Post by Old Bucks Admin on Dec 2, 2008 10:43:02 GMT -5
Among Thanksgiving holiday traditions Old Bucks hockey ranks just below the level of a Predators-Bluejackets game. Which is to say that not many players showed up for Week 11. Those who did luxuriated in the near-empty locker rooms where elbow room is normally at a premium. They speculated that most of the club was either traveling, at home with family, or in the case of Art Rosenbaum, scouring every plumbing supply house in the state in search of the correct 90-degree elbow for his sink.
With short benches players coming off the ice barely had time to prop their stick against the boards and get a drink of water before they were forced back into the fray. This played to Red’s advantage as it meant their two big guns, Bob Freiling and Greg Wright, were always either at bat, on deck, or in the hole. When both shared the ice the pace of the game was frenetic and slower players like Bill MacDowell were reduced to floating in the neutral zone, blurring the distinction between offense and defense and playing a hybrid of the two, or “doffense”. Bob and Greg synced up so well they were like a couple, exchanging furtive “pass hither” looks that Blue didn’t detect until it was too late. Rich Devlin, who was back on Blue and back on D, was also back on his heels trying to stop them, but to no avail. He fondly remembered his one week stint on Red the way Brian Urban remembered his honeymoon in Aruba, only without the cheap, undrinkable beer, and frequent rain squalls.
With Red up 9-3 Kenny took pity and sent Blue Jim Heffern, who switches teams with more indifference than a woman of easy virtue switches paramours. The change was instantaneous. The moment he took the ice Mark Herr’s son, Brooks, carried the puck the length of the ice, gambled on a shot low and stick-side, and drew Blue to within 5. Momentum had turned in Blue’s favor. Soon Jim Heffern scored and would have scored again except that Vinnie, awestruck by his stickhandling, genuflected before his shot and made a terrific pad save. But Blue kept up the pressure and cut the lead to two with only 7 minutes to play. But it was not to be. Red staggered but did not fall. The game’s defining moment came when Kenny left his perch at the point, swooped down on the Blue goal and caught Marty flat-footed with a shot so soft it looked like he used a dust swifter. Blue was licked and they knew it. Some Thanksgiving, they said to themselves. Dan Daugherty didn’t even bring any pretzels.
With short benches players coming off the ice barely had time to prop their stick against the boards and get a drink of water before they were forced back into the fray. This played to Red’s advantage as it meant their two big guns, Bob Freiling and Greg Wright, were always either at bat, on deck, or in the hole. When both shared the ice the pace of the game was frenetic and slower players like Bill MacDowell were reduced to floating in the neutral zone, blurring the distinction between offense and defense and playing a hybrid of the two, or “doffense”. Bob and Greg synced up so well they were like a couple, exchanging furtive “pass hither” looks that Blue didn’t detect until it was too late. Rich Devlin, who was back on Blue and back on D, was also back on his heels trying to stop them, but to no avail. He fondly remembered his one week stint on Red the way Brian Urban remembered his honeymoon in Aruba, only without the cheap, undrinkable beer, and frequent rain squalls.
With Red up 9-3 Kenny took pity and sent Blue Jim Heffern, who switches teams with more indifference than a woman of easy virtue switches paramours. The change was instantaneous. The moment he took the ice Mark Herr’s son, Brooks, carried the puck the length of the ice, gambled on a shot low and stick-side, and drew Blue to within 5. Momentum had turned in Blue’s favor. Soon Jim Heffern scored and would have scored again except that Vinnie, awestruck by his stickhandling, genuflected before his shot and made a terrific pad save. But Blue kept up the pressure and cut the lead to two with only 7 minutes to play. But it was not to be. Red staggered but did not fall. The game’s defining moment came when Kenny left his perch at the point, swooped down on the Blue goal and caught Marty flat-footed with a shot so soft it looked like he used a dust swifter. Blue was licked and they knew it. Some Thanksgiving, they said to themselves. Dan Daugherty didn’t even bring any pretzels.