Essex Men Fail to Raid the Bison Larder

Bison 5 London/Romford Raiders 2

29/9/18

Holy guacamole what a feisty encounter. The Raiders, who were once the Romford Raiders, then the London Raiders and now just the Raiders, captained by ex-Bison hero Aaron “Billy” Connolly, came to Planet Ice seeking to get the Bison league programme off to a disappointing start. They failed, despite a robust attempt, as you, dear reader, will learn, albeit without any guarantee of accuracy, if you read the following humble account of the night’s proceedings.

So without further preambulation, let us journey to the 12th minute of P1. Basses can be double. So can cream, entendres, jeopardy and trouble (just ask the Clash about that last one). So it would seem can be hooking or at least in the eyes of Referee Evans, who would end the evening a discredited figure in certain spectatorial circles. On 12:27 a shrill blast from Mr. Evans’s Acme Thunderer called proceedings to a halt. Dr Russ Cowley and Blahoslav Novak had ended up in an untidy heap on the ice. (By the way is Doc Cowley a medical doctor or a PhD. Does anyone know? If it’s the latter I won’t ask him about my gammy knee). 2 minutes hooking to each.

Play continued and just before the expiry of the penalties Coach Tait found himself in possession of the puck behind the goal line. He could find no-one in front of the net to receive his killer pass until….. the doors of the penalty boxes opened and out came Cowley and Novak. The latter rejoined the play like a laggardly sluggard, whereas the former skated back into action like a cheetah on speed and as if his life depended on it. Perhaps he thought it did. Tait found the pass and the Doc, having left Novak floundering in his wake like a beached whale, sent a wrist shot arrowing into the net. 1-0 Bison and 14:35 on the clock.

3 minutes later it was 2-0. Liam “Square Sausage” Morris, whose father Frank Morris escaped from Alcatraz in 1962 (see footnote), skated in and then out in front of goal before backhandedly jabbing the puck past a startled Michael Gray, hapless custodian of the Raiders’ cage. Adam Jones and Sam Smith were declared assistants for the goal. Jones? Smith? Sounds like a pair of pseudonyms to me.

And without further scoring the period ended. 2-0 to Bison and a shot count of 19-6 in their favour. What could possibly go wrong?

P2 opened and on 24:57 something did go wrong. George Norcliffe caught Dangerous Dan Scott with a high stick. The Raiders fans, in front of whom the incident had occurred, may have considered that this was a deed so malodorous and malevolent that 10 years on Devil’s Island would have been an appropriate punishment, as they observed with horror corpuscular material gushing from the side of Scott’s face. Would he even live? Of course – we are talking about Dan Scott who would require nothing more than an Elastoplast for a broken leg. Up went the referee’s hands. Was he trying to climb an imaginary rope? No. High sticks 5 + match for Norcliffe.

Here was the Raiders’ opportunity – a 5 minute power play. Well they couldn’t even get a worthwhile shot on goal during the first 3 minutes of the PP and very nearly conceded a shortie as an in on goal Dangling Dick Bordowski forced a save from Gray. But then the Bison house came tumbling down like a 20 storey sky scraper built over a sinkhole. In 18 seconds of play the score went from 2-0 to 2-2. Ooo Betty. First Aaron “Billy” Connolly cut in from the right wing and unleashed a wrist shot for 2-1. Liam Chong and Dan Scott were the assistants (it was an all Bison old boys goal). Then a neat move through the middle of the Bison D ended with Jake Sylvester smashing home. Connolly and Scott were the assistants. Damn those Bison alumni.

