Hockey of Thanks: 2010 – Return of the Beta One Chrononaut

Kohl: No, no, no, Doc, we just got here, OK, Mike Sokiveta's here; we're gonna play some hockey.

Doc: Well, bring him along. This concerns him too.

Boo: Wait a minute, Doc. What are you talking about? What happens to us in the future? What, do we become <Explicative Deleted> or something?

Doc: No, no, no, no, no, Boo, both you and CRAAB turn out fine. It's the one you call Samurai Steve, aka The Ryth, aka Shyne, aka Prime. Something has got to be done about Steve Crandell!

In a flash the Doc had a newspaper clipping out from his radiation suit and under their noses.

Doc: I've traced the events that lead to the complete collapse of society back to THIS VERY GAME OF STREET HOCKEY!

Kohl: So what do we do, Doc?

Doc: It is absolutely imperative that you do not allow Steve to score a single goal today!

Everyone: Whaaaaaaaaaa?!!!

Boo: Uh, Doc? Steve has never once in all the seventeen years that we've played hockey NOT scored a goal.

Kohl: Yeah, he's consistently dominated the top spot on James McKay's list. YOU ASK THE IMPOSSIBLE!

Doc: I don't care how you do it. Just don't let him score!!! Life as we know it depends on it!

<FASHHH! FASHH! FAAAASHHHHHHHHHH!!!!>

. . . And he was gone.

Boo: What are we going to do?

Kohl: Well maybe Steve won't show up?

Steve: Hey, guys!

And thus the teams were drawn up and, tepidly, our heroes began what quickly became the oddest and most trying game of Hockey they ever encountered.

Kohl: OK, I think I'm done.

Boo: Good Hockey everyone!

Steve: I don't know if you guys noticed, but . . . I didn't score.

Boo: What?!!!

Kohl: You didn't?!!!

Steve: Not once. That's never happened to me.

Kohl: Huh . . . Well, it happens to me all the time.

Boo: Not me.

Steve: Well, I'm taking off.

Boo: See you later, Steve!

Steve: Later.

Kohl: Wait for it . . .

<VOMIT EVERYWHERE>

GOOD HOCKEY, HAPPY THANKSGIVING, and a MERRY NON-ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE, EVERYONE!

The Motorball Course

Drawn entirely from memory in 2001

MotorBall Association

A CRAAB Christmas Hockey Carol

December 22nd 2009, 2100 hours, Beverly Building.

It had rained all day, at one point had even hailed. The unprecedented number of players from all over CRAABdom who were answering affirmatively to the last minute call to arms made the probability of canceling due to inclement weather sting like a raptor kick to the nervous system. However, when I drove by the court at 8 PM it had not been raining for a couple of hours, and though the court was drenched, the water wasn't pooling and that meant we could play. Hockey was on!

Team Marley, Marley & Scrooge were as good as their word, showing up 30 minutes before any other CRAAB players. The wager this time? The winning team would receive a life altering vision on Christmas Eve night . . . and the losers would receive crippling self-doubt and rusty blades.

Because CRAAB outnumbered Team Marley, Marley, & Scrooge by four players, we had to divide up into three teams and rotate in.

I would give a play by play description of the sopping wet Hockey that went down between CRAAB and Team Marley, Marley & Scrooge but, in the spirit of the season, I'll refrain. Instead I will simply say that we lost and Team Marley, Marley & Scrooge left the court that rainy winter night whooping their battle cry and boasting how big the turkeys they will buy for their employees will be . . . once they have their change of heart.

Though the crushing blow of defeat stung like an inclement weather canceled hockey game, it was undeniable that a general feeling of goodwill for our fellow man was palpable in the air . . . which incidentally feels exactly like playing a great game of Hockey.

God bless us, every one!

Hockey of Thanks: 2009 - "For the first time since 1945 the World hangs in the balance!"

The year 2009 will be recorded in The Chronicles of the Blade as the year that CRAAB Hockey saved Democracy. It was also the first year we had a team to play against.

It was early Thanksgiving morning, November 26th, 2009 when I arrived at Emerson's Parking Lot. Team Der Hockey Frau's manager, "The Major", already had his players out on the court and warming up when I got there. Of course, I was the first CRAAB member there.

"It's post-8 AM and your team of Combat Rebels is suspiciously tardy. Perhaps zis is some kind of joke?"

"Only a joke on your punctuality, Toht. It'll be another 45 minutes before enough CRAABs show up to play."

"Well played, Herr Glass, but it will be the last time you have zee uppa hand."

. . . and for the most part, he was right.

The teams were:

Der Hockey Frau

VS

The Defenders of the Free World

The Fraus came out fast and strong, taking a precarious lead over the complacent CRAAB. "Hey, no body checking . . . at least not on purpose!"

