Post by Old Bucks Admin on Dec 8, 2008 16:12:07 GMT -5
You didn’t need Jimmy the Greek to predict a low turnout for Week 12. Game time was 6:30 p.m.—the dinner hour to be exact—when Old Bucks hockey takes a back seat to hot roast beef and mashed potatoes. A few stalwarts still showed up, mainly people like Eddie who carbed up during the Giants-Eagles game, or Joe Puegeot, who gets by on a simple diet of goat’s milk and organic Fiddle Faddle. Joe cut quite an absurd figure during the pregame warm up when he wore his trademark Puegeot jersey inside out, not aware he did so until Bob Freiling pulled him aside and told him. Some said it was the most embarrassing Old Bucks moment since Doug Rendell played half a game trailing a piece of toilet paper from his skate.
For teams Kenny sent Bob Freiling to Blue as a guilt offering for last week’s lopsided debacle and snapped up Brian Urban in his stead. Brian chafed at the notion of wearing a red pinny, not from any personal scruples, but from a fear of Kip Thomas, who would probably dub him a traitor and put him so low on Blue’s depth chart you’d need a diving bell to find him. Thankfully Kip was home watching the Dallas-Steelers game, which ranks as the lamest excuse for missing Old Bucks hockey since Week 11 when Mike Dougherty stayed home to hang drapes in his living room.
Once the puck dropped Ned MacDowell opened the scoring and put Blue up by one. Indeed, the fresh, glimmering ice offered little resistance to Ned’s shot, and Marty even less. Then Craig Allen snuck one past Vinnie and tied it up—a pattern that would continue until the teams were deadlocked at three, at which point Blue made its move. It was nothing dramatic, but neither are snowballs dramatic when they first start rolling down the mountain. For the next hour Blue outscored Red 8-4 and did so in a fashion that excluded no one. We won’t even say who scored, only to say the following forwards contributed in equal measure: Bob Freiling, Bill MacDowell, Dan Dougherty, Jim Heffern, Joe Peugeot, and Rich Cerbone. They were teammates in the truest sense of the word, as closely knit as players can get without sharing an agent. Fittingly the Blue bench rang with their exploits, celebrating each goal with the exuberance of a bar at happy hour. At the same time the Red defensemen, Eddie and Hughie, glared at one another the way European soccer players do, only cage to cage rather than face to face.
In the end Red made one last all-consuming effort to gain ground on Blue, if only to prove themselves a foe worthy of being vanquished. They scored three straight and stood on the threshold of tying the game while the Blue bench turned anxiously quiet, the team’s reputation hanging in the balance. Craig Allen had the best chance to even the score but his shot, which would have been his fourth goal of the game, lodged in Vinnie’s lap and stayed there until the final buzzer sounded—an office performed by Rich Devlin’s son, who manned the scorer’s box. The effect of the buzzer was like that of a dinner bell and everyone bolted for the locker rooms knowing a three course meal awaited them—little pretzels as appetizers, big pretzels for entrées, and beer for dessert.
For teams Kenny sent Bob Freiling to Blue as a guilt offering for last week’s lopsided debacle and snapped up Brian Urban in his stead. Brian chafed at the notion of wearing a red pinny, not from any personal scruples, but from a fear of Kip Thomas, who would probably dub him a traitor and put him so low on Blue’s depth chart you’d need a diving bell to find him. Thankfully Kip was home watching the Dallas-Steelers game, which ranks as the lamest excuse for missing Old Bucks hockey since Week 11 when Mike Dougherty stayed home to hang drapes in his living room.
Once the puck dropped Ned MacDowell opened the scoring and put Blue up by one. Indeed, the fresh, glimmering ice offered little resistance to Ned’s shot, and Marty even less. Then Craig Allen snuck one past Vinnie and tied it up—a pattern that would continue until the teams were deadlocked at three, at which point Blue made its move. It was nothing dramatic, but neither are snowballs dramatic when they first start rolling down the mountain. For the next hour Blue outscored Red 8-4 and did so in a fashion that excluded no one. We won’t even say who scored, only to say the following forwards contributed in equal measure: Bob Freiling, Bill MacDowell, Dan Dougherty, Jim Heffern, Joe Peugeot, and Rich Cerbone. They were teammates in the truest sense of the word, as closely knit as players can get without sharing an agent. Fittingly the Blue bench rang with their exploits, celebrating each goal with the exuberance of a bar at happy hour. At the same time the Red defensemen, Eddie and Hughie, glared at one another the way European soccer players do, only cage to cage rather than face to face.
In the end Red made one last all-consuming effort to gain ground on Blue, if only to prove themselves a foe worthy of being vanquished. They scored three straight and stood on the threshold of tying the game while the Blue bench turned anxiously quiet, the team’s reputation hanging in the balance. Craig Allen had the best chance to even the score but his shot, which would have been his fourth goal of the game, lodged in Vinnie’s lap and stayed there until the final buzzer sounded—an office performed by Rich Devlin’s son, who manned the scorer’s box. The effect of the buzzer was like that of a dinner bell and everyone bolted for the locker rooms knowing a three course meal awaited them—little pretzels as appetizers, big pretzels for entrées, and beer for dessert.