Things were in the ascendancy for the Raiders, but not for long. Their hopes of reaching infinity and beyond stayed as unfulfilled as those of Buzz Lightyear. Slash has many meanings, one of which is “to make slits in a garment to show an underlying fabric”. That’s not what happened on 31:21. It was more a case of “to lay about someone with sharp, sweeping strokes”. And that is what Referee Evans adjudged Brandon Ayliffe to have done. “It’s a stretch of solitary for you, me old China,” said Mr. Evans. And off to the box went Aycliffe to reflect on the consequences of his appalling conduct, albeit not for long as within 8 seconds of play the Gray pipes had been breached once more, plunging the hapless goaltender and possibly also Ayliffe into a state of funereal perturbation. Coach Tait fired in a pass from the left wing to Alex Sampford in front of goal. On August 11^th 1911 the most audacious heist in the history of art took place when Vincenzo Perugia stole the Mona Lisa from the Louvre (see footnote 2). Just as the Mona Lisa had gone missing on that day in August 1911, so the Raiders D also went missing on 31:29 of P2, leaving Alex Sampford to backhand the puck past Gray. Opinions varied as to whether the puck had gone in through a hole in the side netting. Certainly there was a hole, just as there were 4,000 holes in Blackburn, Lancashire, according to the Beatles, which had to be subsequently repaired, but the Evans hand remained flat and netwardsly pointing. “It was a good goal”, declared Mr Evans. He would have staked his life on it, but was not called to do so. An assist also to Danny Ingoldsby. 3-2 Bison.

Repairs to the net were made by Lino Strain, who I presume must have learned knot tie-ing in the Scouts. Was it a sheepshank, a clove hitch or a reef knot that he expertly executed with his piece of string? I can throw no light on that, but I can say that the net held for the rest of the game.

P2 ended and P3 opened. The final epoch was to be one littered with penalties, strange refereeing decisions and a fight. Before I relate the disgraceful and indeed malevolent affair of the most violent variety which was the fight, I will tell you that a Bison goal was scored on 46:06 or rather it wasn’t. A Jay King shot came in. It hit the goaltender, looped up and there on the doorstep was Dangling Dick Bordowski, who dangled his twig and put it in. However, although the goal was initially given, it was chalked off, marked off, struck off, washed off, scrubbed off, rubbed out, wiped out, weeded out, crossed out, abolished, annulled, deleted, erased, cancelled, voided, eliminated and called “no”, not to mention purged, obliterated and expunged from the records or at least it would have been had it been recorded at all. Why? Who can tell?

On to the fight, which occurred in the 51^st minute. I was looking elsewhere at the time, but I was assured by the Man with 3 Ear-rings that Callum Wells attempted to cut down Adam Jones like a lumberjack felling a tree by wildly swinging his stick into the back of the innocent D-man. Perhaps he should have shouted “TIMBER!” whilst doing so. Down went sticks, off came gloves and hats. The pugilists squared up to each other as in the picture below. The crowd bayed for blood. Was it going to be like a scene from Django Unchained? Nothing short of an unfettered orgy of blood and guts violence was what they needed to satisfy their unnatural animalistic craving. Alas no. The pugilistic encounter was over very quickly with Wells the victor, leaving the Bison crowd wallowing in a cesspool of unfulfilled blood lust. 2 + 2 for fighting each.

Things were getting angry. Tempers were fraying, just like the string of the goal nets. What would happen next? The answer is that Bison sealed the victory with 2 quickfire goals in 34 seconds in the 53^rd minute. In a 4 on 4 on 53:16 Coach Tait assisted by Doc Cowley brought down his lumber and leathered the rubber into the stringbag via the metalwork. The net had stood firm. We expected it to disintegrate sending showers of perished string scattering to the ice, but this did not occur. 4-2 Bison.

The 5^th goal was kickass as far as Bison were concerned fo’shizzle and a kick in the unmentionables as far as the Raiders were concerned. It was all but over. And so it proved with the game proceeding to a conclusion without further scoring. Back to Essex went the Raiders, having failed to raid. Top Bananas were elected – Connolly for the Raiders and Sampford for Bison.

Footnote 1 : In 1962 Frank Morris (that's him below) and the Anglin brothers executed an audacious escape from island prison Alcatraz in inflatable rubber dinghies made of glued together raincoats. They were never seen again. OK that Frank Morris wasn’t Liam’s dad. He was another Frank Morris.

Footnote 2 : Theft of the Mona Lisa. On August 11th 1911 Vincenzo Perugia (that’s him below) hid in the Louvre until it closed for the night. He then removed the Mona Lisa, also known as La Gioconda, from its frame. When the gallery reopened he simply walked out with the painting under his smock, attracting no attention. He was caught and the painting recovered 2 years later when he contacted a Florence art dealer in attempt to claim a 500,000 lire reward for returning the Mona Lisa to Italy.

