Exposed Goaltenders Scrub Names off their Christmas Card Lists

Bison 5 Invicta Dynamos 3

22/12/18

Last night’s game proved to be one which both goaltenders will wish to forget. Dan “The Beast” Weller–Evans played well in the Bison net but, due to hideousness on the D, was left exposed on several occasions and saw his save percentage undersevedly gurgling down the plug hole. The Mos brought with them Conor Morris, one of several Scottish netminders in the NIHL, to guard their pipes. By the end of the evening the Caledonian pipes protector, also let down by his D, had become a disconsolate figure with a broken stick and a melancholy demeanour. His team had fallen like a factory chimney demolished by Fred Dibnah.

Much to everyone’s surprise it was the Mos who drew first blood, thankfully not literally. Jake Stedman set up Owen Dell with a tap in after his shot had been saved by the pad of Dan “The Beast”. Time stood still and the crowd watched in Prozac popping anguish as the puck hit the netman’s pad and then trickled in a tantalisingly slow manner across the goal line towards the back stick. Dell dealt the final blow and poked the biscuit over the aforesaid line. With a heavy heart Honest Pete illuminated his goal light. 1-0 Invicta.

On 9:40 parity was restored. Tom “Wreck-it” Ralph sent George “Gordon” Norcliffe away. He hammered forward faster than the Wells Fargo stagecoach from Deadwood with its team of horses at full gallop and Calamity Jane riding shotgun. He then unleashed one. Morris got a piece of it, but, alas for the kilted custodian, it was a piece not large enough and the biscuit slid slowly across the line. It was Gordon’s 4^th goal in 3 games. He has a hot stick at the moment. 1-1.

Bison surged into the lead on 16:42, but in a manner most unpreferable as it resulted in an injury to goaltender Morris, who remained down and damaged for several minutes after Pilot Officer Paul Petts had shaken off his bandits and propelled the puck over the line from a rebounded saved shot by Morris from Oscar Evans. With no back up goalie the Mos were desperate for their Caledonian shot stopper to recover. Finally he did just that and, as he got to his feet, he was greeted by generous applause from the home fans, unlike at certain other rinks, which shall remain nameless, where injured players are greeted with jeers and shouts of “CHEAT!” But hey! Let’s not get too heavy here.  We will move on from the discussion on generosity of spirit. Thankfully Morris was able to continue to the end of the period, although looking a little shaky, and seemed to be back to rude health thereafter. Oh yes I forgot to mention Coach Ashley Tait was awarded an assist for the goal. 2-1 Bison.

P1 closed and P2 opened and it was to prove a pernicious period provoking pulsating petulance, peevishness and pique in the camp of the home team. They laid siege to the Mos’ goal, but to no avail. Lester Gillis aka Baby Face Nelson (that’s him below) was a notorious bank robber and murderer, who was drilled full of slugs in a shoot out with the FBI on 27^th November 1934 and, perhaps unsurprisingly, kicked the bucket as a result. Not even he, firing a Tommy gun from the hip, could have made a better job of peppering the visitors’ goal. Bison blasted away at the Kentish net with no fewer than 22 shots in the period, but Morris proved equal to all of them. Things were not such a bowl of cherries at the other end, however, where 2 hideous lapses on the D gave the Mos 2 goals and had goaltender Dan “The Beast” furiously scribbling names off his Christmas card list.

The first chunderous error on the Bison D occurred on 28:42. Slack defending saw Mos work a smart move between Anthony Leone and Ondrej Zosiak, which resulted in the finding of, not the lost city of Atlantis, nor Captain Kidd’s treasure nor even the Ark of the Covenant, but instead a spare man in front of goal, namely Owen Dell, scorer of the 1^st Kentish goal. The Bison D treated him like they were a bunch of rabbis and he was a ham sandwich at a bar mitzvah. No-one touched him. He rifled the puck past Dan “The Beast”, who had no chance, no hope and no salvation. 2-2. 

“OK so they have equalised. They won’t get another,” may have been the thoughts of some of the Bison backers at this point. However, a minute and a half later their confident assessment was to plunge into the ravine of doom as a chunderous giveaway saw Brandon Miles in the clear. He charged forward from the neutral zone. He couldn’t have moved forward faster than if he had been Postman Pat being pursued by the hound of the Baskervilles. He rifled the biscuit past a hung out to dry Dan “The Beast” and it was 2-3 Invicta. Lewis English (son of Johnny?) was awarded an assist for the goal.

