In case you missed it last week ……… If anyone is
interested I shall be putting together a season’s souvenir book of match reports
and photos of 110-120 pages entitled “HOW BISON WON THE TITLE!”. I emphasise
this is not a money spinner on my part – it will be available at cost. Alas not
cheap (about £35 inc P & P), depending on numbers and whether or not Blurb
increase their prices between now and the summer. Click on this link to see one
of my previous years’ books. This one is not supposed to be for sale please
note – I just put it up to give you an idea of what the finished article looks
like :-
If you might be interested in the 2015-16 book (no
obligation yet) FB message me or e-mail me (trevor.rutter@btopenworld.com) so I can gauge numbers.
We Are Number One I Said We Are Number One
Bison 5 Swindon Wildcats 4
13/3/16
How do I write
an impartial sports report of this game, dear reader? Well I can’t, so to Hell
with that! For a load of biased nonsense about Bison’s titanic title tilt
triumph, read on…..
With a
Yippee-ki-yay, a wowie-zowie, a zim-zam-zaramango and a bowl of Holy guacamole.
What a night in Bisonland. Bison brought home the bacon. Famin’ Nora! They only
went and won that thing beginning with “T”. Now it’s done I can mention it by
name. It is of course the title. Eh? THE TITLE! Didn’t quite catch that. THE TITLE! Are you deaf?
What about the
game? Oh yes. Well Bison started in top gear. They went for the throat from the
first puck drop. However, it was the Cats who bagged the first goal in the 11th
minute. Set up by Adam Harding, Tomasz Malasinski fired in a shot which Jonny “Shut-em-out”
Baston saved with his pad. But the puck fell into the space in front of goal
and an almighty melée ensued. That space became a scene most disordered,
deranged, devilish, daring and disorganised as players stabbed and jabbed at
the loose puck. Eventually it was forced over the line. Was it Bilbo Baggins
who has scored. No it was another hobbit, namely Jonas Höög. (I am not sure why
they call him the hobbit as he’s more akin to Gimli in stature and general
appearance - see below). Never mind it was 1-0 Cats.
Gloom and doom
descended upon the glass half empty Bison backers, but their despondency was to
be short lived. Very short lived in fact. For 17 seconds later it was level.
Alan “Prairie Dog” Lack ground the puck out and fed Tomas “Grandmaster” Karpov.
He fired an across the crease pass and there was Long Ciaron Long to smack the
puck home with a down on one knee snap shot. 1-1. In 1883 the volcano of Krakatoa
erupted. It was one of the deadliest and most destructive volcanic events in recorded
history, with over 36,000 deaths being attributed to the eruption itself and
the tsunamis
it created. The noise all that made must have been quite loud. But that pales
into insignificance when compared to the noise made by the eruption of the
Bison backers in reaction to the goal. Seismic activity was recorded in Hartlepool
and Helsinki. (Well I did warn you in the opening paragraph that this report was
going to be full of nonsense, didn’t I?)
Bison continued
to press forward in search of a go ahead goal, but it was the Cats who got one.
On the stroke of 16 minutes Lack was called for tripping. There was to be no
appeal. It wasn’t a court of law. Mr. Matthews was the law and into the box
went the errant fellow. Re-enter the hobbit. With only 2 seconds of the penalty
remaining he bagged his second. Tomasz Malasinski and Carlo Finnucci combined
to set up Höög. He broke inside and unleashed his shot. We heard a thud, but
the thud wasn’t loud enough. Baston had got a piece of it, but not a large
enough piece and the puck continued in a southerly direction, as far as the
netman was concerned, but to be truly pedantic in a north easterly direction as
far as the compass is concerned. Honest Pete, the goal judge, illuminated. I
don’t mean he himself lit up - just his goal light. 2-1 Cats.
So ended the
period with Bison facing an uphill struggle instead of a cakewalk. The Cats
weren’t there to make up the numbers and, despite being outshot by 16-9 in P1,
the brilliance of Höög had snatched the advantage for his team. What a player
he is.
Bison’s second
equalising score came on 25 minutes. Bison skipper Aaron “Billy” Connolly
scrapped for it and fed Tomas Karpov, who put Lack in on goal. The Prairie Dog
had a shot which was saved but not covered and he forced the rebounded puck
over the line for 2-2. The goal was greeted by a sudden
outburst of noise, which threatened to bring the Planet Ice roof down.
Structural Engineers familiar with the building might tell you that wouldn’t be
difficult. On this occasion the roof miraculously remained in place.
Bison continued
to press in search of a go ahead goal. They nearly got it soon after. Sloppy D
work meant that Stonewall Stevie Lyle had been hung out to dry, sold down the
river and left holding the baby all at once and not once but twice. In very
quick succession he thwarted Jarolin and Greener in one on ones with
astonishing saves, which brought “oohs and ahs” from the Bison crowd and gasps
of astonishment from Baston in the goal at the other end. His beard may be
greying (Stevie’s not Jonny’s that is), but his ability remains undiminished.
