… by Bloggy Bloggerstein
Tuesday night was very thin by the usual standards with one spare per team. Some players had work commitments, some had lame-ass excuses like “I lost my big red muscle man wife-beater and can’t play without it”, some may still be recovering from the strained twitter they received while ballet dancing instead of playing a goddamn manly sport like hockey and a few were no-call no-shows…Glug glug…
Due to a drunken but impassioned plea from Snowpants to Mrs.
Commissioner, Michelle Jaworiwsky, at Brewin’s bash, Stevo finally caved and put he and the Snowpanted one on the same squad.
Vic was so excited he instantly put on his new-found sunglasses (which were on top of the piano where he left them on tournament day, right beside a shitty-looking Value Village sleeveless number that Ricky wouldn’t wear at Sunnyvale) and ripped into a solid version of “Have a Drink on Me” by AC/DC.
The games were very competitive, with Team White prevailing 6-7, 7-3, 7-6. The Blacks were Stevo, Sunny, Snowy, Doc, Shamus and Razor.
Whites were Chevy, Boomba, Georgie Porgy Pudding and Pie, Soupy, Lovie and everyone’s favourite DJ, Hollywood Casey Kasem.
Random thoughts:
Hollywood overcame a rough start to solidify the White team. After one particularly good glove save on Sunny he replied smoothly “There’s a long distance…dedication”
Sunny intercepted every stinking goddamn pass that was attempted anywhere inside a 20 ft radius of him. It reminded Lovie of playing against Crispy. After the game Salaris continued to show off his stellar hand-eye coordination. He cozied up behind Razor and said “feel my thumb?”, to which Razor replied sheepishly “uh, yes”. Johnny threw out both hands and gave a rousing “TADAH”!
Shamus was very hard on himself. Even though he buried a number of goals he didn’t feel it was his best effort and he left after only half a beer.
Doc pissed off more than one Tomcat with his defensive play. More than once a White defenseman snuck up into the slot, drooling as a sweet pass headed their way only to have their stick lifted by the back- checking Brewin. “Hey Doc, we don’t have a Selke award, so get off my fucking back and chill out with the defence” said George
Sammy Soupy Salaris had the in-tight control going last night. He was dazzling guys with his soft mittens and sneaking dekes into the low corners. Sunny was the only one not impressed by the showing. “Fuck that” said Salaris as he cross-checked Soupy across the lower back and drove him head-first into the Snowpants Escort billboard, “see if you can deke from your head”. Funny enough, he did just that and buried his 15th of the night.
Vince Boomba made a rare appearance and showed no rust at all, playing a great game. He took a filthy high stick above the eye from Shamus early on that opened up like a mega sized bag of Doritos thrown in front of Rita McNeil. Vince stuffed a balled-up t-shirt (yes, Junior’s of course) in the gaping hole and continued to play. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go over to Met and get that stitched up?” said Stevo. “Not unless they allow road pops in the fucking waiting room” replied Boomba. What a true hockey guy.
Chevy earned man-of-the-match status in a unanimous decision. From his play, you might ask? No, he wasn’t anything to write home about. But he did bring beer as well as an assortment of polish sausage, cheese and crackers. That, my friends, is what makes you popular in the Tomcat world. Much like cigarettes in prison, beer is the currency of the Tomcats
George gave everyone a history lesson on paczkis as apparently his buddy started the tradition in Hamtramck around 20 years ago. It was delicious and educational all at the same time. George then proceeded to lob out one-liners faster than Don Rickles on Viagra and the boys laughed the night away…
Windsor Tomcats 