From a Bison perspective, to fall behind was as undesirable as the scrapings from the bottom of Tutenkhamun’s sarcophagus. At once Coach Tosh Redmond called a time out. He may have said to the assembled players, “Shape up on the D, ya wee beasties, d’ ye ken? Ye dinna want me ta skelp yer wee banoochies, eh?” I will refrain from giving a translation as I would not wish to be responsible for an outpouring of public outrage. However, you may Google a Scottish to English translator if you wish.

 

During the interval between P2 and P3 the Che Guevara impersonator offered the opinion that surely the Mos would tire with only 13 skaters. The Man with 3 Ear-rings, wallowing in a cess pool of pessimism, said “I’ve got some more straws for you to clutch at here.” But, as it transpired, the Argentinian revolutionary (Che wasn't Cuban you know) was right (perhaps he does know something about hockey after all) as the 3^rd belonged all to Bison. A 2-3 deficit was turned around into a 5-3 win, so pray read on, dear reader, as, if you are a Bison backer currently drowning in a sea of dejection, having read the pervious paragraphs, the remainder of this humble report will lift your spirits.

P3 opened. On 41:50 Jake Stedman was thrown in the can for slashing. A mere 10 seconds into the power play there was a levelling score. The puck was cycled round to Adam Jones, who cracked an Ooo Mr. Rigsby slapshot towards goal. Morris was equal to it, but, much to his very grave chagrin, the rebounded biscuit went straight to Michal Klenja, who had an empty net to aim at. The wedding scene in the 1967 musical film “Half a Sixpence” featured the song “Flash, Bang, Wallop!”, which included the lyrics “flash, bang, wallop, what a picture, what a photograph, poor old soul, blimey what a joke, hat blown off in a cloud of smoke”. Part of this is what we then saw i.e. the flash, bang, wallop of Klejna’s clapper, if not the smoke or the blowing off of Morris’s hat. 3-3.

Not content with being on level terms, Bison bagged a go ahead goal shortly after – on 45:43 to be precise. It was a move of mammoth-esque purpleness finished by a shot of spanking spectacularity. Doc Cowley passed to Coach Tait. He advanced forward up the right wing across the blue line and whipped a pass inside to Klejna. Remember Hot Lips Houlihan from “MASH”? That's her below of course. Well I can pass no opinion as to whether or not Klejna has hot lips, but he most definitely does have a hot stick, which he used to whip a sizzling top shelf wrist shot past a by now despairing Morris. 4-3 Bison.

On 49:50 Bison put the boot in and bagged another. It wasn’t dissimilar to their 3^rd goal. On this occasion Alex Sampford set up Oscar Evans for the shot. His clapper was saved by Morris, but alas for him the puck dropped at the feet of Dangling Dick Bordowski. He didn’t bother with a dithering dangle or deke or a pussyfooting poke or prod or even a wavering waffle or whack, but instead rose to the occasion and clappered a humdinger into the wide open net. 5-3 Bison.

But the Mos were not done yet and were desperately seeking ways of getting past the Bison D, now recovered from their ineptitude of P2, and firing in shots on Dan “The Beast”. Their aspirations in this regard were dealt a body blow on 55:09 when robust D-man Arran Strawson, proved he is no man of straw by over robustly slashing and ending up having his collar felt. On his re-emergence into civilised society 2 minutes later, doubtless feeling pain, embarrassment and contrition for his misdemeanour, less than 3 minutes remained on the clock and it wasn’t looking good for the undynamic Dymanos. By now the Mos’ chances of winning the game, which, at the end of P2, had looked semi-rosy to those unaware of the Bison’s propensity to record come from behind wins, were falling like that factory chimney demolished by Fred Dibnah (see above). With only 13 skaters they were visibly done in and a comeback from this losing position seemed as unlikely as Fatty Arbuckle riding a dray horse to victory in the Grand National. That dietarily challenged gentleman is illustrated below.

