Post by Old Bucks Admin on Jan 9, 2009 8:28:21 GMT -5
Just about the entire contingent of Old Bucks Eagles fans showed up for Week 16, so keen were they to avoid watching the Eagles lose to the Vikings, or at least delay having to do so as long as possible. It was well they played, for skaters were not numerous, and even Vinnie was out, forcing Rich Cerbone to once again don his goalie equipment and guard the Blue goal, his JOFA helmet perched upon his head like a big white marshmallow.
As Kenny went through the ritual of selecting teams—tossing pinnies to skaters on the ice, darting between locker rooms checking for stragglers, and talking in low tones to Hughie about prospective picks—Mark Her r commented that it was like watching a Michelangelo or Da Vinci at work. As it was, the game itself was less like the Sistine Chapel and more like a cartoon. For one, there were very few Tier I players on hand—those flashy Bob Freiling-types who elevate the game with their speed, agility, and daring-do. With mostly Tier II players the game was markedly more restrained, taking on, at times, the bizarre distortions of a dream where everyone seemed to be moving in slow motion, their positions ill-defined and haphazard—kind of like open hockey on Quaaludes. This put Bill MacDowell right in his element. He scored twice for Red and his teammates dubbed him the Big Hurt, the oldest member of the club ever to be so honored. Rich Cerbone, on whom these goals were scored, saw this as less dream-like and more like a nightmare.
The final score—16-8 Red over Blue—is a crude approximation at best. Red scored so many goals that keeping track of them was impossible without a scorekeeper or portable abacus. They ran up the score like a serial killer who can't resist plunging the dagger in a few more time even after his victim is dead. One of the chief dagger-plungers was Kenny himself who had three goals, two assists, and no pangs of conscience, thus providing more grist for the mill of his critics, who found much to deplore in his selection of teams. What stood out was his acquisition of Ned MacDowell for Red at a time when Blue was still short a defender after the loss of Jeff Skinner. Ned is notorious for the strength and pugnacity of his play--so much so that Saunders calls him "my other me"--and in Week 16 Ned shutdown the Blue forwards almost to a man. Which brings us to another move Kenny made--that of sending Jim Heffern over to Blue to anchor their offense, which worked in so far as no offense was ever weighed down by a heavier anchor. Poor Rich Cerbone never had a chance and could only submit to his punishment the way a man in a pillory submits to being pelted with rotten vegetables. After the game he vowed never to play goalie for Old Bucks again.
All the Eagles fans, as well as a few neutral observers, gathered in the snack bar to watch the game and drink beer. They seemed ill-at-ease with the Eagles 16-14 lead in the third quarter, and rather than cheer them on they hurled bitter sarcasms at the screen, vying with one another to dream up the most outrageous way the Eagles could blow the game. Eddie opined that the flat screen TV made Andy Reid's ass look big which, ironically, is the same thing he said about Dan Dougherty's new hockey pants. But even when Brian Westbrook ran 71 yards to put the Eagles up for good everyone seemed more bemused than jubilant. They knew they would need a distraction for next week's Giants game since gametime was 1 p.m. and Old Bucks hockey didn't start until 4:30. Only Mike Dougherty had a ready answer: he was going to hang drapes in his dining room.
As Kenny went through the ritual of selecting teams—tossing pinnies to skaters on the ice, darting between locker rooms checking for stragglers, and talking in low tones to Hughie about prospective picks—Mark Her r commented that it was like watching a Michelangelo or Da Vinci at work. As it was, the game itself was less like the Sistine Chapel and more like a cartoon. For one, there were very few Tier I players on hand—those flashy Bob Freiling-types who elevate the game with their speed, agility, and daring-do. With mostly Tier II players the game was markedly more restrained, taking on, at times, the bizarre distortions of a dream where everyone seemed to be moving in slow motion, their positions ill-defined and haphazard—kind of like open hockey on Quaaludes. This put Bill MacDowell right in his element. He scored twice for Red and his teammates dubbed him the Big Hurt, the oldest member of the club ever to be so honored. Rich Cerbone, on whom these goals were scored, saw this as less dream-like and more like a nightmare.
The final score—16-8 Red over Blue—is a crude approximation at best. Red scored so many goals that keeping track of them was impossible without a scorekeeper or portable abacus. They ran up the score like a serial killer who can't resist plunging the dagger in a few more time even after his victim is dead. One of the chief dagger-plungers was Kenny himself who had three goals, two assists, and no pangs of conscience, thus providing more grist for the mill of his critics, who found much to deplore in his selection of teams. What stood out was his acquisition of Ned MacDowell for Red at a time when Blue was still short a defender after the loss of Jeff Skinner. Ned is notorious for the strength and pugnacity of his play--so much so that Saunders calls him "my other me"--and in Week 16 Ned shutdown the Blue forwards almost to a man. Which brings us to another move Kenny made--that of sending Jim Heffern over to Blue to anchor their offense, which worked in so far as no offense was ever weighed down by a heavier anchor. Poor Rich Cerbone never had a chance and could only submit to his punishment the way a man in a pillory submits to being pelted with rotten vegetables. After the game he vowed never to play goalie for Old Bucks again.
All the Eagles fans, as well as a few neutral observers, gathered in the snack bar to watch the game and drink beer. They seemed ill-at-ease with the Eagles 16-14 lead in the third quarter, and rather than cheer them on they hurled bitter sarcasms at the screen, vying with one another to dream up the most outrageous way the Eagles could blow the game. Eddie opined that the flat screen TV made Andy Reid's ass look big which, ironically, is the same thing he said about Dan Dougherty's new hockey pants. But even when Brian Westbrook ran 71 yards to put the Eagles up for good everyone seemed more bemused than jubilant. They knew they would need a distraction for next week's Giants game since gametime was 1 p.m. and Old Bucks hockey didn't start until 4:30. Only Mike Dougherty had a ready answer: he was going to hang drapes in his dining room.