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?

Bison Swat the Bees

Bison 3 Bracknell Bees 1

1/12/18

Let's not worry about the calories. Take a sticky toffee pud and line it up on plate next to a chocolate and caramel bomb and a slice of raspberry and almond tart. Douse the assembled culinary delights with a generous helping of golden syrup, topped with whipped cream. Then sprinkle a tablespoon of castor sugar over that and plop a cherry on top for good measure. Last night’s Bison victory over the Bracknell Bees/Bison/Beeson or whatever you wish to call them was even sweeter than that for the Bison backers who stayed in Bisonland to support their team, albeit an almost completely new team, through thick and thin, come what may, come rain or shine. For the rather small contingent, who in a display of dastardly and contemptible treachery (sorry I shouldn’t really express an opinion here – what the hell), deserted their team to follow the Beeson instead, this must have been a bitter pill to swallow, not only having to endure the loss, but also an outstanding performance of rib poking by our beloved Bavi – there is no better announcer than this geezer. He seems more biased than even me.

Enough pontificating. Let’s get to the game.

P1 opened and it was to be a cagey 20 minutes – a veritable cat v mouse game of hide and seek. There were no goals, but plenty of penalties, most of them against the Bees. They copped no fewer than 6 x 2 minute minors to Bison’s 1. Referee Matthews was standing for no nonsense and called penalties for interference, delay of game, roughing, tripping and holding. His arm was up and down like a yo-yo. Down the steps the errant Bees felons went, but on each occasion the Bees managed to stifle the Bison power play and it wasn’t looking good for the home team. P1 ended and the visitors had managed to outshoot the homesters by 6-1, but none of those 6 was good enough to find the gaps between Alex “Mittens” Mettam and the Bison goal frame and the score remained at 0-0.

With only a solitary P1 shot to save Bees goaltender, Dean Skinns was looking comfortable. But his save percentage was about to plummet from 100% to 50% as Bison opened the 2^nd with a goal. It was scored off the fag end of the P1 penalty to Ryan “You What” Watt for holding onto Jay King in what looked like a loving embrace and then pulling him to the ice in a most ignominious fashion. Liam “Square Sausage” Morris fired a long pass to Alex Sampford behind the goal line. Ever been caught with your trousers down? Not literally I hope. Metaphorically speaking, that is exactly what happened to Albert Anastasia (that's him below) on October 25th 1957. (Albert who? Why the infamous Mafia crime boss taken by surprise and shot dead by hitmen as he sat in a barber’s chair in the Park Sheraton Hotel, New York. My regular readers will know that because I’ve told you before). In a similar fashion the Bees D were caught with their trousers down as they hadn’t covered Dangling Dick Bordowski at the top of the crease. Sampford found the inch perfect pass to Bordo and the Czech chap put lumber to rubber and sent the puck rocketing into the net, leaving Deano to reach for the Prozac.

More Bees penalties followed – 3 more to be precise. On 25:06 Watt was called for abuse of an official from the bench. We can only speculate as to the content of Watty’s utterance, but he must have let those views be known in a manner most inappropriate. Referee Matthews waved his arms in a strange manner, which must have been the signal for abuse of officials. Watty was sent to the penalty box to reflect on his conduct and hopefully emerge 2 minutes later a repentant and reformed character. He didn’t. A mere 11 seconds elapsed between his liberation and another penalty call on him as he, bursting with pent up frustration, barged into Hallam Wilson in a most improper and indeed impertinent fashion. “Oi geezer,” said Mr. Matthews. “That’s roughing. Get back down the steps you’ve just come up.” Away went Watty. He was spending more time in incarceration than Ronnie Biggs had spent in Wandsworth Prison. And so onto yet another power play went Bison. 1:13 into the 5 on 4 Bison banged in their second, well slid in more like. On 28:30 Michal Klejna and Coach Ashley Tait combined. The inept covering of the Bees’ D was the epitome of shambolic maladroitness. Back in 1966 Georgie Fame told us “Get away - Gotta go - Get away - Got away - Get away - Gotta go - Get away - Gotta go”. That's Georgie on keyboard and vocals below - he may well have been singing "Get away" at the time. Well on this occasion it wasn’t Mr. Fame who got away it was Doc Cowley from the bumbling Bees’ D. The Doc without a D-man to worry him arrowed towards goal from wide left and skinned Skinns, squeezing the puck over the line, possibly via the 5-hole. 2-0 Bison.