The final buzzer sounded and the Mos had lost, but by a respectable score it has to be said. Top bananas were elected. 2 goal Owen Dell was adjudged to have been the best Mo and 2 goal Michal Klejna went forward with his characteristic kneeling twirl to receive the beers for his team

As we waited for the final formalities to be formalised netman Morris broke his stick. I was looking elsewhere at the time and cannot confirm whether it was a deliberate act carried out in a fit of uncontrollable rage or whether by leaning heavily on the stick he had uncovered a previously unknown flaw and the stick had given way. Suffice it to say that he looked as miserable as sin on the skate past the fans, surely not a sore loser, but probably feeling the pain of the loss of his favourite stick.

Faulty Fumbling Phantoms Flounder and Fail Falteringly

Bison 4 Peterborough Phantoms 3 (shoot out)

15/12/18

“The concrete and the clay beneath my feet begins to crumble, but love will never die, because we’ll see the mountains tumble before we say goodbye.” So sang Unit 4+2 in their song “Concrete and Clay”, which reached no. 1 in April 1965. Anyone remembering that and wishing to wallow in nostalgia open the clip at the end of this report. Last night we saw lots of crumbling and tumbling, but not of concrete, clay or mountains, but of the Peterborough Phantoms. They are the best team in the league and they will win the league this season ….. unless they do what they did at Planet Ice last night i.e. fall apart. A similar capitulation occurred last season in Bisonland when the Phantoms snatched defeat from the jaws of victory letting a P3 2-0 advantage slip to a 3-4 loss, a ruinous overthrowing which was a major contributory factor to their blowing of the title. By the end of last night’s game they had gone from cruising at 3-0 to the good with less than 7 minutes left, while completely outplaying a stuttering Bison, to being on the end of a crushing, ignominious, calamitous, lamentable, pernicious, disastrous and debacular down casting, which made their structural integrity look like a house after the San Francisco earthquake of 1906 (see below).

P1 belonged to the poltergeists from Peterborough. They bagged a couple and, as they left the ice, one of their players was heard to remark to another, “That was easy”. The words bum, back, bite and come spring to mind, but not necessarily in that order. But he was right it had been as easy like Sunday morning, as Lionel Richie once told us. Goal no. 1 arrived with their 2^nd shot on goal. Chris Cooke failed to stop Martins Susters on a charge up the left wing. This was hardly surprising as there are 4 Martins Susters, as we know, and 4 on 1 isn’t very fair. One of the Susters fired in a shot. Alex “Mittens” Mettam saved, but the rubberoid rebound dribbled invitingly in front of the net for James White to smashed in. Mettam’s save percentage had gone from “not applicable” to 100% to 50% all in the blink of an eye. 0-1 Phantoms and only 1:30 on the clock. Oh bother.

On 3:07 Pilot Officer Paul Petts fell foul of the law. He perpetrated a trip. “I’m sending you to Alcatraz,” was what Referee Matthews may have thought, but he couldn’t so instead he sent Petts down the steps and up the river to serve 2 minutes porridge in the slammer. The Phantoms took advantage and bagged a second. The puck broke to Stepanek in the slot. Slap. Goal. Susters (all 4 of them) and Corey McEwan were awarded assists. I thought you could only have 2 assists per goal not 5. 0-2 Phantoms. Oh fiddlesticks.

Coach Redmond called a time out. Whatever it was he said worked because P1 ended with no further scoring from the wraithlike visitors. P2 opened and Bison seemed to be getting worse and worse as the period ground on. There was only 1 goal in the period, this occurring as a result of a piece of hideousness on the D with a line change or rather a player, who I shall decline to name to save his blushes, leaving the ice before his replacement was ready to come on. As a result there was a 2 on 0, which ended with a Nathan Pollard clapper dislodging the Mettam water bottle. Assists to Tom Norton and Rob Ferrara. 0-3 and surely curtains for Bison. Oh bloody.

Much to the relief of the Bison backers P2 ended, but alas for them P3 opened and we were treated to more of the same with the Phantoms dominating. Desperate for a Bison goal the Man with 3 Ear-rings said to the Man in the Charlestown Chiefs shirt, “if I mention the “S” word will that jinx the Phantoms?” “Probably not,” said the latter, but what does he know? So “SHUTOUT” remained unuttered, but, lo and behold, seconds later ghostly netminder Jordan Marr’s chances of a shutout were marred somewhat – well scattered to the four points of the compass actually. On 53:15 Alex Sampford found himself at the top of the crease with his back towards goal. He swivelled like the ballerina on top of a jewellery box (see below). His movement may have been like one, but thankfully his attire was not – I mean Samps in a tutu? Ooo er Missus. He propelled the puck in a netwards direction. Marr was taken completely by surprise and the puck raced through his 5-hole before he could close said aperture. Michal Klejna and Oscar Evans were declared assistants for the goal. 1-3.

