Holy Shit, I Just May Be Growing Up

I've played organized sports since I was nine years old. I played little league football and baseball, and did pretty well- I'd say I was maybe a little above average for my age group. I grew up in Casper, Wyoming, and we didn't have anything better to do but play ball every day, so you almost couldn't help but get good.

Then I moved to Colorado, got into high school, and switched over to soccer because I was way too small to play football and baseball. Shit, when I graduated I was 5'1" and weighed about 135 pounds. I didn't rocket all the way up to 5'6" until I was in college. Let's just say I didn't get that many recruiting calls from the football coach.

The thing that always remained constant when I was playing as a kid, and then in my 20's and 30's, was that I was what they call a little ball of hate. I'm sure it was to compensate for my lack of size, but I would work myself into such a competitive frenzy before the game, that once the whistle blew, I was looking for a chunk of somebody's ass. And it didn't matter how big they were.

I would spend the whole game talking shit to the other team, and if I got the chance playing soccer, I would go out of my way to slide tackle a guy, and kick his legs out from under him. Or when I played men's league softball, I would slide into a base hard and try to make contact with the opposing player. And the entire time, I would be running my mouth.

So in other words, I was, well...a dick. I'm not real proud of that fact, but I think a lot of guys go through that stage when they're young. Especially us little fuckers. Hell, I play hockey these days with and against a lot of kids, and I see them getting into scraps, and flapping their jaws a lot during games. It just makes me smile and flash back to another time.

Now that I'm an old fuck, I don't yap nearly as much as I used to. In fact, I'm just so goddamn happy that I still can play a little bit, most of the time I just concentrate on not embarrassing myself.

But make no mistakes- when the puck drops, I'm still a competitive little bastard. I recently wrote an article where I said that I die a little bit every time I give up a goal, and I can swear for three minutes without repeating a phrase. That's no shit. I fucking hate letting the puck in the net. I think you have to feel that way if you want to be any good.

But here's the part that doesn't have to happen. To borrow a phrase from Top Gun, sometimes my teammates get caught in the "jetwash" of my emotions, and I bark at them if they make a mistake. Most of the time it happens when I'm tired (ongoing sleep disorder), and I have a short fuse. But that's not a good enough excuse.

I know that kind of thing happens in adult sports all the time, where the competitive guy snaps, the teammate tells him to go fuck himself, and then they have a beer after the game and laugh about it.

But I don't want to be that guy anymore. At my age, I have a very short time left to play, and I just want to enjoy the game and my friends.

About six weeks ago, there were some things going on with my job, and I went through a period where I wasn't having fun playing, and it showed on the ice. Then one day, I got an email from a teammate, who happens to be one of my best friends. Instead of asking me why I was being a jackoff, he asked if everything was okay, and if there was anything he could do to help. I'll never forget that.

At that very moment I decided that I was going to do everything possible to start having more fun, and keep my emotions in check during games. And I'd like to think I've been pretty successful so far. I haven't said a discouraging word in a long time, and you know what? I'm playing better now than I have in years. There just might be a correlation there.

Then last week, I found out that a kid on our team that's in his early 20's has thyroid cancer. He's going to be okay, but he's going to have three surgeries to clean all the shit out of his system. He just started playing again last week, and he has a terrific attitude about it. In fact, he was in the locker room making jokes about having cancer, and how he was going to get his girlfriend to do all kinds of nasty stuff because he's going to tell her it "might be the last time they ever get to have sex". Only hockey players are twisted enough to clown about having cancer.

And I thought to myself, "You were worried about a men's league hockey game? What a fuckin' idiot. Go play, put a smile on your face, and shut the fuck up."

Last Tuesday night, I think the hockey gods may have been testing me and my new attitude a little bit. We were playing the team that we were tied with for first place, and the game was 3-3 with about five minutes left. We were on a power play, and one of my defensemen had the puck behind my net.

