Windsor Tomcats

Tuesday night could have been just a mail-it-in kind of night where they guys try not to get hurt and ease their way into the tourney so they can get injured there, but not with this bunch of lions. The entrance of some new blood ensured the competitive fires were burning. Andy was brought out by George and was a nice addition to the club. He is a solid player and got the flow of the play at Kapusta down very quickly, unlike Lovie who still hasn’t figured it out after 3 years.

“Great, that’s just what we need” Doc was overheard saying on the bench “another fucking Andy”. Nevertheless, he seems like a great guy. This of course was strongly influenced by the fact that he bought a round at Purples. Two stalwart nightclub contributors, Razor and Youngblood also purchased an ice-cold refreshment for the masses. Very classy gents, but this pushed me past my deadline for this report…

The teams were as follows:

Whiteheads: Falcon, Youngblood, Chevy, Snowpants, Cribs, George, Andy

Blackholes: Razor, Hollywood, Rocky, Lovie, Doc, Shamus and Jingles

The games were very competitive once Black woke up. They came back from a 5-2 deficit to win 7-5 in game one. Shamus was in the groove once again, pumping and posing like “Ahnold” at the Mr Olympia contests as Rocky put in his usual solid game, forcing the play and making sound passes all night long. The goaltending was very good yet again and it seems we are being spoiled by the solid play of our keepers.

Jingles showed up a bit late as he had just arrived home from jet-setting and little-people-hunting out on the west coast. There were discussions that his airline selection was poor as it seemed he was on the edge of great vengeance and furious anger all night. Stale peanuts and a male flight attendant showing you his favourite “doors” can do that to you…

“What’s his problem?”, said Razor. “I thought that crazy good dope out there would make you more relaxed than that”.

Jingles had not one, but two run-ins with opponents. The first was with “New Andy” along the end wall. There was some general contact which escalated to the point where Jingles dropped his stick, gloves, shorts and left sock. The second issue was really a night-long sparring session with Snowpants. There must have been some pretty good trash talk going on as there wasn’t any real physical confrontation other than Jingles saying “I was gonna rip his heart out, I’m the best ever. I’m the most brutal and vicious, the most ruthless champion there has ever been. My style is impetuous, my defence is impregnable, and I’m just ferocious. I want his heart. I want to eat his children”. The room was absolutely quiet until Youngblood spoke.

“Didn’t you get beat up by Sergei Federov’s kid brother?” Jingles did not reply, but looks like his intensity level is in a good place for the tourney.

Game two had another display of aggression resulting in the familiar refrain of “Play the ball”. Chevy, who has been conspicuously gentlemanly all season, must have finally found out that there is no Lady Byng being handed out this season. He drank his potion and immediately became Shovey, running Doc into and over the Team Black bench. Shamus and Jingles were discussing the pros and cons of tapping a midget and were not keeping a close eye on the play when the boards crashed down on their shins. If this occurs in the final night before the big dance there should be fireworks at the tourney this year. Vegas has been putting out lines on the first full-tilt Tomcat fight:

Jingles and Snowy even money
Jingles and New Andy 2 to 1
Jingles and Rocky 3 to 1
Sunny and Soupy at Greek Easter 4 to 1 *If Soupy continues to sully the managerial acumen of Husky Eyes by missing tournaments and nights when he is to bring beer (aka this week)
Doc and Chevy 5 to 1
Chevy and Rocky 6 to 1
Jingles and Chevy 7 to 1
Sunny and Soupy 10 to 1 *If Soupy pulls up his socks in the Tomcat organization and admits to Sunny which rooms he has had sex in when he lived at the house
Hurricane and anyone 100000 to 1

White started out Game two with a substantial lead that dwindled to a 6-6 draw. All the steam Black had from their comeback was halted unceremoniously by Youngblood, who said “fuck this”, took the ball from George’s stick and began driving up the floor on the restart after Black had knotted the score at 6 all. He sashayed around Shamus, ducked in between Lovie and Hollywood and ripped a wrister that did the rarest of all things. Beat Razor top glove. Yes, you read that correctly.

Youngblood threw his gloves in the air, put his back against the wall, jumped and waited for his teammates to swarm him just like Sid at the Olympics, which they were more than happy to do.

Hollywood and Lovie looked at each other with blank stares.

“Maybe you would have been quicker tonight if you didn’t wear your tool belt, Holly” said Lovie.

“Why don’t you drop the plow?” replied Hollywood. “You are slower than a good shit on a Sunday morning”. The guys relaxed a bit after sampling some beer and chalked it up to being exhausted from all the carpentry work on the new stick rack in the Tomcat locker room prior to the game.

Soupy’s dangerous no-show when he was to bring beer was muted slightly by the studliness of Youngblood who carted in the 7 pops he ripped off the homeless guy at the Walker underpass. He’s all class.

Speaking of class, the midget discussion was started by the young turks, Shamus and Jungles. Apparently their friends have exhausted all normal means of getting their nut off and have reached the depths of hunting former TLC show stars to satisfy their strange and frightening urges.

“Midgets? Fucking midgets?” said George incredulously. “You guys are fucking sick and need help. Amputees I can see, but midgets? Disgusting.”

The line of the night goes to Doc who came up with this gem while the idea of engaging in sexual relations with midgets was being bandied about: “I think it is a great idea. Her small hands would make your dick look bigger”. You can say a lot of things about Doc, but denying his logic is not one of them…

Until next time, I’m off to Buster Hymen