Post by Jim H. on Mar 20, 2015 19:17:52 GMT -5
We skipped Week 27, along with most of the club, and heard benches were so short the play was four-on-four. “I almost hacked up a lung,” Matt Hunt told us in the locker room for Week 28, the image of expectorating one’s entire pulmonary organ attesting to the strain of four-on-four hockey on the typical Old Bucks constitution. In keeping with spring fever, turnout was low for Week 28 but relative to Week 27 it was an MLK day eve extravaganza. Kenny, exercising his privilege of picking teams, completely gutted Blue, the only way he knows how to inculcate the duty of passive obedience. First, the mainstay of Blue’s offense, Brian Urban, played goalie for Red. Then Kenny solicited—and obtained—the services of Mark Timmons, plying him with the kind of flattery that dissolved the last vestige of mercenary allegiance Mark felt toward Blue and giving Red’s offense the quick-strike capabilities its otherwise superannuated players lacked. Finally Kenny let bygones be bygones and recalled Bob Freiling from banishment, exile, disownment (if that’s even a word); although with forgiveness not being Kenny’s most conspicuous virtue we’re inclined to ascribe the move to an absent-Doctor-Millen-induced panic. That Bobby’s swelled head still fit into its helmet was a miracle, but he took to the ice determined to do his bit on behalf of his old team. Finally we’d be remiss if we didn’t mention Larry Johnson came back, skating with Red; we saw him in the locker room before the game, we saw him at the after party; apparently he played too but he somehow escaped our notice during the game and we apologize if we missed anything meaningful he did. He did say his new job in Massachusetts is going “extremely well” and for that we are gratified.
Deprived of its best players, Blue acquiesced in silence, going from “can do” to “make do”. The game began; it was quickly knotted at ones, but just as quickly the score was not so much “untied” as “cut asunder”. First Eddie, as impetuous as he is sneaky, pinched from the point and scored on a deflection. Then John Lupisella made a nice dish to Mark Timmons who came down from the blue line magically on cue to thread the puck between Kenny G.’s pads and score. Next Brian Pike gloved down a cross ice pass and teed it up, uncorking a snapshot that Mark Timmons tipped in with his stick at shoulder-height. “That’s lucky, but you have to be good to be lucky,” quoth Paul Egan. Even with the score 4-1 Red maintained the pressure, its posture as destitute of pity as it was devoid of honor. Tim White score; Brian Pike scored; Bob Freiling scored on a breakaway; at 7-1 Kenny G., the Blue net minder, went from feelin’ his oats to feelin’ his age and found much to deplore in his defense, or lack thereof. The Blue offense fared no better. First, its youngest player, Matt Hunt, bowed out after only three shifts, succumbing to flu-like symptoms he had felt before the game. Blue still had Andrew Bassert for speed and derring-do but then there was a steep drop-off after that, right down to the Three Inseparables: Paul Egan, Rich Devlin and Jim Heffern. Paul, for one, had a knee injury which further enfeebled his already feeble self. The good news is he’ll be skiing in Breck all next week so he’ll have plenty of time to recuperate—or make it worse. Then there was Rich Devlin who if his golf playing alter ego had displayed the same lack of drive and determination on the links as he, himself, did on the ice he would have been penalized for slow play. Finally there was Jim Heffern who seemed bent on reprising the one time in 14 years he’s scored on a slapshot, only to have the puck come off his stick like a slow, fluttering duck and gently nestle in Brian’s glove not once, twice, but four times until Rich Devlin finally chided him to “Stop.” Blue, in fact, was so desperate for offense it started to steal glances in the direction of Bob Freiling, its eyes practically imploring him to ditch Red, throw on his Scouts jersey, score a quick eight goals and lead them to victory. But Bob stayed put, his sense of loyalty growing each time Tim White condescended to pass him the puck until his fidelity was as inviolable as the day Kenny conferred upon him the Old Bucks Award and elevated him to the rank of the Immortals. He even continued to score, bagging a cheapie in the crease by interposing his stick between Kenny G. and Rich Devlin while they argued over whether the puck should be smothered or cleared. It was the ideal night for Red to dominate. The Princeton Tiger Lilies were playing next and they took an almost voyeuristic fascination in watching the game, as if they saw in Red kindred spirits, perhaps, as long as we're mixing metaphors, honoring them with the sobriquet: "Leonine Primroses". The after party was a hoot; out of 21 skaters, 15 repaired to TJ’s, as good a ratio of skaters to attendees as you’ll ever see. Four pies were consumed.
Deprived of its best players, Blue acquiesced in silence, going from “can do” to “make do”. The game began; it was quickly knotted at ones, but just as quickly the score was not so much “untied” as “cut asunder”. First Eddie, as impetuous as he is sneaky, pinched from the point and scored on a deflection. Then John Lupisella made a nice dish to Mark Timmons who came down from the blue line magically on cue to thread the puck between Kenny G.’s pads and score. Next Brian Pike gloved down a cross ice pass and teed it up, uncorking a snapshot that Mark Timmons tipped in with his stick at shoulder-height. “That’s lucky, but you have to be good to be lucky,” quoth Paul Egan. Even with the score 4-1 Red maintained the pressure, its posture as destitute of pity as it was devoid of honor. Tim White score; Brian Pike scored; Bob Freiling scored on a breakaway; at 7-1 Kenny G., the Blue net minder, went from feelin’ his oats to feelin’ his age and found much to deplore in his defense, or lack thereof. The Blue offense fared no better. First, its youngest player, Matt Hunt, bowed out after only three shifts, succumbing to flu-like symptoms he had felt before the game. Blue still had Andrew Bassert for speed and derring-do but then there was a steep drop-off after that, right down to the Three Inseparables: Paul Egan, Rich Devlin and Jim Heffern. Paul, for one, had a knee injury which further enfeebled his already feeble self. The good news is he’ll be skiing in Breck all next week so he’ll have plenty of time to recuperate—or make it worse. Then there was Rich Devlin who if his golf playing alter ego had displayed the same lack of drive and determination on the links as he, himself, did on the ice he would have been penalized for slow play. Finally there was Jim Heffern who seemed bent on reprising the one time in 14 years he’s scored on a slapshot, only to have the puck come off his stick like a slow, fluttering duck and gently nestle in Brian’s glove not once, twice, but four times until Rich Devlin finally chided him to “Stop.” Blue, in fact, was so desperate for offense it started to steal glances in the direction of Bob Freiling, its eyes practically imploring him to ditch Red, throw on his Scouts jersey, score a quick eight goals and lead them to victory. But Bob stayed put, his sense of loyalty growing each time Tim White condescended to pass him the puck until his fidelity was as inviolable as the day Kenny conferred upon him the Old Bucks Award and elevated him to the rank of the Immortals. He even continued to score, bagging a cheapie in the crease by interposing his stick between Kenny G. and Rich Devlin while they argued over whether the puck should be smothered or cleared. It was the ideal night for Red to dominate. The Princeton Tiger Lilies were playing next and they took an almost voyeuristic fascination in watching the game, as if they saw in Red kindred spirits, perhaps, as long as we're mixing metaphors, honoring them with the sobriquet: "Leonine Primroses". The after party was a hoot; out of 21 skaters, 15 repaired to TJ’s, as good a ratio of skaters to attendees as you’ll ever see. Four pies were consumed.