When he skated the puck to our corner to break out of the zone, he got tangled up with one our own players, and they both went down. A guy from the other team picked up the loose puck, and centered it to a teammate that was open in front of my net. I moved out towards him to cut the angle for his impending shot. No problem.

Then, just when the puck was about to reach that guy, my other defenseman stuck his stick out, and deflected the centering pass into my net. We ended up losing 4-3, and dropped out of first place. Between my two teammates crashing into each other, and my own guy knocking the puck past me, it was the perfect "clusterfuck".

Not very long ago, especially in a game that was so important, my teammates would have immediately witnessed the eruption of Mount St. Goalie. I would have come un-fuckin'-glued. But Tuesday night, I quietly skated to the corner, took a deep breath, and didn't say a word. My boy Sam, who is the other goalie in the family, happened to be at the game, and asked me later why I wasn't dropping f-bombs all over the place like I usually do.

The answer: I think possibly, at age 51, I just might be finally growing up.

Then in the last minute of the game, I was on the bench because they had pulled me in favor of an extra attacker to try and tie the contest. The other team shot the puck all the way down to our end, which should have been "icing". There should have been a stoppage of play, and a faceoff in their end.

Well, the referee, who was 19 or 20, waved off the icing, and everyone on our bench screamed bloody murder. He skated by and said, "They can ice the puck, because you pulled your goalie", which is just completely wrong. We never got the puck back into their zone, and time ran out.

The kid was standing near our bench right before the clock expired, and he had one of those "pube beards" where just a few hairs are sticking out of his chin. I leaned out over the boards and yelled, "Hey, by the way! Nice Scooby Doo beard, you cocksucker!"



Okay, so maybe the "growing up" thing is a work in progress...

Now I Can Say I've Been To The Nutcracker

So last night, I was coaching at my kid's hockey practice. The head coach of our team has never actually seen me play before, so that explains why he lets me coach the goalies. I have him convinced I have a clue- please don't tell him I'm full of shit. Coaches get to be on the bench for the games, and I really enjoy watching from there, instead of up in the stands with all the other humanoids.

Anyway, about 15 minutes in, I'm standing next to my kid Sam trying to give him some instruction. And he's doing a great job convincing me that I'm helping, even though we both know he's the one that should probably be teaching me how to do this bullshit.

The team was doing this passing drill, where they come down the ice, three at a time, pass the puck back and forth, and then take a shot. The kids at 13 and 14 can shoot pretty hard, so while the drill is in progress, I step pretty far off to the side so that I won't get hit by a stray shot. I wear a helmet, but that's really the only protection I have. Then when the drill goes back the other way, that's when I step back in and give some tips to Sam or Mac, who's our other goalie.

With me so far? Good...

So the boys took their shots at Sam, and I didn't really have anything to tell him at that moment, so I stayed about 15 feet to his left, watching the boys skate in the other direction. I didn't even look over at Sam.

Now, had I been looking that way, I might have noticed Assistant Coach Keith winding up to take an extra shot on Sam. He does that now and again to give the goalies a little extra work. Keith's a good friend of mine- big Canadian boy, about 6'2", 200 pounds. Grew up playing hockey, and can still shoot slap shots like bullets.

Had I also been looking in that direction, I may have also noticed that Keith was shooting from Sam's right, and I was on the left, still 15 feet wide of the goal.

Finally, if I would have looked in that direction, I just might have realized that Keith missed his shot very, very badly. So instead putting his slapshot on goal, the puck instead made a beeline for...

Wait for it...

My right testicle.

I don't know how it was possible, but that puck, which is 4 inches around and an inch thick, hit nothing except my right nut. Not "lefty", not any part of my leg, not even Mr. Pee Pee (good thing it hangs naturally to the left). I'm talkin' nothing else. Full impact, directly on the right clanger.

Kids, I've been playing sports for over 40 years, plus I have four kids, so I'm no stranger to getting hit in the gonards. Shit, pinatas haven't been hit as many times as my daughter has hit me in the balls. But I have never, ever experienced the pain that went through me when that missile connected with it's target.