Dogs Lack Bark and Bite

Bison 6 Sheffield Steeldogs 2

15/9/18

I have always thought that the Steeldogs is a naff name for a team from Sheffield. I mean steel yes – city of steel after all. But dogs? There is no connection between steel and dogs except for Doctor Who’s rover K9 (thank you for pointing that out Man with 3 Ear-rings), although I think he was made of aluminium. Had they sought my advice when branding in 2010, I would have suggested a much more steel relevant name, such as the Sheffield RSJs. Or maybe the Sheffield Bessemer Converters – a nice ring to that one. Or maybe, to honour the predominant industry of the city the Sheffield Cutlery. Or, reflecting their sponsorship partners the Bradfield Brewery, the Sheffield Binge Drinkers. But no my opinion was not sought. So they ended up with a naff name. And on the strength of last night’s performance in this Autumn Cup season opener they have a naff team as well.

 The scoreline might suggest it was all wine and roses for Bison, but it wasn’t. Indeed no. The opening 7:45 proved to be nothing short of cataclysmic disaster for the homesters – perhaps not of earthquake, typhoon or volcano eruption magnitude, but it was definitely high on the Ooo Betty scale. It involved the concession of a power play goal and then a short handed goal to plunge the homesters into a 2-0 deficit and send their loyal fans spiralling downwards into a cesspool of defeatism as they reached for the Prozac in an attempt to overcome their feelings of anxiety and hopelessness.

The first canine goal came on 3:08. 30 seconds earlier Tom Ralph, not to be confused with Tom Relph, who is someone completely different and who was playing for the Dogs, was adjudged to have interfered, although with whom I did not see. My failure to identify the victim, however, matters not a jot. All we need to know is that Referee Evans put his pealess Fox 40 Classic (or whatever whistle he uses) to his lips and caused a shrill blast to emanate therefrom. “Oi geezer!” he shouted at Ralph. “Get down the steps, matey”. And down the steps, or rather up one, went the hapless D-man. 30 seconds later Ben Morgan and Ashley Calvert combined to set up Duncan Speirs in front of the crease and he slipped the puck past Sheffield born Alex Mettam in the Bison net. 1-0 Dogs.

On 5:47 Tom Barry was called for charging, albeit not in a monetary sense of the word, and into the house of correction he went. Now was Bison’s chance to pull level. Alas much to the chagrin of the loyal home fans i.e. those who haven’t defected to watch the Bracknell Bison this season, which seems to be 99.9% of them, they not only failed to do that, but they fell further behind to a short handed goal. Within only 2 seconds of the power play left a giveaway saw Nathan Salem break away, deke and slide the puck past Mettam. 2-0 Dogs. Oh bloody.

As far as the flat cap wearing, whippet owning, dale rambling men from Yorkshire were concerned, that was the high water mark. Bison well and truly pulled the plug on their hopes of victory to send those hopes draining through the plughole never to be seen again. How? They pilfered two quick fire goals in the 9^th minute and a 3^rd before the period ended in an audacious display of larceny, which topped even Captain Blood’s seizure of the Crown Jewels in 1671, to surge into a lead they never surrendered, as I shall relate, dear reader, so don’t go off to make a cup of tea but pray read on.

On 9:17 Tom Ralph, as opposed to Tom Relph, fired the puck netwardsly from just inside the blue line. Brandon Stones in the Dogs’ net may have had the shot covered, but he didn’t bargain for the action of Coach Ashley Tait, who thrust his lumber into the path of the puck and deflected it past the hapless Stones. The net bulged as did Stones’s eyes. 2-1 Dogs and hope for the Basingstoke icemen.

Things went from bad to worse for the canine netman 33 seconds later. Screws can be loose, cannons can be loose, women can be loose. In this case it was the puck which was loose. Loose as a goose in fact. Where you ask? In the blue paint in fact. Stones had failed to freeze it and Richard Bordowski squeezed it past him for an unassisted goal, much to the lament of the netman, who stopped short of actually singing a lament or at least I couldn’t hear him doing that from Block C. 2-2 and all to play for.