Oh well at least a consolation goal. Or was it? Red Leader in Block B, imbued with an almost drug induced surge of euphoria, adrenalizing him towards a previously unachievable state of Nirvana, was now confident Bison would come back to win the game. The bandits were going belly up. They’d flipped a waspy and would have to ditch their kites in the drink after dropping the cabbages in the briney from angels one-five. (Eh? Don’t ask me what that means. Ask him).

“OK so they got a goal. Nothing for us to worry about,” thought the table topping spectres. But actually it was because 49 seconds later Bison bagged another. Eton Mess is a dessert made from a combination of strawberries, meringue and cream. What we saw in front of the wraiths’ net was a mess of a totally different variety – a defensive mess as Hallum Wilson found George “Gordon” Norcliffe at the top of the crease. The Phantoms’ attempts to protect their goal had proved both chunderous and blunderous. Gordon shot, picked up the rebound from Marr’s desperate save and squeezed the puck, as pips would be squeezed from a lemon, over the line. Marr’s eyes bulged as if he had been squeezed. 2-3.

Proving the adage “death can be fatal”, General Fentiman died of digitalis poisoning in the Dorothy L. Sayers’s 1928 murder mystery “The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club”. Here we had seen something similar – not murder, no dead generals, no poison, but a lot of unpleasantness in the Phantoms D. Coach Koulikov called a time out. “Ok so they’ve got a couple. Nothing for us to worry about,” was the last thing the Phantoms were thinking at this juncture. Did the coach need to merely state the bleedin’ obvious - “Don’t let in another goal”. It is to be hoped he went further, delivering detailed instructions on how to achieve that objective, but, if he did, either they weren’t listening or they lacked the ability to carry out those instructions because let in another goal was exactly what they did. From a Phantoms perspective, this was very unpleasant – Dorothy L. Sayers would have been impressed.

 The East Anglian apparitionals didn’t have to walk through walls to bag the points, but they did have 5:54 to make sure there were no calamities. Bison had other ideas. They stepped up a gear – they looked a new team. The clock ran down with less than 2 minutes remaining as Mettam looked to the bench expecting to be pulled at any time. Suddenly on 58:13 James Ferrara, captain of the Potty incorporeal beings, scaled new heights of ludicrosity by perpetrating a glaringly obvious trip. To commit such a hideous felony and, in doing so, make your team go short handed with less than 2 minutes remaining was insanity. Had Ferrara undergone an extraordinary metamorphosis and pupated into a raving lunatic? This was not the type of example you would want from your skipper. Having clearly gone round the bend, he now entered the house of correction thus obviating the need for Bison to pull Mettam. The homesters piled on the pressure and the agony, if not the pounds. Could they make the East Anglian eidolons, who were by now quivering with self doubt, crack like a house in the San Francisco earthquake of 1906? Yes they could. With less than a minute to play Adam Jones slewed an Ooo Mr. Rigsby pass to set up Coach Tait for a clapper. Thwack! Lumber met rubber and the puck rocketed towards Marr. “I can save this,” thought the Caledonian netfellow. And he may indeed have been able to, but, much to his chagrin, Doc Cowley, lurked with a dangling twig and he deflected the biscuit past the kilted custodian. 3-3. Oh haggis.

Overtime loomed and duly arrived. It was played out with no victor decided. And so to the nail biting, heart attack inducing trauma of a penalty shoot out. The first 2 shots were saved. Bison’s second was scored as Klejna ripped a snipe top shelf past a melancholy and morbidly morose Marr. Ales Padelek was next up for the Phantoms. He decided to shoot for the corner of the rink rather than the goal and achieved his objective. Next up was Coach Tait. A score would end the contest. He accelerateded in from the left and unleashed one. We heard a metallic clunk as the puck hit Marr’s right hand post, chips of paint flew into the air, the net shimmered and the goal light illuminated, giving rise to a crowd eruption. Had they been present and Bison fans Abraham Lincoln, Slash, Harpo Marx, Ismbard Kingdom Brunel, Fred Astaire and Marcel Marceau and would have thrown their top hats into the air. If they had been Phantoms fans and at 3-0 and cruising had said, “if we lose this game, I’ll eat my hat” – well oh dear.