From what I understand, I made the "Lee Harvey Oswald Face" when the puck arrived at it's final destination. What's the "Lee Harvey Oswald Face", you ask? It goes a little something like this:


By the way, super security job by the Dallas police on this one...

I felt an immediate burning pain, and looked down just in time for the puck to release from by nut, and drop harmlessly to the ice, right in front of me. At first glance, it did not appear that my right ball had done any damage to the puck. I made a grunt like Chewbacca from Star Wars, and looked for a soft place to lay down for a moment.

But for some reason, my brain wouldn't let me go down. Maybe because it knew that if I hit the ice knees-first, they would both snap like balsa wood, and I would have even more problems. So I dropped my stick and gloves, and headed immediately to the sanctuary of the locker room.

My good pal Keith came over right away, and did an admirable job of being very concerned, while trying not to laugh his ass off. I don't think he realized just how hard that goddamn puck hit me, and I was trying very hard to be a man in front of the kids.

I got into the locker room, and discovered that I was going to be ill, and very soon. That's always been my barometer for injury- I know I'm really hurt if I have to barf. And barf I did, boys and girls...

I stood there for awhile, and tried to wait for the pain to go away. That's what happens when you get hit in the nuts, right? It hurts for a little bit, and then subsides. Right?

Wrong. It ached, and ached, and then ached some more. I could tell that this was one that was going to linger for awhile. I went back out and tried to sit on the bench, but then about five minutes later, I had to go back in and blow chunks again. This was not good.

So practice ended, and I went to the coaches locker room and spent maybe the longest five minutes of my life, taking off my skates. And then walked gingerly out to the car, and spent the longest 10 minutes of my life driving home.

I didn't know what else to do, so I walked into the house, grabbed a bag of frozen cranberries, and headed downstairs to my easy chair. Believe it or not, this raised a little curiosity from my lovely wife Annie, as to why I was carefully placing the cranberries meant for Thanksgiving upon my groinal region, and whimpering like a starving puppy.

So I regaled her with my story, hoping for a little sympathy and concern. When I finished, I looked over, and she had her head buried in her pillow, her body silently shaking all over. And I guess Sam must have broken the news to my oldest son Mike, because I could hear that little fucker laughing all the way upstairs in his bedroom.

To her credit, Annie tried to make it up to me later on. She said her mom had given her some Percocets just in case we ever needed them, and she would be happy to run and get me one. She left for a moment, and then came sashaying down the stairs holding a little pill with a "P" etched in it. I was very grateful to her as I gobbled that sucker down, and didn't take any other medicine. I didn't want to risk mixing painkillers, and pull a Heath Ledger right before the holidays.

But I was still uncomfortable all night. The pain just wouldn't go away, and I hardly got any sleep. It was like the Percocet wasn't working at all.

That turned out to be because the pill wasn't a fucking Percocet. She accidentally grabbed a Prilocec, which is a heartburn medication. So the bad news was that there was nothing helping the throbbing in my nut. But the good news was that I could have eaten that chimichanga before bedtime without having to worry about anything.

Fuck me.

Dear Santa,

I'd like to think I've been a good boy this year. All I want for Christmas is a new family. At this point, they can even be French. I don't give a shit anymore. Dude, I'll do whatever it takes. I'll blow you at the mall. Just get me the fuck outta here, will you please, big fella?

Love,
Al

So this morning, after some medication that could actually help a little, some of the pain has subsided.

However, I've got a new situation, kids.

My right nut is currently three times the size of my left. For dimensional purposes only, imagine a golf ball next to a tennis ball. Neither are that big, but the difference is about right. I've got the cranberries out again (fuck it, I already wrecked Thanksgiving), and I'm hoping this gets better soon.

Otherwise I'm going to have to get some custom made khakis for work. Anyone out there know a seamstress?

Dawgs Get By Cobra Kai In Overtime Shootout

Well, a goalie duel it was not.