But Bison were
not to be denied. And on 33 minutes Karpov put one Bison hand on the trophy
with an unassisted goal resulting from a terrible defensive error – an “Ooo
Betty” moment if ever there was one. As if he had been slipped a brown envelope full
of dosh, a Cats D-man (I didn’t see who that was so I can’t name and shame him)
laid on the perfect pass to the Czech chap all alone in front of goal. This was no time for Karps to procrastinate nor indeed to beat around
the bush, dawdle, dilly-dally or drag his heels. And he did none of those
things. A snap backhander past Lyle, who was still in shock at seeing his D-man
lay it on a plate for the Killer, made it 3-2 Bison. In Buddhism and Hinduism Nirvana
is a state of mind characterised
by freedom from or oblivion to pain, worry, and the external world. Did the
Bison backers attain this supreme state of mental wellbeing when the goal was
scored? Hell yeah. Not through the medium of silent and introspective
meditation of course – quite the opposite. In fact quite a lot of pain was
involved – to the eardrums.
Bison now had
their noses in front. Once again they had dominated play and the shot count was
well in their favour. However, you can’t ignore the hobbit and he once again
popped up to complete his hat-trick and, in doing so, delight the inhabitants of the Shire. Breaking forward he evaded
the covering D-man, cut inside and whipped a tremendous and indeed wicked wrist
shot past Baston into the opposite side of the goal as he skated across the
face of the crease. Could the hapless netman have saved it? Not a chance. And I
will challenge anyone who says he could to a fist fight. It was 3-3 and all to
play for.
So into P3 we
passed and Bison got their noses in front again in the 44th minute.
Lack fed Karpov who broke forward with Long in support. The Grandmaster’s
across the crease pass took out both D-man and goalie and there at the back
door was Long Ciaron to smack the puck home as the net came off its moorings. I
looked immediately at Ref Matthews to see if his arms were thrown wide to
disallow the goal for net off, but instead I saw his flat hand pulsating at the
net in a most theatrical manner. The goal was good. Mr. Matthews saw that the puck
had crossed the line before the net began traveling in a south westerly
direction (see comments above regarding compass orientation). 4-3 Bison. The goal was greeted by a vociferation most tumultuous from
the Bison backers. A salvo both joyous and ecstatic. Not so much a crescendo,
which the dictionary defines as “a gradual,
steady increase
in loudness”,
as there was nothing gradual or steady about it all at. It was more of a sudden
outburst.
Could Bison now
hammer home their advantage and sew things up? Well, although they did indeed
hammer home their advantage with another goal, things were not quite sewn up,
as I shall relate, dear reader. That goal came on the stroke of 50 minutes.
When Karpov, set up by Shaun “The Sheep” Thompson and Ryan “You What?” Watt,
whipped a wrist shot past a startled Stonewall Stevie from the slot. 5-3 Bison.
The Crowd erupted. The Che Guevara impersonator leapt to his feet and with a great
wail, as opposed to a great whale, and raised his garden gnome above his head.
“Oh come on,” I hear you say. “You’ve made that up.” I guarantee he really
exists – come to the EPL playoffs and you’ll meet him. And yes he really did
bring his gnome to the game, just to prove he’s completely off his trolley. By
the way the gnome had a passing resemblance to Jonas Höög.
A 2 goal cushion
with only 10 minutes to play. There was a flurry of activity as those with
smart phones began to order silver polish online. Were they being premature?
Well almost because the game was far from over. With just over a minute
remaining Lyle was pulled from the net (actually he skated off of his own
accord rather than being dragged kicking and screaming from the crease as the
expression might suggest) to enable a last hurrah 6 on 5. And it paid off.
Finucci and Höög set up Adam Harding for a slapshot from the slot. The Harding
stick crashed to the ice with a loud report and off went a piledriver of a hot
shot clapper through traffic and into the net. No chance for Baston and anyone
who says otherwise just drop the gloves, matey.
Back came Lyle
for the face off, but was gone immediately after. He must have felt like a
yo-yo. The final tense minute was played out and featured a missed empty net
attempt and the mother of all melées in front of Jonny “Shut-em-out” Baston’s
net. But alas for the Cats he and the Bison D did exactly that. Nevertheless,
during the melée the pessimists in the crowd were on their smartphones cancelling
their orders for silver polish. But they were to be exposed as nothing other
than downright despicable defeatists, yea killjoys of the worst possible
kind wallowing in their own polluted quagmire of depression, pessimism and glass
half emptyism. Fie to them. Of course Bison were going to win the thing
beginning with T. And as the clock ticked down the crowd got to their feet and began
to sing the traditional “Great Escape” which became louder and louder and
LOUDER! The final buzzer sounded. Bison had done it. The Winston Churchill
impersonator in Block B was so elated that he was moved to mutter “Never in the
field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.” He threw his
homburg hat into the air, whilst on the ice helmets, gloves and sticks were similarly
tossed Heavenwards, perhaps as an offering the hockey gods, who clearly didn't actually want them as they all fell back to the ice. A crazed mob
of Bison players took to the ice and mobbed Jonny Baston in one huge gaggling
bunch of delirious sportsmen, which slowly drifted into the corner to the right
of Baston’s domain. Well all except one - Watty. He skated across to the
penalty box door where Lumberjack Joe Rand was standing and tried to persuade
him to come onto the ice. What a fantastic gesture, Watty. However, Joe wouldn’t
come on, not wishing to gatecrash the party. He should have as he had played a
major part in Bison’s title winning season and it was great to see he later
relented and joined the on ice celebrations. The less said about the later in
bar celebrations the better. You had to be there. What a night for all. The “Hockier
than thou” brigade, the Jonny-come-latelies, those who had stuck it out through
the dark final days of the Elite League. All Bison backers together. All for
one and one for all. As for the boys – job done.
No comments:
Post a Comment