Between the 28^th/29^th minutes Bison had to survive a 5 on 3 with Norcliffe and Cowley in the box. In fact they nearly scored a shortie while on 5 on 4 with Morris breaking away like a panther geared up to eyeballs on speed and leaving the Bees D for dead. But Deano was equal to the Caledonian’s shot and it remained 2-0.

However on 34:22 it didn’t remain 2-0. It became 2-1 when Ivan and Vanya Antonov (how I have missed writing about the exploits of the Antonov twins) squeezed the puck past Mettam with David Millner and Shaun Thompson assisting.

Things were about to get rather fruity. An altercation between Liam Morris and Josh Martin occurred on 36:38. We can only hypothesize about what was said. Perhaps Martin was saying he didn’t like the taste of square sausages. Morris took exception and delivered an assault which would not have looked out of place outside a backstreet pub in the Gorbals, namely a head butt. This sparked off an unsavoury altercation of the most virulent variety which included punching, resisting officials, the pushing aside of a linesman. When the steam finally cleared it was 5 + game each and a further match penalty for Morris for the Glasgow kiss. Nothing was doled out for Martin’s pushing aside of an official as the latter wrote it off as accidental. I can assure you, dear reader, that it was far from accidental, but, as it wasn’t called, Bison had to defend a 5 minute power play either side of the period break and this they did, showing a grit and determination to be much admired, least of all from “Mittens” Mettam, who saved the Bison bacon with a crucial save close just before the end of the period.

The killing of not Sister George but the 5 minute PP was the turning point in the game. The Bees became ever more frustrated by a Bison team which seemed to be developing new levels of resilience, steadfastness, determination, resoluteness, indomitability, doggedness, tenacity and resolve. The Bees’ way to goal was being blocked, their assaults beaten back, their efforts baffled and their moves barred. And then on 48:08 their house of cards came tumbling down as Bison breached their defences once more, as I shall relate.

The 3^rd Bison goal was rather similar to the first. This time it was Doc Cowley behind the goal line feeding out in front to Sampford with an exhortation of  “Go on shooter shoot your shot”. Sampford shot his shot, shooting from the hip, and the puck shot past Deano. The Bees had shot themselves in the foot once more, but it was a shot in the arm for Bison. Deano pushed the net off in anger, complaining about something, possibly that the goal (resplendent with a new net obtained at great expense from Canada I am reliably informed) had been nudged off its moorings before the puck went in, but, if it had been, it must have been him who had done it, so poetic justice had been done. Bordowski was adjudged to be worthy of an assist, having supplied the pass to Cowley – it was a Doc/Dick set up. For the Bees the goal was as undesirable as the scrapings from the inside of a Mongolian tram driver’s gauntlet. 3-1 Bison.

Bison continued to frustrate the Bees and finally, the last chance saloon having been reached, Deano was pulled from the net with 2 minutes to go. He skated off faster than the 9:15 to Waterloo and it was a case of cheerio, old fruit - an early tiffin for you. On came skater number 6 and the Bees laid siege to the Bison goal, also resplendent with a new net. There were a number of empty net attempts, none of which resulted in an ENG, but which drew Ooooos and Ahhhhs from the assembled. The clock reached 0:00 and the Fat Lady sang. Rejoicing burst forth and shouts of “stick that in your pipe and smoke it – nah-nah-nah-nah-nah” were directed towards the Bees’ block. It was a monumental grudge win for Bison, if not a classic game. There are those in the Bees’ camp who have criticised Coach Sheppard for getting rid of Mettam and replacing him with Skinns. Maybe they have a point. Metts ended the evening with a save percentage of 94.7% and pulled off some crucial saves, while Deano manged only 76.9% and did not have the best night of his career.

Top bananas were elected. Malinik was top Bee and Cowley top Bison. Away we all went and I am certain that there wasn’t a single Bison fan or indeed announcer who doubted that they had made the right decision to stick with their team. As for the defectors, who are now the supporters of a distinctly average team who appear on this form to be a country mile from winning the volume of silverware won by the Basingstoke icemen last season or indeed any silverware at all, they must have wallowed in a steaming cess pit of doubt as they contemplated their turncoat treachery, but hey! don’t allow me to make another subjective comment on this issue please.