In a night where it was raining goals all over the place, the Dawgs improved to 9-2 for the winter season last Tuesday night with an 8-7 shootout win against Cobra Kai. The wild game featured several lead changes, end to end action, and an improbable hero that led his team to victory.

Combined with Ozone's unexpected 7-3 loss to the Ice Pack, the Dawgs now occupy first place all by themselves with 18 points, plus they have a game in hand because of an earlier postponement. Ozone is two points back, along with Dr. Five hole, who will be the Dawgs' opponents for the next two games.

Some of the Dawgs' goals were scored by the usual suspects, namely Nate Akell, and secret lovers Dan Pham and Tyson Dale. Akell notched his eighth of the season, while both Pham and Dale drove home two goals each.

But the story of the night was the dream game turned in by Dawgs captain and former pork sword swallower Marty Richardson, who not only scored the last two Dawgs goals in regulation, was a plus-six for the evening, but tucked in the shootout winner to lead his team to victory.


Isn't he a happy little fella?

Goalie Al Sterner, after having a reasonable game the previous week, came crashing back down to Earth like Christa McAuliffe, surrendering a touchdown and extra point of goals. But it was a night where his teammates scored just enough to bail out their 51 year old netminder.


Sterner's game

The Dawgs always seem to have problems with their good friends from Cobra Kai, and Tuesday night was no different. Young Tom DiNardo made Sterner his personal bitch, scoring a hat trick, and Jon Jay put in two of his own, adding to his legend of being one of the top 10 Canadian players on his team.


Jay

The game was a seesaw battle most of the way, with the score being 2-2 after the first period, and then 5-4 in favor of the Dawgs at the end of the second. But Cobra Kai forged ahead 6-5 with just a few minutes to play, and it looked like they were going to win another close contest, just like they did a few weeks ago.

Then in one shift, Richardson changed the whole outlook of the game by scoring two goals. He was playing on the same line as Pham and Dale, which is a little like this:

Richardson floating, center

But Richardson made the most of the opportunity, stuffing his second and third of the season past Cobra Kai goalie Jeff "Circle" Yerks, and giving his team a precarious 7-6 advantage.

But that lead lasted only a short time, when Jay slammed a rebound goal past Sterner to level matters, and send the game to an overtime shootout.

This was the first shootout of the winter for the Dawgs, and they sent out two of their top scorers, Pham and Dale, to take the first attempts. Unfortunately, both young players gagged like they would if they attempted to make love to a female.

Meanwhile, Cobra Kai's Tony Garin found the Carlsbad Cavern that is Sterner's five hole, and they took a quick lead in the shootout. But DiNardo and Jay missed, leaving the Dawgs only down 1-0 with three shooters remaining.

Nate Akell stepped up next, and did what he has been quietly doing all season, scoring to knot the shootout. Then Shaun Hollis, returning this week after a concussion sustained from vigorous oral sex with the dudes, roofed the puck past Yerks to give the Dawgs a 2-1 lead.

Cobra Kai's other Canadian import, Jon Ripley, then shot wide, and the Dawgs had an opportunity to close out the game with one more goal. But who would take the all-important shot?


Marty Richardson? No shit?

Richardson skated in, made a quick move to his forehand, and slotted the puck past Yerks to complete the best night of his life. This easily surpassed his wedding night, because the penalty shot lasted longer than Richardson did in bed.

In other Dawgs news:

The medical marijuana that defenseman Rick Zimmat is using to help recover from painful hemorrhoid surgery is beginning to have some undesired side effects:


Zimmat

Dawgs forward Shaun Hollis this week decided to break up with his new girlfriend after becoming "confused" about their sexual relationship.

"What do you mean it's just a picture? I was going to jump on that hog!"

Dawgs goalie Al Sterner and his other team, Go Green, this week won the Boulder Valley Fall League championship at the Superior Ice Arena. Here he is being photographed holding the Wyman Cup:


"Number one, bee-yotch!"

Sterner led the league in goals against, with a 1.92 average. Asked why his goals against average was over two goals higher on the Dawgs squad in the EAHL, Sterner said, "Shit, Al can only think of one possible reason".


