A couple of weeks ago the men made a rare Friday night appearance against rivals Greenwich.  The hockey was what it was, but it provided a splendid opportunity for the team to go out en masse to the after party, which conveniently doubled up as Koala’s (Neon) birthday gathering.  Koala is not neon mind you, she is from Hong Kong and hangs on to the back of other hairy animals from time to time, hence her name; people just wore neon to her party.

It was good to see a great group of the boys out, especially Relentless, who for the first time this season didn’t have a soccergame that conflicted with a social.  Ben, who has yet to do anything stupid enough to give himself a nickname made his debut on the pitch and in the bar for the club, and Reacharound was there in full force as well.

I am not entirely sure of the reason behind it, but Jameson must have been in shorter supply than England football managerial candidates, or so it seemed.  Because that’s the only excuse there could have been for ordering it every single trip to the bar.  Enough of the good stuff and it will start playing tricks with the mind.  It certainly did with mine.  It must have, because I swear the last memory I have is being in the Alphabet Lounge and seeing Reach Around grabbing hold of a nice set of die.  Or at least I think they were die, maybe it was just one dice, maybe they were actually attached to someone, but it is so hard for one to be certain what you saw when under the influence of the creature.  I mean after all 1+1 makes two, or does it?  Have I dropped enough hints here?  I think everyone really knows what was going on.  Anyone else who is unclear may feel free to buy me enough Jamo that I remember more clearly.

Saturday saw the Royal Marines come to town for their annual match against the best club in New York.  They say they were here on a tour, however it was quite clear they were just the first load of undesirables to be shipped out of east London ahead of the upcoming Summer Olympics.  Where they were found wanting hygienically they more than made up for in spirit and consuming ability.  Not the sharpest beer pong players though, or hockey players for that matter.  Having been dispatched in both events, and their pride clearly stinging, they pulled out all the stops and challenged us to a boat race.

As a general rule in life you do not boat race against a bunch of burly marines, unless you want to be thoroughly embarrassed.  Like pants down, willy out, on a very, very cold day in front of a bunch of phenomenally attractive women embarrassed. However, (to keep the analogies rolling) you don’t take all a man’s money and not give him a chance to win it back.  So we accepted.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have been to the Great Wall of China, I have seen the Pyramids of Egypt, I’ve even witnessed a grown man satisfy a camel. But never in all my years as a hockey player/boozer have I witnessed something as improbable, as impossible, as what we witnessed last Saturday!  With no small assist from Zippy, (realizing he was outclassed, simply poured his beer over his head, my how it shone!) your humble, yet awesome lads beat 9 marines at what they do best.  Not since 1783 has a group of Royal Marines taken such a beating on these shores!  The trifecta, hockey, beer pong and boat racing, in your face Lord Nelson!!  In your face Lord Beaverbrook!!  Sir Winston Churchill, Sir Anthony Eden,Clement Attlee, Henry Cooper, Lady Diana, we have beaten them all, we have beaten them all.  Maggie Thatcher, can you hear me? Maggie Thatcher, your boys took a hell of a beating! Your boys took a hell of a beating!

The following weekend had a lot to live up to, so it was rather fortuitous that the annual club BBQ was planned for Sunday.

I will take a time out here if you will allow me to.  I usually use this space to poke fun at, berate, or insult members of the club for general foolishness away from the field.  But a big thank you must go to our grill master and BBQ man extraordinaire, Toad.  He does all the cooking, shopping and this year cleaning, without any help, and actually volunteered to sit out of thegame and cook while we played.  So here’s to you, oh Sultan of Sausage, thanks!

The BBQ itself was an unusually sober affair.  Quite pleasant for a change.  It wasn’t really until Toad pulled out a bottle of finest Andre and forced NSG to get down on one knee (for the second time this week, congrats NSG and T-Bone btw, turns out he really is Not So Gay!) and chug that things started to liven up.  Great turn out from the club proving once again we really are the best ever.

