Sunday, 18 March 2018

Dynamos Fail To Generate Any Electricity


Bison 6 Invicta Dynamos 0
17/3/18

With the league title or, to give it its proper name, the NIHL South 1 Britton Conference, clinched last weekend with an 8-1 flagellation of the Cardiff Fire, Bison now moved into the first playoff preliminary round. Much to their chagrin, the Dynamos found themselves having to face the same team that had given them a 10-1 trousers down spanking last weekend. Would they fare better this time? They did, but not by much, as I shall relate, dear reader.

P1 was scoreless and I intended to waste no paper in describing the events of that goalless epoch. Indeed no. I shall move on to P2 without further comment or ado.

P2 opened and Bison eventually scored, but it had taken them 23:05 of the game to do so. However, they wouldn’t have scored had it not been for an Ooo Betty moment for goaltender Damien “The Omen” King, who, I am reliably informed, is not the same person as Euan King. He (Damien not Euan that is) was caught out, caught napping, caught on the hop, caught with his trousers down and caught a cold as a result. Stuart “The Cat” Mogg floated a speculative wrist shot on the net from the blue line. We heard a clunk of rubber against metal, we saw a red goal light illuminated, we smelled success. Referee Brooks and his flat pointy hand confirmed that an unassisted Moggie had scored. 1-0 Bison.

On 26:20 Ondrej Zosiak slashed Paul Petts. Slash has a dictionary definition of “to cut or lay about
(a person or thing) with sharp sweeping strokes, as with a sword, knife, etc”.We can only assume that
this is what Mr. Brooks saw Zosiak doing to Petts, thankfully without a sword or a knife. The whistle
blew and up went the Brooks arm to indicate a penalty. Said Brooks to Zosiak, 
“you’re bang out of order, matey. You’re doing a spot of porridge for that.”   
Having played in England for 3 years, there was no need for anyone to translate this into Zosiak’s 
native tongue thus –:
 
Chystáte sa prerušiť, matey. Robíš miesto na opeľovanie.” He knew what was coming and down 
the steps went the hapless Slovak D-man. Bison were on the power play.

43 seconds later it was 2-0. Set up by Desperate Dan Davies and Aaron “Billy” Connolly, Tomas Karpov found himself in front of goal unchallenged and with all the time in the world to pick his spot such was the ineptitude of the Mos’ D in closing him down, which they didn’t do at all. The Czech chap had so much time he might even have done an eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Suddenly he whipped a wrist shot past a startled King.

43 seconds later it was 3-0. Just as they had on the previous Saturday, the Mos were crumbling in the 2nd as surely as the walls of Jericho did at the 7th trumpet blast. Davies laid on a drop pass for Karpov to skate onto. The fellow fast-tracked forward firmly and faultlessly to finish with finesse and fortitude. The finish was another wrist shot which beat King for pace and flew past him before he could say Ooo Matron, Ooo Betty or Ooo er Mrs. 3-0 Bison.

King may have thought that his P2 misery was over, but, if he did, he was wallowing in a sea of misapprehension. Bison hadn’t finished and scored a 4th in a manner which must have plunged the hapless netman into a state of doom, despondency, depression, disconsolation, distress and defeatism. It all started on 36:02 with the gritty Mason Webster having his collar felt for boarding. Just as the penalty was expiring Kurt “The Scissors” Reynolds, set up by Roman Malinik and Josh Smith, whipped a wrist shot in a netwards direction. Presumably screened, King had no idea what was coming. Had it been a slap shot at least he would have heard it, but it wasn’t and he didn’t. The silent puck flew past his head and in. He turned his head as if to say “Eh? Where did that one come from”. 4-0 Bison.

The period ended and it had been a chunderous one for the visitors. 0-4 to the bad and only 6 shots on the net in 2 periods (Bison had managed 23 in P2 alone), they were sliding into a bubbling cesspool of humiliation, just as they had the previous week. Could they keep Bison at bay in P3 and go away with a semblance of pride? Well sort of. P3 yielded only 2 more goals, as I shall relate, dear reader.

Bison’s 5th score occurred on 54:39. A messy squabbling of sticks occurred in front of the Mos’ crease. General Grant Rounding (great to see him back after the attempt on his life by the psychopathic Frankie Bakrlik – now suspended for 18 games rather than serving time in a dark, dank dungeon at Her Majesty’s Pleasure, which would have been more appropriate) won the puck and was thinking of a shot himself when he became aware of a motion behind him. Was it the 9:15 to Waterloo? No it was Malinik charging forward as fast as Postman Pat being pursued by the hound of the Baskervilles. He, the Czech chap that is, laid stick on puck and snapped it home past the glove of King, who must have been delighted that he had now been beaten by something which wasn’t a wrist shot. He showed no signs of celebration, however, unlike the Bison players who threw their arms in the air. The only thing the hapless King wanted to throw was the towel in, but he soldiered on.

On 58:28 Bison rounded off the scoring for the night with a 6th goal. I have to confess I lost my concentration on 58:27 and cannot describe how the goal was scored. I turned to the Bespectacled Youth and asked him. He replied “sort of bobbled up and then came down.” That brings me very nicely on to Frank Gusenberg (that's him below), the sole survivor, albeit by only three hours, of the St. Valentine’s Day massacre of 1929, which I have referred to in previous reports, which you will know if you are a regular reader of this balderdash. Police attended the grizzly scene in a garage on (or is it in?) the North Side of Chicago where 7 blood splattered men lay peppered with bullet wounds. Only Gusenberg was still alive. “Who shot you, Frank?” asked one of the boys in blue. Gusenberg was no stool pigeon and, despite having been hit by 8 bullet and now resembling a colander, replied “Nobody shot me.” And so the police were none the wiser. In a similar fashion, on hearing the Bespectacled Youth’s description of the goal, I was none the wiser. Scored by Ryan Sutton and assisted by Paul Petts and Elliott Dewey (his 2nd assist of the game) is all I can say.



And indeed I will say no more except that the game ended and King and Reynolds were elected Top Bananas for their respective teams.

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