Post by Jim H. on Jan 8, 2024 6:47:13 GMT -5
We got our winter duds out of the attic for Week 16 as the trucks were out brining the roads and the threat of an El Niño/polar vortex-type weather system promised to dump enough snow on the ground to confine us and everyone else in Old Bucks at home with our wild-haired wives. Luckily it all petered out and we got to play Old Bucks. Even the threat of having only one goalie petered out. Mark Phillips originally said he couldn’t play because his son had a hockey game in northern NJ. But the game was cancelled and so he consoled himself with the joy that comes from throwing on all that cool gear and jumping between the pipes for a club whose rallying cry is, “Alright! Let’s go out there and…not get hurt.”
After the three-week layoff there was a lot of catching up to do in the locker room. In a nutshell: Dave Boggs bought a Tesla Cybertruck with the royalties from his name, image and likeness deal; Ben David’s accent reduction surgery was successful and he now practically sounds like a normal American (we even heard him say “youz guys”). And Hughie said he almost got a deer over the holiday—but felt his car was worth more. There were two guest skaters, relatives of the Tonas we believe, and according to the lineups named Christian and Rob Betten. “What’s the scouting report say?” we inquired. Kenny chimed in: “They say they haven’t skated in about two years.” “They always say that,” Eddie replied. “And then they pull a Michigan the first time they touch the puck.” Anyway Brian explained to the Bettens the rules of Old Bucks with special emphasis on checking which, thanks to Harvard’s president’s testimony before Congress, is now “context-dependent.” Just like Eddie’s choice to wear his old mesh jersey whenever he skates Red. “I don’t want to sweat,” he says. “I’ve been playing with you for 20 years and I’ve never seen you sweat once,” Hughie retorted.
It was a new year. Which means a new beginning for Red, still trying to salvage a season that has exceeded all others in abject futility. With a record of 2-12-1 its only hope of turning things around, short of playing better hockey, is having Taylor Swift hang out on the Blue bench. Certainly it came out strong with Josh Hunter head-manning a nice pass to Ryan Crowell who struck like a bespectacled viper and gave Red the 1-0 lead. But Blue tied it up with Alan Blankstein, crashing down low, being denied twice by Mark with stabs from the pads, before hoisting it under the crossbar for a nifty third effort. Poignantly we thought of Rich Devlin, out on IR, and wished he was there to say, “Alan! When did you get here?”
Steady as a metronome the teams traded goals. Then Hughie absolutely leveled one of the Bettens who hit the ice so hard his helmet flew off. Thankfully he was okay. And Hughie was able to provide the proper context on the bench: “He skated backwards full-speed right into me? What else could I do?” Thanks to Harvard Old Bucks hockey will never be the same.
Red looked in command, up 8-7 and playing with all manner of espirit de Ben. Then Joe Herbert, in his last game with Old Bucks, went out in style, uncorking an old-timey slap shot from just inside the blue line that went whizzing by Mark who, until then, was playing quite a game. Yes, Joe is moving back to Boston to work at Boston University right in the shadow of its hockey arena where, we hope, he’ll get a big dose of the game to offset whatever withdrawal symptoms accompany his going “cold turkey.” In his brief tenure with the club he has been the Rainbow Bridge joining the Niagara Falls of Red to the Niagara Falls of Blue across a gulf that is more than the physical one between the US and Canada. It’s cultural like the one between Maple Leafs fans and Canadiens fans. The mark he leaves is indelible. The memories multitudinous and all good. Some people play hockey. Others PLAY hockey. But Joe PLAYS hockey and it rubs off in his manner, full of extreme politics filtered through polite Canadian charm. Fittingly Joe’s goal spurred Blue to take a 13-11 lead into the game’s closing minutes. Red tried every means at its disposal short of pulling the tender in an all-out bid to tie the game. With two minutes left Ryan Crowell surely would have had a breakaway except that he was flagrantly hooked at the blue line with the alleged defenseman, Kenny Blankstein, named as the perpetrator. With one minute left Andrew Cordssen-David dangled his way right up to Danny’s doorstep only to have his deke denied with dastardly Dougherty defiance. And though we couldn’t make the afterparty at TJ’s we got word that Joe was given the proper sendoff with fist bumps, hugs, and the requisite pizza and beverages. Best of luck, Joe! We all wish you well!