After the BBQ a small contingent had decided their thirst was not quite slaked, made their way down to Rodeo Bar.  The FDR traffic, while proving that the subway is the only form of travel a real New Yorker should ever take, did provide some time for conversation without beer.  I am not sure I liked it.  You would think with the excitement of having obtained the ‘pass’ for the afternoon Bungle would have liked to relish the few hours of freedom he had, but he spent most of the journey south talking about kids.  His and others.  This, by the way is perfectly acceptable.  What is not, is when you start forcing the matter on others… “Groomer you must be thinking about kids soon, and My Club you too, and Audi…” even the driver was getting nervous.  And when Audi bought up the subject of her nipple cream, enough was enough and I went inside myself to my happy place.  Never have I been so thankful for a frozen margarita and a few consumptions games!

There were a few margaritas actually, which was only right as we had to toast Fingers, it was his 26^th birthday, and Audi who, as she told everyone, was still celebrating her birthday week (she had turned 43 on Wednesday). Koala was a good sport for coming along and putting up with all the orangutan jokes, and a very secret, secret person also made an appearance which was nice.

There are a few things coming up on the social schedule which I need to mention.  We have a pretty informal night out on May 18^th (both teams have games on Friday night so would be rude not to go out after) and there is also the league party after the playoffs on June 16^th.

BUT, the big event that I hope is in all of your calendars is Friday June 22^nd, and the annual End of Season Dinner.  It is black tie, 8pm-11pm at Trattoria Cinque.  It is a three hour open bar, cocktails on arrival with some apps, a sit down three course dinner in our own private room with our own bar and wait staff.  Tickets are being subsidized by the club to keep cost down, they are $100 each.  It would be great if everyone could make it.  There will be awards, speeches and a few surprises on the night.  Partners, better halves and significant others are always more than welcome, nay, encouraged, just please RSVP to either myself or Marloes so we can get an idea of numbers.  RSVPs MUST be made by the end of May!  You can give your checks to Steve, Danny, Marloes or myself.

Look forward to seeing you all soon!!  Good luck this weekend with the games (think it is only the boys – ON SATURDAY!!!).

Groomer

President’s Note – With apologies for absence this weekend, I wish good luck to the Men v New York Islanders. Boom Boom Pow!

The game from start to finish was dominated by New York, the final score line of 9-0 not doing justice to the amount of opportunities taken and unfortunately missed. Indeed, the game quickly became a display of good team work and simple hockey, New Yorks defence seeing little action for the first 15 minutes of the game. Great communication and passing from

the back through Fluffer, NSG, Toad and man of the match Fitch allowed for the opening midfield trio of Towner, Babs and Benny Lava to stamp their authority onthe game and take command of the game. Clean, direct running from the forward line carved several opening opportunities for New York but the final touch was lacking until Bungle took one of his thousands of opportunities converting from 1 yard out. More goals followed from well worked moves with Towner and Relentless both converting their opportunities.  Relentless then earned a stroke through a fine individual run that saw him treated more like a tree than a hockey player.  Unfortunately he then promptly earned himself  DoD and its accompanying  visor and t-shirt of shame by throwing the stroke a good  yard and a half to tthe right of the goal.

The second half remained business as usual for NYC with further well worked team goals being added to the ever increasing score line. Frustrations grew amongst the Westchester ranks, and with a yellow card issued, the New York men took advantage to add to the score line. Leo “LioneL” Hauet, Babs and Cesar  all chipped in with a goal a piece to take the score to 7-0.

Babs then erased the “worst stroke that ever scored a goal” from last week  from the minds of the spectators by slotting one in the lower left corner at supersonic speed and Relentless gained one more to take the total toward the ending point of 9. As important as the finishing was, the well marshaled midfield and defense saw NYC keep a clean sheet, an important addition to the overall result and credit to those playing in the back line, and moreover the team defence. The final result showed the sleeping monster that lies within a strong NYC squad, with everyone playing their part and all contributing to the final scoreline. Indeed, it did leave some questioning whose club this is!