Bison had won a very unlikely victory. Top bananas were elected. The Phantoms choice was all 4 of the Martins Susters and best Bison was judged to have been Alex Sampford.

Don't forget to watch "Concrete and Clay"....

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zstZkoGyZS4

Redhawks’ Aspirations Take Flight

Bison 5 Streatham Redhawks 1

8/12/18

The visitors to Planet Ice last night were the Streatham Redhawks. They may now be politically correctly named, but their drummers are not PC, spending half the evening banging out the repetitive Native American drumbeat, for which they are renowned. But what the hell – it’s all part of the rich tapestry of British hockey.

P1 saw a lively opening as the Redhawks tried to catch Bison cold, but as the period wore on they faded somewhat. Not enough to go into the interval behind. Oh no. Quite the opposite, as I shall relate.

As the period lurched towards a conclusion the Redhawks snatched a go ahead goal, Adam Wood netting with a superbly placed top shelf snipe on 17:35. It was announced as an unassisted goal, but the official game sheet declared that Alex Roberts, not to be confused with Julia Roberts, and Ben Russell, not to be confused with Russell Crowe, had helped, so who knows? But what we do know is that it was 1-0 Redhawks. BOOM-boom-boom-boom- BOOM-boom-boom-boom beat their drummers.

A minute later an unsavoury incident occurred. Paul Petts cross checked Michael Farn, who then set about his assailant and there ensued a scene similar to that illustrated below.

Petts, the last person you would call violent thug, held Farn in a headlock to prevent himself from being punched. “Ooo that’s roughing,” said Referee Belfitt. Oh really? So with Farn also called for roughing, the Redhawks ended up on a powerplay, but for only 10 seconds as Rupert Quiney hauled down Michal Klejna in centre ice, this being a necessary evil as the Slovak fellow would have been away and in on goal otherwise. Cynicism prevailed and Quniey sent Klejna tumbling to the ice like a felled Spruce Pine. He might at least have shouted "TIMBER!" So this meant 4 on 4 for 1:50, straddling the period break, and then 10 seconds of power play for Bison. 5 seconds into that 10 seconds Bison made it count. Coach Tait supplied a pass to Michal Klenjna, the same Michal Klenjna who had so unceremoniously hauled to the ice by Quiney, as I have already mentioned. The Slovak fellow’s stick came down and we heard the crack of limber on rubber as the clapper was delivered. The puck flew high into the net with the speed, if not the trajectory, of a rocket propelled grenade. Not even the Berlin wall could have stopped it, which is hardly surprising as it no longer exists. Goaltender Damien King does, however, exist, but he displayed as much ability to stop the puck as a demolished Berlin wall. 1-1.

Then on 25:00 (or as the speaking clock would have said – at the third stroke it will be 25 minutes precisely) Bison snatched the lead. Seconds after a Redhawks’ penalty served by Tom Beesley, not to be confused with Ron Weasley, had expired. Coach Tait found Adam Jones at the hash marks to the goaltender’s right. On this occasion the Redhawks’ defending was bungled, botched and bollixed (no that’s not a mis-spelling of a rude word – look it up in the dictionary – it’s a real word). So bollixed in fact that Jones was all alone and had all the time in the world to pick his spot. That spot was the top corner of the net which he found with an Ooo Mr. Rigsby wrist shot. 2-1 Bison. A second assist went to George “Gordon” Norcliffe.

After the worst possible P2 you could imagine when Bison played the Raiders two weeks ago, this P2 was turning out rather better. Despite dominating the rest of the period, however, Bison could not bring further employment to the goal judge behind the Redhawks’ net and the period ended at 2-1.

P3 opened and we were initially treated to more of the same until a flurry of penalties resulted in a prolonged 5 on 3 powerplay. But I jump ahead. Let us go back to 1:18 into the period. Canadian Alex Roberts, who once played a solitary game for the peculiarly named Flin Flon Bombers (look that up on Elite Prospects if you don’t believe me), executed a hook and sent Klejna crashing to the ice like a sack of Kings Edwards. Luckily for Roberts the referee was not Hanging Judge Jeffreys on this occasion. (Hanging Judge who? See footnote). It was 2 minutes in the penalty box for him. No need to erect a gallows and fetch a rope. But the Canadian’s misdemeanour was to prove fatal for his team, as I shall relate.

