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 2nd 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"....
yawn
ReplyDeleteGlad you enjoyed it.
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