Man of the Match (MoM) : Conor “Fitch” Doherty (and it wasn’t just for his massive guns  and tight t-shirt)

Dick of the Day (DoD): Simon “Relentless” Gittins

Present: Greg “Benny Lava” Evans, Steven “NSG” Van der Voort, Will “Fluffer” Brown, Todd “Toad” Portsmore , Mark “Bungle” Brazier, Glenn “Fingers” Shirley, Andy “Tyler” Chambers, Simon “Buffy” Buffler, Nick “Cesar” Bayvel, Connor “Fitch” Doherty, Simon “Relentless” Gittins, “Simon “Towner” Towns, George “Babs” Miller, Leo “Lionel” Hauet, Chris “Scott Ramsey” Turner, Ollie “?” Brew

Why I mention this you ask? Well, unfortunately, we have to start todays corner at the end. The end of Buke. It seems we knew him for so short a time. My Club actually remarked to me on Sunday that it was one of the most painful experiences a father can go through, watching one of his own children pass away before him. For those of you that have not heard, I am saddened to inform you that Buke finally succumbed to his long fight with Wearingthetrousersitis. He had battled so hard in the recent months to hold on to the little power and dignity he had left, but alas, this is a crippling and ugly disease that will leave you weak and emasculated when it has had its way with you. And I assure you, once gone, the Trousers can never be recovered.

The final moments are not pretty but I feel it is my duty to recount them to you all, he would have wanted it that way.

As some of you may recall in my last entry, a small group attended the clubhouse for some post match social hijinx and folly. Now Buke knew he should not have gone, not with his condition tenuous at best. But he is a fighter. He stayed until the late hours of the evening, he drank thru the pain, he disregarded the danger, and consumed like a champion. He did this with little regard for his own personal health or the safety of those around him. By God, if he was going to go out, he was going to go on top, but he was going to go. And so it was that the very same evening after getting into bed with his better half next to him, he finally gave in. And by gave in I mean threw up all over his lovely girlfriend.

Now, I have been told on several occasions (usually by my wonderful mother, Mrs Sheridan) that I am not mad at you, I am just disappointed. Well, it actually turns out that Mrs Buke was both mad AND disappointed. She made it quite clear that there would be no more of this behavior tolerated, and, as she had warned him would happen should he continue to behave in such a childish and reckless manor, she took out her samurai sword from beneath the bed and loped off Bukes legs.

Thus he is no longer able to wear the Trousers (this might also explain the goalkeeping display on Sunday!). Good luck Buke, if you find RGG while you are dragging yourself around in your naked wasteland can you let him know that he still owes us Subs for this year?

There is actually quite a lot to get to this week, so I actually will have to apologize for my brevity in describing to you all how entirely VG, NSG was this weekend. See rather than attend a little soiree I was throwing in honor of his hair on Friday evening, NSG decided it would be more beneficial to him and other dutchies to start a Dutch Voyeurs of America group. Now this type of behavior may fly when your only neighbors are perennial white flag wavers, and a country best known for being more neutral than Vanilla, and its waffles. But let me tell you this, thats not America, thats not even Mexico!

I can only further lament his decision in choosing his first target. For it seems the DVofAs inaugural field trip was to go a watch the Womens march on Washington over the weekend. NSG was lucky to make it out alive, Zippy was less lucky. They caught him and shaved off all his wonderful Dutch hair. So sorry Zippy I know how much it means to you guys.

I should also mention our new friend Fitch not only did he show up at my little beerpong shingdig on Friday wearing quite possibly the tightest t-shirt since NSGs World Champion 07 effort (ironically of the A&F variety!), but he then missed the huge game v Rye because he was entertaining his parents. We all know that parents get a much better and accurate depiction of the life of an Englishman in New York by bringing them to a game to watch your athletic endeavors and then watch you embarrass yourself at the post match circle!

Which finally brings us to Sunday afternoon after the hockey. A quick congrats to the ladies on the win, a fine one from what I understand, but only one of you has the staying power of a very liquored up Ben je Nat?. There is a lot I could say here about her performance in the bar, none of which would be complimentary. But instead I will reward what was a very solid effort indeed, staying from her 9am game to come out with the boys after our own 3.40pm game. That type of club support would never be expected, but will most certainly be applauded.