1:22 into the power play the puck was circulated around from Alex Sampford to Doc Cowley until it reached Tom “Wreck-it” Ralph in the slot. The Redhawks might just as well have had Mr. Magoo in the net. He could see nothing because Dangling Dick Bordowski lurked in his line of vision. Wreck-it’s wrist shot wrecked King’s evening as it flew past his head and into the net. 3-1 Bison.

Things were looking good for Bison, but, as we know, a 2 goal lead can be lost in the time it would take the Howling Man to shout “Get your hair cut, Rupert Quniney”. They needed another goal to make the possibility of a Redhawks revival as unlikely as Quiney getting his hair cut. This they bagged on 48:11. Bison broke away in a 3 on 2 odd man rush. Doc Cowley set up Sampford for a shot. He drove the puck goalwards from wide to the goaltender’s right, but, much to his chagrin, King got pad to puck and saved. However, the chagrin of Sampford turned into the chagrin of King in a split second, as the puck deflected away to his left like a bouncing baby straight to the deadly Dangling Dick Bordowski. This was no time for a dangle or a deke. All we needed was a one timer snapper as the net gaped open in front of Bordo like the mouth of a yawning hippopotamus. The Czech chap put lumber to rubber and leathered the biscuit into the stringbag, which held, being the new nets from Canada (I told you about them last week). 4-1 Bison.

Bison were not finished. On 48:52 Oscar Evans was adjudged to have both charged and roughed, thus proving that men can multi-task. Down the steps he went for a 2 + 2, handing the Redhawks with a 4 minute power play. Now was their chance to get back into the game. What happened next was enough to make their coach want to throw in the towel in frustration. A scrimmage on the boards occurred. If you were looking for an example of lumbering, floundering and stumbling ineptitude of the most archetypal quintessentiality, you need look no further than the woefully inadequate efforts of the Redhawks to cover a possible breakaway as they left Klejna all on his own centre ice. It was as if he had just contracted the bubonic plague and was highly contagious as no-one seemed interested in going within a country mile of him. All it needed was Jones to win the puck and supply an Ooo Mr. Rigsby pass inside to the Slovak bloke. This he did. “Should I stay or should I go?” That was the conundrum which faced the Clash in 1981. Klejna was not racked with similar indecision. On receiving Jones’s pass he went for it. His movement in a netwards direction was brisk, lively, rapid and urgent, not apathetic, dilatory, lethargic or ponderous as he bore down on goaltender King. Allow me a soupçon of a digression. What was the first rock ‘n’ roll record? Many say it was Ike Turner’s “Rocket 88” recorded in 1951. But it wasn’t. Oh no Mrs. Recorded in 1949 was Fats Domino’s “The Fat Man”. Now, as you might imagine, Mr. Domino (real name Antoine) was a gentleman of generous proportions (that’s him below), hence his nickname of course, and, had he occupied the Redhawks’ net he may have made a better job of blocking the goal than King, albeit not displaying comparable athleticism and agility. It was all academic as Klejna picked his spot and whipped in a wrist shot which would have beaten even Fats Domino. Coach Tait with the second assist. 5-1 Bison.

P3 played out in a bizarre fashion with so many calls on the homesters, committing a myriad of offences, that they ended up defending a 5 on 3 power play for what was an eternity. I lost track of how long the 5 on 3 was, but it was one of the best PP kills you are ever likely to see. The Redhawks could make no impression whatsoever, for, if they breached the Bison defenses, there was the gigantic Alex "Mittens" Mettam to thwart their aspirations. Minutes later the buzzer sounded to bring an end to the proceedings. The Redhawks’ chances had finally taken flight.

Top bananas were elected. Roberts made off with the Redhawks’ beers and Klejna was raised to the pedestal of best Bison.

Footnote : After Monmouth’s Rebellion of 1685  Judge George Jeffreys was sent to the West Country to conduct the trials of captured rebels. These trials became known as the Bloody Assizes. 1381 defendants were found guilty of treason. How many swung has been estimated at 74-700. People love to exaggerate don’t they?