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By Natasha
- Moe's Tavern Shopper
- The Winston Churchill Edition
- Not that I'm comparing us to him
- After all, he probably had more women.
"It's not enough that we do our best; sometimes we have to do what's required."
Like an inebriated Diana Ross at Heathrow airport, Moe's Tavern wasn't about to be manhandled on Sunday afternoon. Even when Tom's team made a late charge, we clung to our lead with the tenacity of a pit bull. Substitute goalie Dale came up huge for us in the early going before our offense found its groove. The newly minted Dad Line dictated the pace when they were on the floor. Every time our opponents seemed poised to make a run, we found a way to take back the momentum, shut them down, throw them off their game. We may not have made the right plays every time, but we did make the necessary plays all the time. Final tally: 6-5.
"Although prepared for martyrdom, I preferred that it be postponed."
I'm not even going to pretend that there are any other contenders for the
coveted Aspen Edge Player of the Game Award besides myself and Tricia. I'm
not saying the guys didn't work their tails off, because goodness knows they
did. But does anyone really want to take on The Bruise That Ate Manhattan?
Didn't think so. Ultimately, I'm giving the award to Tricia. She had so much
residual alcohol in her system we're lucky she didn't burst into flames when
Tom hit her. And yet, she finished the game.
"Never hold discussions with the monkey when the organ grinder is in the
room."
Did anyone else get a vaguely Edward Gorey-esque apparition-type of feeling
off that random guy who was parked in our locker room the whole game? It's
like he was there, but he wasn't. And, like, who was he anyway? My favorite
moment was when Tricia and I were frantically hydrating during a time out.
He kinda patted me on the shoulder as I was running back on the floor, like
he really wanted me to know he was there for me. Kinda of like Terry, only
absolutely silent. Like, thanks for the love, human non-sequitur.
"All great things are simple."
This week's quote of the game was supplied by the not-Tom who hit me. During
post-game handshakes, he smiled sheepishly and told me, "Tom was slacking
off. I had to pick up for him."
"The price of greatness is responsibility."
OK, team. We're on at 1:00 this week and playing a team that in the early
weeks seems to have acquitted itself quite well. We will be on our 4th
goalie in as many games when "Oxygen" Emery suits up for a one-game
renaissance. We will be without Tricia, who will be nursing her hangover
with more alcohol in Cabo. Greg, are you in? Steve and I weren't sure. We
should see the return of Jimmy and rumors abound that Marty and Casey will
also stop by for a cup of coffee Moes-style. If Casey doesn't make I'll cry.
I mean that.
If anyone else will not make the game, please let Steve know. And hey, sorry for the sub-standard Shopper. The not-Tom hit me in my funny arm.
[Shopper ends.]