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Archive for "Dec 09 2006"

Billy Smith Forever

I watched Marty pull a puck out of the net tonight; slap a guy with his stick, and almost start a goalstep fight….

He got nothing on MY Guy…

img2924137med.jpgThey slapped together a list of Hockey’s Toughest Bastards that is almost laughable for the guys they ignored: no Nicky? No Tiger? No Teddy Green? No Jacques Plante after getting his face blown out and coming back wearing a mask? No Gordie?

And some of the pansies they pumped up (Lemieux #1?… are you fucking kidding me?) causes wonder if anyone there knows a damn thing about the game.

The Little Flower was tougher than Lemieux could ever do… and Yvan could steal his skates….

But my All-Time Guy, MY HERO! My sport (which is life, issnit it?) psychological mentor (sorry, Thurman), righteously earned his way in to their rankings because
HE KICKED ASS.

8. BILLY SMITH

one_smith03.jpg

Tough Guy Cred: Did nothing to dispel the notion that all goalies are batshit insane. “Battlin'” Billy Smith hated the other team. Not in a healthy, competitive way, but in a dangerous way. He still holds the record for most penalty minutes by a goaltender* for his liberal use of a goal stick. He also once got so angry at Mike Bossy that Smith had to be tackled and held down to keep from killing the superstar—and they were teammates at the time.

See? I told you stay the fuck out my crease. I don’t wanna hear that shit about me breaking your ankle anymore, Little Joe! And Imbro? You’re lucky I didn’t deuce that knee, cochise.

Now go find me Karbowski!

*= unless some kid went nuts, I pawn that (plus a couple of others) record on Staten Island. At Farrell: first win; first shutout. Single season goaltender penalty minutes.

I hit more guys with my broadsword, and caught more zebra minutes, …. It got to the point that Dicky Cottone, goalie for arch-bastards Wagner– was yelling at me from the other end of the rink one night: “What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you dare get your ass thrown out, Red. We gotta go beat those fuckers from Jersey!”

That was how I found out–and got thrown off for a day or two before everything got settled–that I’d made the All Stars.

I immediately began plotting Cottone getting a broken leg.

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I Should Not Be Allowed Anywhere Near a Deck When I’m Drunk

So I’m e-mailing back and forth with Gaius, about his site getting heinously hammered, and suddenly–well, not suddenly, considering–we’re skipping down the “when found, we gotta SHOOT this prick!” conversations…..

And then it comes to me: no ninjas!

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