Alas, where there is a ying, there is a yang, and Zippy, if you thought you were getting away with one of the worst Irish exits of all time, just after dumping half of your beverage that you could not manage on the floor, you are mistaken. I will give you the benefit of the doubt this once, after a savage feminist beating I will chalk this once up to PTSD, but you have been warned!

Well done to all those who did stay, it was a good turn out, and we once again proved how much more awesome we are than Rye. Not on the pitch obviously, we will save that for the play-offs. It should be noted that there were a couple of their ladies who had some staying power, as well as An*l. But I refuse to give credit to that filthy northerner, Monkey. His imbibing skills are the crude product of being bought up on the drink since the age of three, no doubt somewhere in a scouce dockyard. And he has no manners. Normally I would be worried about him reading this and coming after me with the nearest blunt instrument he can find, but I have good reason to question his ability to read coming from Liverpool and all.

That is just about it from me, but no blog would be complete without mention how onerous Australians are. Well some of them. I am sure some are fine people, I even lived there for 5 of the better years of my life and found a few to be exceptionally kind, and on the rare occasion even able to understand the Queens English. But sometimes their unshakeable belief that they are king of everything and never wrong at all becomes boring. And I am not even talking about Fingers. He was fairly well behaved Sunday evening. She shall remain nameless (since I have forgotten her actual name; she did however resemble a member of the Jersey Shore cast..) but I have seen less petulance from toddlers who have had their favorite Spongebob episode cut midway through. I will defend you this once My Club, your attempt at humor/compliment, however ill-conceived, was no reason for her to spend the rest of the evening with the look on her face like a man who constantly thinks he had left the gas turned on.

Groomer

Upcoming Social events. Mark your calendars!

Allow me if you will, a moment to reminisce. None too long ago I was a young precocious lad, on the slight side of muscular in stature, handsome, with an unshakeable confidence in life and all that it was due to bring me. I was receiving the finest education an ill-gotten income could buy. Yes, life was very good. I excelled on the sports field, a scholar in the class room, and quite popular with the ladies as well. It is amusing how little has changed. However what has changed is my appreciation for the finer things, and moments in my, or indeed anyones life. At a younger age I was fairly satisfied to let them pass by without a second thought, but gifts in life should be cherished and savored. I will be eternally grateful to a mister Joseph Cunningham for teaching me this lesson. Ironic really that his initials were J.C., he certainly did have an air of the divine about him. But it was one morning, when I was around 16, sitting at a desk in Jesus philosophy class he informed us that we would be writing our own obituary. The obvious point of the exercise was to make us appreciate that life was indeed finite, and that no one, no matter how omnipresent, or omnipotent would be able to escape the reaper when he came to call.

Why I mention this you ask? Well, unfortunately, we have to start todays corner at the end. The end of Buke. It seems we knew him for so short a time. My Club actually remarked to me on Sunday that it was one of the most painful experiences a father can go through, watching one of his own children pass away before him. For those of you that have not heard, I am saddened to inform you that Buke finally succumbed to his long fight with Wearingthetrousersitis. He had battled so hard in the recent months to hold on to the little power and dignity he had left, but alas, this is a crippling and ugly disease that will leave you weak and emasculated when it has had its way with you. And I assure you, once gone, the Trousers can never be recovered.

The final moments are not pretty but I feel it is my duty to recount them to you all, he would have wanted it that way.

As some of you may recall in my last entry, a small group attended the clubhouse for some post match social hijinx and folly. Now Buke knew he should not have gone, not with his condition tenuous at best. But he is a fighter. He stayed until the late hours of the evening, he drank thru the pain, he disregarded the danger, and consumed like a champion. He did this with little regard for his own personal health or the safety of those around him. By God, if he was going to go out, he was going to go on top, but he was going to go. And so it was that the very same evening after getting into bed with his better half next to him, he finally gave in. And by gave in I mean threw up all over his lovely girlfriend.

