-John Lupisella pass in the Red zone that gave him unimpeded access to Marty and an open corner for the 1-0 lead. Mike Robbins responded, sending Kenny G. a rubber messenger to the effect that “this is not your lucky night” on a wrist shot that was so deceptive it never left the ice. Next Brian Urban top-shelfed Marty and did it emphatically, contrary to his custom of scoring on Dad in the gentlest way possible. Whereupon Larry Johnson, motoring up ice in a gear we never thought he had, received a sweet dish from Mike Robbins and knotted the game at two’s. Incidentally, the new score keeping system was still in effect, although with the bucket of pucks on the Red bench this time. This proved a change for the worse as Red was even ditzier than Blue when it came time to throw out a new puck. So often the rink rang with shouts of “Throw out a new puck!” that it was positively irritating, especially when Red confused a nice save with a goal and put two pucks on the ice, which they did several times. In short, the jury is still out on this one and when it will reconvene is anyone’s guess.
Following a Nick Swift goal that put Red up 3-2, Jim Heffern got two more—a tip on a Fred Diaz slapshot and a breakaway backhand, burning Marty with a loud grunt reminiscent of Monica Seles smoking a down-the-line shot against Stefi Graf. On this note Blue reached the apex of its game and it was all down hill from there. Instrumental in Red’s onslaught was Larry Johnson who matched Jim Heffern with his own hat trick, the difference being his was decisive and Jim’s irrelevant. Combine that with goals by Eddie, Jason Millen and one more by Mike Robbins and Red coasted to victory with Blue barely able to muster another Brian Urban goal the rest of the game. Blue consoled itself with the thought that “at least Jonathan Millen didn’t score”—and vowed that the next time there’s a three-week layoff because of a hurricane they’ll return to the rink better prepared.
The club repaired to TJ’s like Roman gladiators leaving the Coliseum for some seedy district down by the Tiber to indulge their appetites for artichokes and wine. On the eve of Veterans Day, more than the usual handful showed with federal employees like Marty and Eddie predicating their attendance on whether they have to work the next day. The Millens were there too and even treated the gathering to a pepperoni pizza (nice gesture that). Mike Robbins brought a Groelsch bottle of homemade pumpkin liqueur that was served in little tumblers with little dashes of milk and imbibed with tremendous relish by all and sundry. Rich Devlin showed pictures on his iPhone of the cleanup at his shore house, one of which showed Larry Johnson zipped up in a white Tyvek suit. Larry had responded to Rich’s distress e-mail, stand up guy that he is, which probably explains the halo-like luminescence that hovered about his head during the game. But the afterparty’s highlight was a phone call Rich put through to Saunders, coincidentally catching him on his birthday, where he was being wined and dined on the Pennsey side of Lambertville at a place called Taste Buds which, we learned, passes for haute cuisine by those New Hopey Mike Robbins types. The phone was on speaker and because of the loud traffic noise we couldn’t catch who was the lady friend wining and dining him except that it sounded like a mall bunny he met at TJ Maxx. He did say Tim White recently stopped in Joe Canal’s and bought “a lot of really good beer”. But there was no word on when Saunders expects to return to the ice. We can only hope.
With Old Bucks you always recognize a certain percentage in favor of the dealer and Week 8 was no different. Red had Mike Robbins, Jason Millen, Nick Swift and Dave Major while Blue lacked its standout players like Alex Cerbone and the Bassert boys. What players they had were adequate enough if you don’t mind a superabundance of silver-haired seniors and at least one Diaz that goes by the name Ferdinand. That being said, Jim Heffern got Blue on the board early, pouncing on a Larry Johnson-to-John Lupisella pass in the Red zone that gave him unimpeded access to Marty and an open corner for the 1-0 lead. Mike Robbins responded, sending Kenny G. a rubber messenger to the effect that “this is not your lucky night” on a wrist shot that was so deceptive it never left the ice. Next Brian Urban top-shelfed Marty and did it emphatically, contrary to his custom of scoring on Dad in the gentlest way possible. Whereupon Larry Johnson, motoring up ice in a gear we never thought he had, received a sweet dish from Mike Robbins and knotted the game at two’s. Incidentally, the new score keeping system was still in effect, although with the bucket of pucks on the Red bench this time. This proved a change for the worse as Red was even ditzier than Blue when it came time to throw out a new puck. So often the rink rang with shouts of “Throw out a new puck!” that it was positively irritating, especially when Red confused a nice save with a goal and put two pucks on the ice, which they did several times. In short, the jury is still out on this one and when it will reconvene is anyone’s guess.
Following a Nick Swift goal that put Red up 3-2, Jim Heffern got two more—a tip on a Fred Diaz slapshot and a breakaway backhand, burning Marty with a loud grunt reminiscent of Monica Seles smoking a down-the-line shot against Stefi Graf. On this note Blue reached the apex of its game and it was all down hill from there. Instrumental in Red’s onslaught was Larry Johnson who matched Jim Heffern with his own hat trick, the difference being his was decisive and Jim’s irrelevant. Combine that with goals by Eddie, Jason Millen and one more by Mike Robbins and Red coasted to victory with Blue barely able to muster another Brian Urban goal the rest of the game. Blue consoled itself with the thought that “at least Jonathan Millen didn’t score”—and vowed that the next time there’s a three-week layoff because of a hurricane they’ll return to the rink better prepared.
The club repaired to TJ’s like Roman gladiators leaving the Coliseum for some seedy district down by the Tiber to indulge their appetites for artichokes and wine. On the eve of Veterans Day, more than the usual handful showed with federal employees like Marty and Eddie predicating their attendance on whether they have to work the next day. The Millens were there too and even treated the gathering to a pepperoni pizza (nice gesture that). Mike Robbins brought a Groelsch bottle of homemade pumpkin liqueur that was served in little tumblers with little dashes of milk and imbibed with tremendous relish by all and sundry. Rich Devlin showed pictures on his iPhone of the cleanup at his shore house, one of which showed Larry Johnson zipped up in a white Tyvek suit. Larry had responded to Rich’s distress e-mail, stand up guy that he is, which probably explains the halo-like luminescence that hovered about his head during the game. But the afterparty’s highlight was a phone call Rich put through to Saunders, coincidentally catching him on his birthday, where he was being wined and dined on the Pennsey side of Lambertville at a place called Taste Buds which, we learned, passes for haute cuisine by those New Hopey Mike Robbins types. The phone was on speaker and because of the loud traffic noise we couldn’t catch who was the lady friend wining and dining him except that it sounded like a mall bunny he met at TJ Maxx. He did say Tim White recently stopped in Joe Canal’s and bought “a lot of really good beer”. But there was no word on when Saunders expects to return to the ice. We can only hope.