WEDNESDAYS #10 vs. HOCKY TEEM:

(vol. 18W, no. 10; newsletter by b.n.)
Sometimes the newsletter is later. Sometimes it is really late. Well my rule of thumb is that if Harris gets the newsletter before the next week's game it is not technically “late.” Someone once asked my why I don't just write the newsletter before the game; that way instead of being like six days late it would be 12 hours early. I initially protested (arguing how could I write the newsletter ahead of time when I don't have any idea what is going to happen?), but then they quickly pointed out that I never write about the game anyway, so what difference does it make? Hmmmm, I guess that is a pretty good point. So while I'm on the subject of “Rules & Thumbs”: One of the other rules that I have is that I never drink before a game (Hah! got you on that one). In all seriousness though, I try not to drink to the extent that the locker room smells like a brewery prior to the game. Let's face it, if you have to get a designated driver to drive you to the game, you've had too much to drink. And one more thing, if you have been eating and drinking all day and you suddenly feel the urge to flatuate — don't do it! Auugghh. And if that doesn't kill you, the swampy, fish smell that Kevin dragged in with him will certainly do the trick.

And then, as they say, things went from bad to worst: As the game started it was Evan The Sober, #67, and The Drunken Master on offense; while Keith and Mike started on the blueline. Perhaps the fumes from the locker room got to opening line as the entire trio skated like they split a keg for dinner. Before their shift was over, there were two pucks in the net — and it wasn't the right net. Fortunately, for the Coastal Pirates, the second line of Russ-Wildman-Chris “Scarfoot” Goione were able to settle things down and keep things from getting any worse. At the end of the 1st period, the Pirates trailed 2-0.

To say the game was chippy would be like The Drunken Master saying, “It's Miller Time.” The tone was set rather early when somebody tried to take Russ's head off. There were actually screams of horror on the bench as Russ' helmet bounced to the floor (but then the Drunken Master realized that Russ' head was not actually in the helmet, but was, in fact, still attached to his neck). The Pirates would end up on a number of powerplays, but it wasn't until their third powerplay of the evening that the Pirates got on the board; the man-advantage goal started when Russ picked-up the puck in front of the Pirate bench and fed to Chris (playing with stitches in his foot after his bizarre “hunting accident”) who then one-timed the puck from just outside the crease for to get the Pirates on the board, 2-1. Later in the 2nd period the Pirates would pick up a 5-on-3 powerplay (the Pirates didn't score on with the extra skaters, but just seconds after the last penalty expired Kevin blasted a shot in the upper corner to tie things up at 2-2. And speaking of Kevin, when he was in the Fulton Fish Market (oh wait, it was the locker room — it only smelled like the Fulton Fish Market) ... anyway he wanted to make sure that I mentioned the wide-open net that #67 missed on a great feed from Evan The Sober (like I ever forget to mention #67). But before I can get to #67, there was that little play at the end of the 2nd period where the defenseman coughed up the puck and the Hocky Teem were able to skate down the rink and score with just under :30 seconds remaining to regain the lead, 3-2. Since #67 was on offense, I wonder what “stinky” defenseman might have been on the ice for that.

The 3rd period featured Mike picking-up a goal when he took the face-off from #67, skated from his own blueline, and blasted the puck past the goalie. But of course, the goal of the night had to go to Keith who, while killing a powerplay, threw the puck on net from behind the face-off circle in the Pirate end; from 150-feet away the puck somehow managed to sneak by the goalie to give the Pirates the lead that they never would relinquish. And, yeah, #67 missed a wide-open net ... but at least he didn't stink like a dead fish.