On 16 minutes precisely Bison went stratospheric and grabbed the lead. It was turning into an Ooo Matron evening. This time it was Liam “Square Sausage” Morris (how did he get that nickname – anyone know?) with a pass from behind the goal line to find Bison skipper Russ Cowley in front of the net. Where was the Dogs’ D? I can throw no light on that except to say they were nowhere to be seen. Cowley dragged the puck across the face of the crease and delayed his shot until a committed Stones was down on the ice, up the swanny (see footnote 3) and out of the equation. He looked in horror as Cowley slid the puck past him and across the goal line. Stones couldn’t see the goal light illuminating, but he must have heard the crowd bursting into a vociferous expression of their approbation, the surest indication to him that he had been undone. 3-2 Bison. Second assist to Dangling Dick Bordowski.

The period ended with no further scoring, but there was another goal more or less as soon as P2 opened – on 20:56 to be precise. In came a shot which was blocked or saved (sorry I can’t be more precise than that). The puck was picked up by a Dogs’ D-man. Take some corned beef, onions, tomato, potato, baked beans, marmite (optional) and fry them up together in a wok and then bake on the middle shelf in the oven at Gas Mark 6 for roughly half an hour until the top has started to crisp. What do you have? Why corned beef hash of course. There is one word in “corned beef hash” which accurately describes the D-man’s attempt to clear the puck and it’s not corned or beef. It was a pig’s ear, a bungling blunder and a chunderous blooper all rolled into one. It enabled Dangling Dick Bordowski to seize the puck, which previously wasn’t, but which had become loose as a result of the D-man’s ineptitude. The Czech chap fired it past a despairing Stones, who immediately made a mental note to cross the D-man off his Christmas card list. He, the latter, had been a contributor to Stones ending the night with a chunderous 0.75 save percentage (OK that’s a decimal I know). Assist to Morris. 4-2 Bison.

The Bison goal machine was not done and on 37:07 the Dogs were undone, but thankfully not in the flies department. And this goal was one of great spectacularity. It was almost an all Scottish affair with Jay King and Liam Morris involved. Alas Tom Ralph, who is English not Scottish, was also involved, so it wasn’t. But never mind. A wing pass from mid ice by Ralph or King (not sure which) set Morris away. He cut in from the right wing and lined up his sights on goal. There was no need for Bison assistant coach Tosh Redmond, the arena lights glinting off his bald head, to shout instructions to Morris in Gaelic. He knew exactly what to do. He suddenly whipped a wrist shot goalwards. Had Stones possessed the physical attributes of a London bus he could have blocked the goal completely. But he didn’t and couldn’t and Morris’s shot found the gap between the hapless custodian and the goal frame. 5-2 Bison.

That concluded the scoring in P2 and so into P3 we passed. Could Bison start the period in the same explosive style as they had started P2? Yes they could. Within 38 seconds it was 6-2. Coach Tait fired in a shot which Stones did well to save. During the battle for Stalingrad in 1942/3 Russian mice (“specially trained” some poppycock spouting conspiracy theorists say) rendered tanks of the German 22^nd Panzer Division immobile by gnawing through the insulation on electric cables inside the tanks as they were parked up in reserve. The Dogs’ D appeared as immobile as those German tanks as they failed to pick up Hallam Wilson at the back door. He forced the puck past a by now suicidal Stones for the final score of the night.

On 54:53 Tim Smith, not the one who is on the Steve Wright show on Radio 2 (see below), and Liam Morris were involved in an unseemly altercation, which resulted in match penalties for both. Butt ending, roughing and fighting were involved.

The Dogs were unable to pull off a Lazarus-esque come back and with 60:00 on the clock the final buzzer blared forth to bring to an end an evening of bizarre officiating with Mr. Evans giving articulation to several somewhat creative rule interpretations. Never mind – it hadn’t prevented Bison from grabbing the laurel wreath. Top Bananas were elected – Andrew Hirst was considered top dog and Richard Bordowski outstanding Bison.

Footnote 1 : RSJ stands for rolled steel joist.

Footnote 2 : The Bessemer Converter and process was patented by Henry Bessemer (that’s the geezer and his industrial behemoth below) in 1856. If Wikipedia is to be believed (yeah right) it was the first inexpensive industrial method for the mass production of steel from molten pig iron. Air is blown through the molten iron to oxidise impurities which separate out to form a slag on the surface of the molten iron. Now you know.

Footnote 3 : Up the Swanny without a paddle. Swanny is a nickname for the 246 miles long Suwanee river in South Georgia/Florida.