By the second water break CRAAB was down by four goals . . . by the third, six.

The nonagenarian Fraus were handing out the seats of CRAAB pants with such an unrelenting efficiency that things were not looking good for us or the American Way of Life.

As the end of the game neared, it appeared that all was lost . . . but remember, that's when the miracles happen, just like the one that happened that bright Thanksgiving Morning.

Actually, it was a miracle in three parts.
1. Steve "took one for the team" when Major Toht called for a play known as The Face Melter, bringing CRAAB within three points behind the Fraus before losing consciousness.
2. At that moment Josh rolled over in bed, thought about Hockey, and then fell back asleep.
3. Right then the phone rang. It was the President of the United States and he wanted to speak to Caleb McKay.

In a rally of renewed determination CRAAB tied up the score with the Fraus.

"Next point wins"

Three taps on the ground, three on the stick, and the fury was unleashed. CRAAB and the Fraus exchanged control of the ball seventy six times in an unparalleled display of the velocity combat of stick and blade.

Suddenly the ball was knocked high and wide, and when it landed Wesley Burnham was the only one near it. As he lined up the shot, Wesley called on the spirits of of all the turkeys that lost their lives for Thanksgiving 2009 to guide his shot.

"Gestapo Spank!"
The Frau goal tender dropped into the splits reaching for the orange blur . . . "but not today" . . . the ball glanced off the edge of her glove and spun wild through the net-less goal.

"CRAAB WINS!!! CRAAB WINS!!!

LET FREEDOM RING!!!!"

As the Fraus packed up and departed, we all stood for the Pledge of Allegiance, and it was said in Mesa that day, that there wasn't a free dry eye within a 40 yard spread Emerson Parking Lot.

"That was some good Hockey."

Catalyst of Hockey

by Tim Boyle (2001)

Fare-Thee-Well Hockey: July 2009

Boy: Grandfather, tell my a story!
Grandfather: Alright, go and get your storybook.
Boy: No, no, not one of those, a real story!
Grandfather: A real story?
Boy: Yes, tell me about when you were a boy.
Grandfather: Well, then, I shall have to take you back with me, a long way in time...



It was the evening of the eighteenth day of the seventh month
Of the two thousand and ninth year of our Lord.
As I walked through the old neighborhood, I heard the sound of blades, and speed,
I felt compelled to walk on and find the place of these sounds,
And when the houses did clear I was standing
On the fabled battlefield of Beverly.

Suddenly a gust of wind came up from the North,
There appeared a lone player, holding a mighty hockey stick,
Then from the east came another, also bearing a hockey stick of power,
And finally from the west, a player who also wielded a great hockey stick of war.
They were few in number but the look in their eyes told all who
Beheld them that they would leave this day
Only in victory or death.
And there was a Great silence...

I watched the three players raise their weapons into the air.
And the three spoke the words of the Hockey Warriors Prayer.

"Gods of Acceleration I call you,
My stick is by my side.
I seek a life of honor,
Free from all false pride.
I will shoot goals with a bold mighty hail.
Cover me with death if I should ever fail.
Glory, majesty, unity
Hail, hail, hail."

And as I stood and looked on, I heard the
Armies of the world hail them without end,
And their voices of victory carried
Long and far throughout the land
As they met on the battlefield with a mighty clash!
I could feel the ground shake,
The earth drank much blood that day.
Each of the three, was unto himself, a whirlwind of doom!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Grandfather: Well, that's it, did you like the story?
Boy: Yeah, it was great!
Grandfather: Oh good, I'm glad. now off to bed with you.
Boy: Grandfather?
Grandfather: Yes?
Boy: Who were those three men?
Grandfather: Who were they? They were Boo, Caleb, and Kohl . . . the HOCKEY KINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!*

So how did we play with three players? By an act of sheer WILL. We played 2 vs 1, rotating after each goal. Surprisingly it wasn't all that bad . . . though it was exhausting. We only played for a little bit then went swimming at the Lovely Oleander Pool.

This upcoming August marks the first time in the history of CRAAB that there will not be enough consistent hockey players in Mesa to hold "regular" hockey games. What will be Hockey's role in CRAAB's future? That is unforeseen. I'm sure The Hockey of Thanks will still be held annually, as will other special hockey events . . . but the casualness of CRAAB Hockey, the, "Hey, I want to play hockey, let's plan a game for this weekend" is leaving for that special Motorball place. NO!!! I will find a way to keep you alive CRAAB Hockey . . . I will not let you go quietly into the night!!!

*Inspired by The Warrior's Prayer by Manowar