Dawgs defenseman Tito Pijanowski

Sterner informed Dawgs captain Marty Richardson that because of his newfound success, he will immediately be holding out for a new contract. Until his terms are met, Sterner will not be wearing the Dawgs uniform.

Asked by reporters what his demands are, Sterner responded, "Al wants double what he got last season. Al deserves it. Now get out of Al's face."

Further research revealed that if Sterner's contract doubles, it will mean Richardson must now pay him eight dollars and give him two blowjobs instead of one.

"Al's open to an installment plan..."

The 10 Worst Movies Ever (Part 2)

Okay, we've dispensed with horrible movies 10 through six (see below if you haven't read them yet), and we're ready to count down the five worst movies of all time.


5. I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry

Let me start by saying that I really like Adam Sandler. I know he annoys the crap out of a lot of people, and I totally understand that opinion. He's one of those guys that you either love or hate. I just happen to be in the camp that likes the guy. I've seen Happy Gilmore, Fifty First Dates and The Wedding Singer a million times. I even like The Waterboy.

But "Chuck and Larry" is a ball of shit for two reasons. First, Kevin James is in it, and I've hated him ever since he got way too competitive in the All Star celebrity softball game a few years ago. He was about to be tagged out at third base, and tried to mow down Derek Parra, who won the speed skating gold medal in Salt Lake City. Parra stepped aside, watched James barrel his fat ass right past him, and then looked at him, like "what the fuck are you doing?" Oh, and Paul Blart: Mall Cop sucked, too. A lot. Almost made this list.

Second, this is another one of those movies that tries to teach you a lesson, just like "The Day After Tomorrow" from earlier in the list. Sandler starts out being this manly fireman who cracks the occasional gay joke, and then enters into a "civil union" with James, so James can keep his benefits, or some such nonsense.

Then magically, Sandler is transformed, and sees the error in his old ways. By pretending to be gay, he sees just how hurtful those gay jokes were, and from now on, he's going to be sensitive to their plight. It includes the big cliche speech at the end. (You can't see now, but I'm making the "jerk off" sign with my right hand. Because, you know, I'm a rightie when it comes to that.)

I just don't have time for any person or group that can't make fun of themselves. If you've read anything in this blog, you'll notice that I goof on everything and everyone, including myself. The name of the damn blog should be a pretty good clue. People just need to lighten the hell up, and have some fun with who they are.

Oh, there was one redeeming feature to this movie. It's this:



That there is Jessica Biel's butt, which should have it's own place in the Louvre. Right next to the Mona Lisa. I'm not kidding...

4. The Replacements

I had to include a Keanu Reeves movie. He is easily the worst actor of our generation, and this movie is just a big bag of fertilizer. It's about a bunch of guys that sign up to play pro football while the regular pros are out on strike (replacements- get it?), and Keanu plays Shane Falco, the quarterback with huge potential that lost his confidence when he played like shit in the Sugar Bowl.

Joining Reeves in this abortion is none other than Gene Hackman, who must have lost a bet to take this role. He's the grizzled old coach, who is also getting a second chance to take the helm of a pro team. Even wears the Tom Landry hat.

The story itself is okay, I guess, except you just can't get past the fact that Keanu is a horrible actor. At the climactic point in the movie, he's in the huddle, looks around and says, "Gentlemen, it has been an honor to share the field of battle with you", and honest to God, it sounds like he's reading the line off of cue cards for the first time ever. When I saw it originally, I actually crapped a little in my pants.

Plus the football scenes are completely out of sequence, which is a real dealbreaker for me. Things like being called for a 15 yard penalty at midfield, and then when they snap the ball next, it's at their own one yard line. There's actually one scene where Falco's calling a play at the line, and they show Gene Hackman on the sidelines, standing next to Falco. There's just no excuse for that kind of shit.

The funny part is- I watch this movie every time it comes on. I don't know about you guys, but sometimes you have to listen to a song you hate, or watch a movie you hate, just so you can say at regular intervals, "Fuck me, this is bad!"