After the three-week layoff there was a lot of catching up to do in the locker room. In a nutshell: Dave Boggs bought a Tesla Cybertruck with the royalties from his name, image and likeness deal; Ben David’s accent reduction surgery was successful and he now practically sounds like a normal American (we even heard him say “youz guys”). And Hughie said he almost got a deer over the holiday—but felt his car was worth more. There were two guest skaters, relatives of the Tonas we believe, and according to the lineups named Christian and Rob Betten. “What’s the scouting report say?” we inquired. Kenny chimed in: “They say they haven’t skated in about two years.” “They always say that,” Eddie replied. “And then they pull a Michigan the first time they touch the puck.” Anyway Brian explained to the Bettens the rules of Old Bucks with special emphasis on checking which, thanks to Harvard’s president’s testimony before Congress, is now “context-dependent.” Just like Eddie’s choice to wear his old mesh jersey whenever he skates Red. “I don’t want to sweat,” he says. “I’ve been playing with you for 20 years and I’ve never seen you sweat once,” Hughie retorted.
It was a new year. Which means a new beginning for Red, still trying to salvage a season that has exceeded all others in abject futility. With a record of 2-12-1 its only hope of turning things around, short of playing better hockey, is having Taylor Swift hang out on the Blue bench. Certainly it came out strong with Josh Hunter head-manning a nice pass to Ryan Crowell who struck like a bespectacled viper and gave Red the 1-0 lead. But Blue tied it up with Alan Blankstein, crashing down low, being denied twice by Mark with stabs from the pads, before hoisting it under the crossbar for a nifty third effort. Poignantly we thought of Rich Devlin, out on IR, and wished he was there to say, “Alan! When did you get here?”
Steady as a metronome the teams traded goals. Then Hughie absolutely leveled one of the Bettens who hit the ice so hard his helmet flew off. Thankfully he was okay. And Hughie was able to provide the proper context on the bench: “He skated backwards full-speed right into me? What else could I do?” Thanks to Harvard Old Bucks hockey will never be the same.
Red looked in command, up 8-7 and playing with all manner of espirit de Ben. Then Joe Herbert, in his last game with Old Bucks, went out in style, uncorking an old-timey slap shot from just inside the blue line that went whizzing by Mark who, until then, was playing quite a game. Yes, Joe is moving back to Boston to work at Boston University right in the shadow of its hockey arena where, we hope, he’ll get a big dose of the game to offset whatever withdrawal symptoms accompany his going “cold turkey.” In his brief tenure with the club he has been the Rainbow Bridge joining the Niagara Falls of Red to the Niagara Falls of Blue across a gulf that is more than the physical one between the US and Canada. It’s cultural like the one between Maple Leafs fans and Canadiens fans. The mark he leaves is indelible. The memories multitudinous and all good. Some people play hockey. Others PLAY hockey. But Joe PLAYS hockey and it rubs off in his manner, full of extreme politics filtered through polite Canadian charm. Fittingly Joe’s goal spurred Blue to take a 13-11 lead into the game’s closing minutes. Red tried every means at its disposal short of pulling the tender in an all-out bid to tie the game. With two minutes left Ryan Crowell surely would have had a breakaway except that he was flagrantly hooked at the blue line with the alleged defenseman, Kenny Blankstein, named as the perpetrator. With one minute left Andrew Cordssen-David dangled his way right up to Danny’s doorstep only to have his deke denied with dastardly Dougherty defiance. And though we couldn’t make the afterparty at TJ’s we got word that Joe was given the proper sendoff with fist bumps, hugs, and the requisite pizza and beverages. Best of luck, Joe! We all wish you well!