Captain Connolly Curtails Canine Capers

Bison 3 Sheffield Steeldogs 1

Play off semi-final

7/9/18

Up went the metaphorical curtain for the second semi-final of the afternoon, the Telford Tigers having slipped comfortably and in an eel-esque fashion past a disappointing Peterborough Phantoms earlier in the afternoon. Who would they face in the final? All hopes for the south now rested with Basingstoke Bison. And what an Ooo Matron game it proved to be.

The game opened, as they always do, and we were treated to a very even first period with neither side managing to make a breakthrough. So I will not waste any paper on this scoreless epoch, but will instead move directly into P2.

The game continued to ebb and flow. Bison had had much the better of the first period, but the Dogs had come back strongly and, much to the horror of the Bison backers, it was the Dogs who took the lead on 29:00. Set up by Ashleigh Calvert and Tom Relf, Milan Kolena skated forward from a position wide to the goaltender’s right and whipped a pinpoint accurate wrist shot across Dean Skinns and over his glove. Ooo Betty. 1-0 Dogs.

The Dogs’ goal was the signal for a surge of glass half empty-ism amongst the dastardly pessimists of the Bison backers. The game was half over, Bison had failed to score and now the Dogs were in the lead. It was surely curtains for the Basingstoke icemen. The fat lady might just as well start singing. Well no it wasn’t and, in fact, the lead lasted 5:27 only to disappear as if part of a Tommy Cooper magic trick. Moments before, maybe 10-15 seconds, Mystic Jo said to the Che Guevara impersonator “we’re going to score” and lo and behold that is precisely what happened (that is absolutely true). Kurt “The Scissors” Reynolds supplied the puck to Josh Smith, who raced forward towards the canine net leaving the Dogs D moving as unrapidly as a load of feasting slugs on a lettuce leaf. Smith unleashed his shot only to find that the Dog’s netman, Dmitri Zimozdra, could move a lot quicker than his aforementioned gastropodal D as he got down to block the shot. The puck rebounded directly into Aaron “Billy” Connolly’s path. Zimozdra would have said “Bally hard cheddar, you Bison chappies - have another go” had he been able to, but he didn’t have time to get any words out at all as Connolly snapped the puck past him and into the stringbag before he could even say “What ho!” 1-1 with 34:37 on the clock. The deprecating pessimists emerged from their cesspit of defeatism. Yogi Berra was right when he said “It ain’t over till it’s over.” And it wasn’t, as you will learn by reading further, dear reader.

There were no more goals in the period, but that does not mean there was no excitement. Indeed no. During a late period Dogs’ power play the Antonov twins broke away and hammered the puck off the post. Shortly after there was the mother of all blue paint scrambles in front of the Bison goal. It was every man for himself with shoving, slashing, poking, whacking, prodding, stabbing and pushing being the order of the day with half those present trying to force the puck over the line and the other half trying desperately to prevent the puck from going over the line. Suddenly the puck squirted sideways from the pandemonic mêlée and went to, from a Bison perspective, safety. Shortly after the buzzer blared forth to bring a cessation to P2 hostilities.

It had been a pretty even period and a pretty even game overall. Which way the pendulum would swing in P3? Bison backers were leaving no stone unturned in providing vocal support in a most unGuildford Flames manner. It was a veritable Phil Spector-esqe wall of sound. A man wearing a red #63 Connolly shirt stirred up a chant. Alas his embryonic playoff beard, grown specially for the occasion, gave him an appearance which was more homeless man than ZZ Top. “Boom, boom, boom. Let me hear you say Bison,” he bellowed. “BISERN!” yelled the crowd back in answer to his request. Clearly unsatisfied with this response he repeated the request and was greeted with an even louder “BISERN!” This went on for several rounds. Alas no-one gave him their spare change, which was a shame after such a fine show of cheerleading. By the way did you know that the only member of ZZ Top who does not have a beard is drummer Frank Beard?

Then on 48:01 Bison surged into a lead they never gave up (oh sorry I’ve given the end away). Paul Petts or Ryan Sutton (I am not sure which, but they both picked up assists) speared a long pass forwards which was picked up by Connolly. He battled forwards, came up against a concrete curtain of confrontation which was the Dogs’ D, which had shed their sluggardly ways (see description of Bison goal no.1), lost the puck, regained the puck and then moved into the slot. The goal was almost completely blocked from view and there seemed to be more players between Connolly and the goal than the whole population of China. There was no way through surely? Well yes there was because Billy suddenly whipped a wrist shot high into the net. If there were any members of the aristocracy present (unlikely) they may have described the goal as spiffing, spanking, top drawer, wizard or capital. To the rest of us it was just a bloody good goal. 2-1 Bison. The dastardly pessimists, previously referred to, suddenly become overwhelming optimists. They had managed to extract themselves dripping from their cesspit of depression, anxiety and doubt. Of course Bison were going to win.

The Dogs had battled hard and had given as good as they had got, but what they hadn’t got was the lead. The clocked ticked down (or rather up – those who were there will know what I mean). Eventually it reached last chance saloon time for the Dogs. A time out was called. Goaltender Zimozdra was given his P45 and the game resumed with a 6 on 5. Then horror of horrors for the canine supporters, Bison skipper Connolly, who had already twice spanked the Dogs, took possession of the puck and broke away. The most striking thing about the breakaway was a pursuing D-man (not sure who that was) with an admirable display of lost cause chasing. He just refused to surrender. Winston Churchill would have been impressed. He, the D-man that is, not Churchill, had dropped his stick, possibly to leave his hands free to clutch at a straw, but, although thus emasculated, he didn’t give up and he hammered backwards towards the yawning chasm that was the Zimozdra-less empty net, a couple of yards behind Connolly. The hapless fellow was helpless and it was hopeless, but it was as if his life depended on it or that there would be no tomorrow. Perhaps he thought that it did and there wasn’t. But it didn’t and there must have been as we woke up the next morning and there was, albeit that that tomorrow was 3 days ago as I write, so it wasn’t even yesterday, although it would have been had I written this on Sunday. Confused? I am. Perhaps Yogi Berra was right when he said “The future ain’t what it used to be”. Back to the action, the impotent D-man’s efforts were all in vain. Connolly stroked the puck across the line to complete his hat-trick and clinch the game for Bison. 3-1.

The joyous Bison backers knew they were in the final, as with only 26 seconds remaining, the Dogs bolt had been shot William Tell style and their stuffing knocked out. And so it proved 26 seconds later when the final buzzer blared forth to end the canine misery. They would have to return to the frozen wastes of the north without the playoff laurels. But never mind, they had the NIHL North 1 league title under their belt. Who from the days of Donkey Payette would have thought them capable of winning a league title? Not I for one, but they had.

As for Bison they progressed into the final to face of the Telford Tigers, not the Wayne Sholes millions version, but the loose change version as they have become. Who would prevail? I don’t know why I’m asking that question – we all know.