Okay, maybe that's just me.

3. Rocky V

In the last article I said that I could only think of one sports movie that had a good sequel, and Rocky is it. In fact, there were two good sequels, with Rocky III I believe being the best one. Apollo Creed teaching Rocky how to be fast so he could knock out Mr. T was brilliant. Unfortunately, that's kind of where the train went off the tracks. Stallone should have let it go right there.

Rocky IV was barely okay, but I wish Apollo hadn't gotten killed, and it got preachy again at the end where Rocky stood in the ring and rambled on about how countries could change if fight fans could change, or some bullshit like that. That really should have been the last one.

But Stallone couldn't leave well enough alone, and destroyed the entire franchise by making Rocky V. In this one, he for some reason gave his alchoholic brother in-law Pauley power of attorney, and Pauley lost all their money in some sort of bad investment. Bullshit.

Then they have to move back to the slums of Philly, because there's no way a beloved world champion could ever find a way to make a living. Bullshit again.

Now penniless, Stallone takes on a protege (a boxer named Tommy Morrison that ended up with AIDS in real life) that eventually betrays him, and meanwhile he has to teach his son (played coincidentally by his own son Sage) how to fight so he doesn't get gang-fucked, ghetto style after school. Always a bad idea to put your family in a movie, especially when they've never been in front of a camera before. Also a bad idea to name a boy Sage. Might as well name him, Hey Everybody, Kick My Ass.

Rocky ends up winning a streetfight with the evil protege at the end, which still leaves him with no money, and possible HIV from Morrison bleeding all over him. It was just a shame to watch Stallone piss away an American icon in one last grasp at making a couple of bucks. Not many people remember this, but the original Rocky won the Academy Award in 1977.

No shit.

Stallone knew he fucked up, and tried to redeem himself one last time with Rocky Balboa two years ago. I wanted so badly to like that movie, but it sucked, too. This just makes me sad- let's move on...

2. St. Elmo's Fire

If you didn't watch movies in the 80's, you probably won't recall the Brat Pack, which included Rob Lowe, Demi Moore, Judd Nelson, Emilio Estevez, Andrew McCarthy and Ally Sheedy. They were in a ton of teen movies, mostly by John Hughes (who recently went tits up), and were the hottest thing on the planet.

Anyway, they were all in this steaming shit brick, where six young graduates from college can't figure out what to do with the rest of their lives. What they should have done was all get into a minivan, and drive that fucker off of a cliff. Would have saved me three bucks (movies were cheap back in the 80's).

A few of the highlights:

The Andrew McCarthy badass look. Used it in all of his movies when things got intense. This was the best example I could find:



He brought "the look" out when Judd Nelson was fighting with him over Ally Sheedy. I got the same look wondering who the hell would fight over Ally Sheedy.

Rob Lowe playing the saxophone. Worst job I've ever seen of someone making believe they were playing a musical instrument. He's even wearing a headband, has a dangling earring, and a muscle shirt with bats on it. Check this out:



He would have been more believable if he would have had some dude's dork hanging out of his mouth instead of that horn. Bitchin' 23 inch chest, by the way.

Demi Moore's suicide attempt. Everything falls apart for Demi's character, so she tries to off herself by...wait for it...locking herself in a drafty room. "Oh my God, Jules! You're going to freeze in there! Please open the door, honey!". Back in those days, Demi was pretty beefy, so she could have survived for weeks.

Anyway, they get it all figured out by the end. Neither Judd Nelson or Andrew McCarthy get Ally Sheedy, Demi doesn't die but keeps that big old husky voice for the rest of her life, and Rob Lowe goes to New York to play fake sax, but not before taking the virginity of a fat chick before he leaves.

You know how to make love with a fat girl, right? Roll her in flour, and then go for the wet spot. (My dad told me that joke when I was a teenager. He's the reason I am how I am.)


