Episode One:
“A League Of Our Own” Or “It Dries On White And Crusty, eh?”
A long time ago, in a Canadian providence far, far away….
Did anyone else just hear an orchestra led by John Williams? Hmm…
Where was I? Oh yeah!
Back in March of 2009, Kevin Smith posted the following on his message baord at ViewAskew.com (do not go there now, it shut down years ago):
“Christmas comes early: I will sponsor any board teams. You pick your players, your names, your jerseys, I’ll pay your entrance fee.
I suggest putting together teams of 6 (four, a goalie, and an alt). The play is broken into two 15 minute periods, so one alternate should be fine. Don’t know if there’s even 18 eligible players on this board (and by “eligible”, I mean “willing to make the trip to Brantford”), but I’ll take care of up to three teams’ tournament entrance fees.
C’mon, motherfuckers: you know you wanna score on me.”
That post set off a chain of events that changed the lives of many people forever.
Myself included.
The teams that first year were Puck U (Kevin’s team), The Leonardo Reapers (Captained by Mark Diccico), The Monroeville Zombies (Captained by Mark Bell) and the Vulgarians (Captained by Michael McCutcheon and mentioned last because they always come in first…or so they like to boast).
Me? I saw the post but did not inquire on joining any of the teams. I was out of shape, never played on a team except for a game of pick up baseball or football and lastly, I’m a girl (I know. I am as shocked as you are). Other than Kevin’s team, it was a sausage fest and I myself prefer the fish.
So after my best friend (whom I also met through that same message board) asked if me and my girlfriend wanted to go up there to watch and root the teams on, I got our passports and packed our bags for our three hour trip to the motherland.
Brantford, Ontario Canada.
Birthplace of the telephone and The Great One.
Wayne Gretzky and an even greater one, his father Walter.
If you do not know who Walter Gretzky is, first of all, shame on you (though I never heard of him until 2009). Other than the late Ernie Harwell (google it fuckers), I have never met a more kind and generous man. He always made it a point to visit with every team, at every rink, and say hello to and thank as many people as possible for coming.
So Kt, Amanda and I traveled into Brantford and for three days, hung out with fellow boardies and watched them play hockey.
Then something happened:
I opened my big fat mouth.
I mentioned out loud to Kt that street hockey looked like fun. Then she turned and looked at me and said, “It does. We should totally start a girl’s team.”
Maybe she didn’t hear me right. I said, “It looked like fun.” Not, “Wow. All that dry heaving from running up and down the rink sure looks like something I want to do for 30 minutes at a time!! Golly geez whiz!”
No matter, within a day, we had the makings of what would be the all girls team for the VASHL. The View Askew Girls or The V.A.G. for short (one of the most popular jerseys I always find from the comments at the tournament as well as in your local lesbian bar).
On the last night we all decided to go to a local strip club called “Seductions.” A bar where, to quote Brian “Tennesee” Maxwell, “We should go there, kick open the door and yell “TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES!”
Not an exact quote but work with me here.
In my car were Grace, Kt, Amanda, I think Brad (or Paul, not sure) and myself. Well, we got lost. So we see a casino and pop in thinking, someone here has to know where this fucking place is. We see a couple walking from the door and Grace rolls down her window and asks, “Excuse me. Do either of you know where we can find Seductions?”
To which the guy says, “Not right now.”
I never laughed so damn hard. I had tears coming from my eyes. Amazingly, we did not crash into anything. We saw a little old man on a tricycle but thought better than to ask.
It was at that club that I learned never, ever put a Canadian five dollar bill into my mouth ever again. If you do not know why, just get the mental image of the face huggers from “Alien” only replace them with Canadian beaver.
I also learned that, while the majority of the dancers were “natural” they needed to have a mesquito bite their chests a few more times. I was beginning to feel like any second, Chris Hanson from “To catch a Predator” was going to come in and ask *why I was looking at underage kids dancing on a stage.
The highlight of the whole trip had to be Kt and her sunburn. She got a very lively sunburn on her chest and everyone, and I do mean EVERYONE, remarked on it.
“That is one nasty burn you got there eh?”
The best was this little old Canadian couple in the supermarket across the street. The little old lady remarked on her burn and then offered the following home remedy:
“My doctor told me that when you get a bad sunburn, you should put Milk of Magnesia on it. Sure it dries on white and crusty but it soothes the burn.”
Considering the combination of the location of her burn and white and crusty, I was having a damn hard time not pissing myself from laughing.
Who knew a medicated “money shot” was good for sunburns?
Ron Jeremy maybe?
Anyway, long story short (too late), that weekend, many strangers got together. Some to play hockey. Others to watch and root them on.
All leaving as if they found family.
Granted, family some may fondle but family none the less.
Oh shit, is that Chris Hanson!?!
Until next time.
*I assure you, all the dancers were of legal age.
