Post by Jim H. on Feb 25, 2016 6:06:06 GMT -5
There’s hockey and then there’s Old Bucks, which is like the Hunger Games with beer. Week 24 was no different, an 8-8 thriller on the occasion of the Loucks Ice Center being named “Official Rink Partner of the New Jersey Devils” as banners in the stands and placards on the boards proclaimed. Indeed Thursday night Colin White (no relation to Tim) was in the house to formally consecrate the rink to everything “Devilish”, playing hockey with the kids, signing autographs and humoring the dads who kept on asking, “Did you really play defense with the Great Scott Stevens?” The formality of the event carried over into Sunday prompting Jim Heffern to dispense with the polar bear pajamas and play in dark blue laundered khakis, which is one remove from Skupe who, had he been there, would have donned a tuxedo. Turnout was surprisingly modest with notable absentees ranging from Dr. Millen to the Artist formerly known as Bob Freiling to the new guy with the flowing blonde locks whose abundance of hair has been such a thorn in the side of Scott McCann. The game had all the earmarks of a showdown with Eddie guarding the Blue net and Vinnie between the pipes for Red, wearing his faux Canadiens jersey and Canadien-colored goalie pads in honor of Ted Cruz’s resounding third place finish in the South Carolina primary. By the time we hit the ice JetBlue had already left the gate and was taxiing to a 2-1 lead. Then Scott McCann hit a streaking Brian Pike who lit the lamp for a 2-2 tie. Then Alan Blankstein shot the puck well wide of the net and it went right on the tape of Scott McCann’s stick who danced along the goal line and shoveled the puck around the near post for the score, 3-2 Red. Andrew Tona knotted the game at three’s and Craig Allen, always a flight risk when Red isn’t coasting to an easy victory, bowed out, announcing his presence by suddenly becoming absent. Both goalies looked as sharp as the point of our Ticonderoga pencil, Eddie flashing some leather here and Vinnie going spread eagle on a Brian Urban breakaway and stopping him cold with both kneepads parallel to the ice. But the teams rallied to their standards and escalated their attempts to score until the other Eddie, the one with the GoFundMe/pizza account for the after party, ripped one from the point and snapped the tie, giving Red the 4-3 lead, followed by Brian Pike shedding tacklers up the right wing and sneaking a wrist shot underneath Eddie’s blocker to extend Red’s lead to two. Blue reeled but did not collapse as Andrew Tona trained his sights on a glaring gap in Vinnie’s five-hole and hit it bull’s-eye, 5-4 Red. Then Jim Heffern, who hadn’t scored in forever, and hadn’t been in his own defensive zone in longer than that, hooked up with Mark Timmons on a long Randall-Cunningham-to-Fred-Barnett pass to set up the breakaway and the score, knotting the game, once again, at fives. This was pure, unadulterated hockey purged of all foreign influences except for Paul Egan whose SUPER-PAC, Nova Scotians for Trump, has been the talk of the BBC. The game lapsed into a goalless drought where for a half hour neither team scored. Worth noting was the collision of Mark Timmons with Greg Dougherty during which the two tumbled into the Blue goal, dislodging it from its moorings, and resulting in Greg having a skate lace sliced right in half. Infuriated, Greg spent the rest of the game mouthing off at any Blue player who got in his way and almost traded blows with Doug Rendell which, on the scale of provocation, ranks right up there with Mel Gibson taking on a single paparazzo. This puts Greg on the short list for the “Mr. Byng Award”, a new year-end award given in honor of Lady Byng’s abusive and ill-tempered husband. At the 7:18 mark Alan Blankstein snapped the tie with a nifty top-shelf backhand to put Red up 6-5. Blue got jobbed by a couple phantom offsides calls but still fought back, handily in fact; and on the strength of goals by Brian Urban and Steve Souza, managed to eke out a tie game as the buzzer sounded. Blue pride was retained just enough so that Rich Devlin, who’s had his share of Red sand kicked in his bubble-protected face over the years, can still hold up his bic lighter and sing “We are the Champions” at the top of his lungs when he goes to that Queen tribute band concert in April.