Now, I have been told on several occasions (usually by my wonderful mother, Mrs Sheridan) that I am not mad at you, I am just disappointed. Well, it actually turns out that Mrs Buke was both mad AND disappointed. She made it quite clear that there would be no more of this behavior tolerated, and, as she had warned him would happen should he continue to behave in such a childish and reckless manor, she took out her samurai sword from beneath the bed and loped off Bukes legs.

Thus he is no longer able to wear the Trousers (this might also explain the goalkeeping display on Sunday!). Good luck Buke, if you find RGG while you are dragging yourself around in your naked wasteland can you let him know that he still owes us Subs for this year?

There is actually quite a lot to get to this week, so I actually will have to apologize for my brevity in describing to you all how entirely VG, NSG was this weekend. See rather than attend a little soiree I was throwing in honor of his hair on Friday evening, NSG decided it would be more beneficial to him and other dutchies to start a Dutch Voyeurs of America group. Now this type of behavior may fly when your only neighbors are perennial white flag wavers, and a country best known for being more neutral than Vanilla, and its waffles. But let me tell you this, thats not America, thats not even Mexico!

I can only further lament his decision in choosing his first target. For it seems the DVofAs inaugural field trip was to go a watch the Womens march on Washington over the weekend. NSG was lucky to make it out alive, Zippy was less lucky. They caught him and shaved off all his wonderful Dutch hair. So sorry Zippy I know how much it means to you guys.

I should also mention our new friend Fitch not only did he show up at my little beerpong shingdig on Friday wearing quite possibly the tightest t-shirt since NSGs World Champion 07 effort (ironically of the A&F variety!), but he then missed the huge game v Rye because he was entertaining his parents. We all know that parents get a much better and accurate depiction of the life of an Englishman in New York by bringing them to a game to watch your athletic endeavors and then watch you embarrass yourself at the post match circle!

Which finally brings us to Sunday afternoon after the hockey. A quick congrats to the ladies on the win, a fine one from what I understand, but only one of you has the staying power of a very liquored up Ben je Nat?. There is a lot I could say here about her performance in the bar, none of which would be complimentary. But instead I will reward what was a very solid effort indeed, staying from her 9am game to come out with the boys after our own 3.40pm game. That type of club support would never be expected, but will most certainly be applauded.

Alas, where there is a ying, there is a yang, and Zippy, if you thought you were getting away with one of the worst Irish exits of all time, just after dumping half of your beverage that you could not manage on the floor, you are mistaken. I will give you the benefit of the doubt this once, after a savage feminist beating I will chalk this once up to PTSD, but you have been warned!

Well done to all those who did stay, it was a good turn out, and we once again proved how much more awesome we are than Rye. Not on the pitch obviously, we will save that for the play-offs. It should be noted that there were a couple of their ladies who had some staying power, as well as An*l. But I refuse to give credit to that filthy northerner, Monkey. His imbibing skills are the crude product of being bought up on the drink since the age of three, no doubt somewhere in a scouce dockyard. And he has no manners. Normally I would be worried about him reading this and coming after me with the nearest blunt instrument he can find, but I have good reason to question his ability to read coming from Liverpool and all.

That is just about it from me, but no blog would be complete without mention how onerous Australians are. Well some of them. I am sure some are fine people, I even lived there for 5 of the better years of my life and found a few to be exceptionally kind, and on the rare occasion even able to understand the Queens English. But sometimes their unshakeable belief that they are king of everything and never wrong at all becomes boring. And I am not even talking about Fingers. He was fairly well behaved Sunday evening. She shall remain nameless (since I have forgotten her actual name; she did however resemble a member of the Jersey Shore cast..) but I have seen less petulance from toddlers who have had their favorite Spongebob episode cut midway through. I will defend you this once My Club, your attempt at humor/compliment, however ill-conceived, was no reason for her to spend the rest of the evening with the look on her face like a man who constantly thinks he had left the gas turned on.

Groomer

Upcoming Social events. Mark your calendars!

Gabriel “Uday” Prudencio was Man of the Match and Rudi “Zippy” Ariians was Dck of the Day.

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