Anyhoo, this was my least favorite movie of all time until just recently. Then this film came on HBO, and I decided to check it out because it got a decent review when it was in theaters. And it immediately made it's way to the very top of my hate list.

That movie is...

1. Mamma Mia

As in, "Mamma mia, this is the worst fucking movie I have ever seen in my life." I don't even know where to begin with this.

I guess I could start by saying that I don't like musicals. It's just never made sense to me for people to be having a conversation one minute, and then singing and dancing their ass off the next. Nobody does that. Well, except sometimes gay people.

Let me also say right now that I love Meryl Streep. She is undoubtedly the best actress that has ever lived. And she can really sing. But kids, I don't need to see any 60 year old woman shaking her ass while singing ABBA songs, alongside two other 60 year old women also shaking their asses. I just don't.

I hate to admit this, but I liked ABBA a lot back in the 70's. I listened to them all the time on my eight-track player in my AMC Gremlin. It looked a lot like this:


And I wondered why I didn't get laid the entire decade...

So I was curious how they would incorporate the old songs into a movie. The answer turned out to be: very badly. For those of you that haven't seen this turd yet (which makes you much better off than I am), Meryl's daughter is getting married, but wants her long lost father to come to the ceremony. The problem is, Meryl was what the kids call a dirty ho back in the day, and could only narrow it down to three candidates.

Enter Colin Firth, Stellan Skarsgard, and Pierce Brosnan. Nice looking gentlemen, I guess, but the casting director missed just one tiny little detail when she hired these fellas for their roles:

Not one of these fuckers can sing. Especially Pierce Brosnan. Holy shit, when he belts out "S.O.S.", it's like watching animals get tortured. Have you ever asked a woman when her baby's due, and then discover she's not pregnant? Watching Brosnan sing is that uncomfortable. I'll never be able to watch him playing James Bond again without remembering how much he sucked in this movie.

Anyway, I think at the end the guys decided to split fatherhood three ways, much the same way as they split Meryl Streep's hoo-haw when she was younger. At least I think that's how it ended- I was busy wrapping an extension cord around my neck and looking for some rafters.


So that's it, boys and girls. I know this isn't like most of you out there, but I'd really like to see some feedback on this. I just got to 30,000 hits on this site last weekend, and I've only been counting for 16 months, so somebody must be reading this shit.

Talk to me, Goose. Talk to me...

Dawgs Plow Through Ice Pack, 6-2

(Writer's note: Before I get started this week, I just wanted to send thoughts and prayers from Dawg Nation and every other twisted sucker that reads this blog to Jack Kelley and Danny Packard, two Dawgs players that are going through some pretty serious medical situations right now. We're thinking about you and we can't wait to get you both back out on the ice. So stop fuckin' around already and get back to where you belong, okay boys? Godspeed to you both.)

The Dawgs I squad bounced back from only their second defeat of the EAHL winter season last Tuesday night with a solid 6-2 win against the Ice Pack. The victory makes the Dawgs 8-2 as the season hits the halfway mark, and ties the team for first with Ozone, even though the good guys have played one less game.

Forward Nate Akell bounced back from missing last week's game due to excessive body hair, pouring in his sixth and seventh goals. Center Dan Pham, coping with the fact that he's not even the best player in his family, also knocked in two, plus Danny Packard banged in his seventh.

But the real story of the game was the return of defenseman Rick Zimmat, who survived a surgery that no man should ever have to endure, and managed to fire in his first goal of the season to help his team to victory.

And for the first time this season goalie Al Sterner saved more shots than he missed, somehow turning aside 33 out of 35, and lowering his goals against average to a lifetime best 4.2. The two goals given were a season low in the EAHL, and this week his game was certified by the Pope as a miracle.


"Fatta boy, you five hole is thisa big! Shutta you fuckin' legs!"

For the first time in awhile, the Dawgs came out of the gate firing on all cylinders, and connected for four goals in the first period. Packard opened just a couple of minutes in, and after the Ice Pack's Kyle Kube replied on a rebound goal, Akell drove home his first of the game to make it 2-1.

