By Guest Moe, Dizzy

• Moe's Tavern Shopper
  
• 'brought to you' brought to you by Cate
  
• 'cause Dizzy didn't write one

These things are entwined.

Woodsy and I exchanged concerned glances during warm-ups. Where were the guys? The extra yang to balance the yin? The male backbone that makes the tavern an offensive juggernaut (that is to say, a team that scores a lot. That is, a team which moves its front end deep into the rear of the opposition...ah, hell, I'm not sure what I mean).

And furthermore, where was Marty?

Three minutes of crazed running around after the faceoff, and I was looking into the locker room to see if there were some subs there whom I had, you know, overlooked. I was out of position, out of breath, and out of luck.

Woodsy ripped one in from the left wing.

I was happy. I was still tired, and sorry I had ever lacked sympathy for The Gender for Which There Are Occasionally No Substitutes.

Rhodes arrived. Woodsy and I almost came to blows on who would sit first. Rhodes scored. The first half ended well enough; we were in control, but up just 2-1.

Marty arrived just after the second half started, dashing in like the cavalry--or, as it seemed to me then, like Lloyd Bridges arriving in the control tower in Airplane!

"Looks like I picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue," he said. "And why are we only winning by one?" I could not explain it. He made it a moot point, thereafter. We sorta whipped up on 'em. "It's not about the score," Marty said. "It's about the W or L at the end of the day."

In other news, the game set a record for Most Ricochets Off the Pipes. Sean looked sharp as ever. I learned later that Ellen, whom I thought was new to the team, actually goes way back to the early days of Moe. I learned also, fortunately through second-hand observation, that You Do Not Want to Cross Her, no sir. Lady's throwing some elbows. When the team is ready, an enforcer will appear.

To her, I say: Nice defender. Here kitty, kitty. And to you, gentle readers, I say: this team needs more redheads.

For several minutes, I thought rookie Jennifer Tescher was going to need an instructional pep talk; she appeared to be holding her stick wrong. Her husband, covering the game as part of the Wall Street Journal's investigation of Fraudulent Sports Leagues and Their Effect on the Bear Market, told me that in fact the position of her hands on the stick was fine; she's a lefty, he informed me, and anyhow I should stop talking about her like that.

Tescher claimed ignorance of the sport's finer techniques, but it was clear that she had pored over the home video of "A Season to Remember;"at one heated point, when the other team's big star was on the point looking to fire (and does he fire, you must admit), she employed a rather practiced version of the patented Moe's Flop defense, which some observers say saved the championship.

Tescher was sliding around a good bit. Cate told her about the patented tract-o-matic, mouth to palm to sole gesture.

It's called spit, rook. Use it.

Speaking of Cate: rock solid, as ever. And unusually voluble, I might add, owing to caffeine intake. Wipe that grin off your face, soldier.

Natasha was having so much fun she hugged me when she came off the ice, one time.

Cate is requesting bios from Dizzy, Eric, New Jen City, Jenny (known hereafter as Casey), Ellen, Monica the sub, and Jonathan the sub (no relation). Send to cnolan@ignitemedia.com.

Web address for those needing bio examples: www.s2f.com/cate/moes, and click on roster.

In other news: fee details for the season, to come.

And finally: There is no explaining the perfect nickname, so I won't try. But maybe it helps. Woodsy, whom Natasha has dubbed New Hampshire, was ON FIRE, ripping a hat trick while never ceasing to look surprised about it. One might say he was the Primary scorer. After the game he told me it was luck. Puh-leeze. He told Steve and Marty he had finally figured out that stuff about staying in position.

Does this mean--pant, pant--I'll score, too, if I just--huff, huff--stay in position? One should always try to be in position to score...

- dizzy