Pham opened his account for the game in the middle of the period, skating in on a breakaway and completely undressing Ice Pack goalie David Jess to give his team a two goal lead. Pham has been playing with less confidence for the past several weeks, distraught that his 15 year old brother Tyler can skate circles around him.

Now playing junior hockey in Illinois, the young Pham has recently made a verbal commitment to the University of Denver, where he'll play for one of the top college programs in the country.

To quickly summarize the brothers' current situation, Tyler is 15, has his whole life in front of him, will play Division I college hockey, possibly someday becoming a professional player. He will receive a free education from one of the finest institutions in the United States. In addition, because he is a hockey player, he'll be waist deep in co-ed ass before he unpacks his bags.

Older brother Dan Pham sells copiers. His life revolves around fantasy hockey. He gets laid only when he can get linemate Tyson Dale drunk.


Pham brothers (Tyler, left). Guess who's life is better?

Before the end of the period, the Dawgs were on a power play in the Ice Pack zone. The puck was sent back to the point, where Zimmat was waiting. He then wound up and fired a blast towards Jess, which was clocked from the stands at a whopping 23 miles per hour. The puck somehow eluded Jess and found the back of the net, and Zimmat had his first of the 2009 campaign.

The fact that Zimmat was even playing was a minor miracle. Just a few short weeks ago, he underwent surgery to remove several hemorrhoids, making for a painful recovery period. Fortunately, Zimmat was able to access the giant bag of weed that he takes with him to the bench before every game, making things much more comfortable.


Zimmat and "medicine"

During the second period, the Dawgs did everything they could to let the Ice Pack back into the game, taking penalty after penalty. The team spent at least half of the period shorthanded, several times with two men in the sin-bin.

The Ice pack could only capitalize once on a power play, when defenseman Zach Osborne, a former standout junior player, stepped into a drop pass at the top of the left faceoff circle, and hammered a blistering slapshot over Sterner's shoulder, hitting the underside of the crossbar before going into the net.

"I caught a break on that one", exclaimed Sterner. "That puck almost hit me! That would have (expletive) hurt. I think it would have been intent to injure!"

The game stayed at 4-2 going to the third period, but the Dawgs continued their parade to the penalty box, leaving the game very much in doubt. But with around eight minutes left, the contest completely changed when 19 year old Dawgs rookie Josh Adams got into a all-out brawl with Osborne, gamely hanging in with a player that clearly had experience in hockey fights.

The skirmish lasted well over a minute, mainly because both referees went to the Dallas Police School for breaking up fights:


Jump in there anytime, fellas...

When play resumed, the Ice Pack was down to eight men, and their best skater was in the locker room packing his bags for good, as he would subsequently be ejected from the EAHL. Adams received a two game suspension, and was grounded for two weeks by his mom when he got home.

Somehow the Dawgs ended up two men short after the scrap, but killed all the penalties without any damage. A couple of minutes later, Pham drilled his second of the game to pretty much put things out of reach at 5-2. Right near the end, Akell also knocked in his second for the final tally, and the Dawgs were back on the winning track.

This week, the boys have a return match against their pals and Dawg Nation charter members Cobra Kai. The teams have split two games this season, with Cobra Kai winning a few weeks ago by a 5-4 margin. Game time is 9:20.

In other Dawgs news:

Dawgs forward Shaun Hollis should return to action tonight after missing the past two games due to Post Concussion Syndrome. Doctors have determined that Hollis suffered from having too many testicles bouncing off of his chin.


Just go slower, son...

Dawgs captain Marty Richardson this week celebrated his ninth anniversary with his wife Cindy. He gave her the special gift of being able to have sex with a real man-namely Tito "The King" Pijanowski.


"Tito like happy trail. Point right at target-help very much."

Doctors were amazed last week, when they discovered that defenseman Rick Zimmat's hemorrhoids bore a remarkable resemblance to Dawgs forward Brad Stabio.

This one may be over the line, even for me...