Dec 24, 2017 | GeoffRead | 532 views
The Coach Who Stole Victory
Every Hawk down in London liked competiton a lot
But Coach Worby who lived up in Wickerson did NOT!
Coach Worby hated competitions, the whole hockey season!
Now, please don't ask why, no one quite knows the reasons.
It could be his cap wasn't fitting just right. It could be, most possibly, that his pants were too tight.
But I think the most likely reason of all, may have been that his beer was two sizes too small.
Whatever the reason, his cap or his jeans,
He stood there on Festivus, feeling quite mean
Staring down from his bench with a sour, Coachy frown.
At the warm pre-teen faces, the Hawks of West London renown
For he knew every Hawk at Carling Arena
Had practiced so badly, it made him feel meaner
"And they're hanging their jerseys!" he snarled with a sneer,
"Today is the big game! It's practically here!"
Then he growled, with his Coach hands nervously swinging
"I MUST find some way to stop North London from winning!"
For at game time, he knew, all the little North London pips,
Would skate bright and early. They'd rush for their sticks!
And then! Oh, the tricks! Oh, the tricks! Tricks! Tricks! Tricks! T
That's one thing he hated! The TRICKS! TRICKS! TRICKS! TRICKS!
Then North players, forwards and D, would take to the ice.
Wearing whites! Wearing whites! Wearing WHITES WHITES WHITES WHITES!
They would play a hockey game, and play it like beasts.
Which was something Coach Worby couldn't stand in the least!
And THEN They'd do something he liked least of all!
Every National from North London, the tall and the small,
Would skate close together, and do some show boating.
They'd skate hand-in-hand. And the Nationals would start gloating!
They'd gloat! And they'd gloat! And they'd GLOAT! GLOAT! GLOAT! GLOAT!
And the more the Coach thought of this National Festivus gloat,
The more the Coach thought, "I must write down a note!"
"Why, for 2-3 months I've put up with it now!"
"I MUST stop this defeat from coming! But HOW?"
Then he got an idea! A fantastic idea! THE COACH GOT A WONDERFUL, FANTASTIC IDEA!
"I know just what to do!" Coach Worby laughed in his throat.
And he made a quick lineup, and threw on his coat.
And he chuckled and clucked, "What a great Coaching trick!"
With DiCicco and Owen, we'll wrap this up quick!"
"All I need is Cole Chick..." The Coach looked around.
But since Cole Chick can be scarce, he couldn't be found.
Did that stop the old Coach? No! The Coach simply said:
"If I can't have Cole Chick, I'll use Senese instead!"
So he called his trainer Liam, and he took the game sheet.
And the two thought of all the ways they could cheat.
THEN he loaded his defense, with terrifc skaters
Named Weber, Grover, Hodgins, and Baker
Then the ref said, "Game on!" And the clock started counting.
In his Hawks, Coach Worby was no longer doubting.
But the Nationals pressed the play - they were playing well.
And on the bench Coach Worby was in his own private hell.
Brendan Walsh held the fort - the Nationals couldn't score.
But then they did, at the end of the first, what a bore!
"This was goal number one," old Coach Worby hissed,
And he climbed on the boards, and shook his small fist.
Then he told his charges, "that's their last goal!
Otherwise we'll be in a much deeper hole!"
The Hawks went on the offense- they pressed the attack
But the Nationals' goalie earned his contract
He turned the Hawks aside, all in a row.
"These shots," he grinned, "have all got to go!"
So Coach Worby slithered and slunk, with a smile most unpleasant
The thing looked like some awful broken half-crescent
Slap shots! And passes! Snap Shots! And sweat!
Wristers! And blisters! Stickhandling! But no net!
Then Nathan Senese, thinking ever so nimbly.
Passed the puck to Callum Knapp, very soft, very primly
Matt Hodgins crashed the net, with reckless abandon
But 'twas Knapp who shot it in, like a ball from a cannon
The game was now on, the Hawks came wave after wave
But the North London goalie made save after save
Then Owen Worby came down the left side of the ice
And saw Zach Read driving the net like a cat after mice
He shot the puck hard, he shot the puck low
He thought he might score, but in it did not go
But there was a rebound, Read took a big swipe!
But he missed it, and it sat there, like a fruit that was ripe
Worby followed his shot, and he picked up that fruit
And stuffed it in the net, the big lanky galoot
The score was now 2-1, the Hawks were in the lead
But the game was not over, and Hawks would surely need
Walsh at his best, to take home the win
They backchecked, they broke out, they played with great vim
Then Matt DiCicco tripped some North London goon
And the coaches thought this might be the Hawks' collective high noon
But Coach Worby thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick.
One has to admit, it was a pretty good trick
"Why, my sweet little ref," the crafty Coach Worby lied
"DiCicco saw that player falling, and was concerned for his pride."
"So he put his stick there, and made it look like a hook."
"Hoping that the poor National like a fool would not look"
And his fib fooled the ref. Then he patted his arm,
And he got him the puck - it worked like a charm!
And when the referee went to centre with the puck.
Coach Worby knew that his team was in luck.
Then the last thing that happened in the best game of the age
Was that Coach Worby moved Hodgins back on D: what a sage!
For North London, Hodgins left nothing but bruises and frustration
And the Nationals suffered hockey damnation
And the one juicy rebound Walsh left in the crease
Was cleared by Baker and Grover - the defence police!
The same thing happened all over the rink
The Hawks gave the Natioanals no time to think
It was a quarter to three when the buzzer did sound
And the Hawks finally nailed their sweet victory down
So they went to the locker room, and packed up their bags
As they did so, the odour made all their fans gag
The stench was intense, but the victory so sweet
You could almost ignore that the Hawks smelled like bad meat
Weber's bag was the worst - it smelled like gangrene
Quite frankly, the whole stink was pretty obscene
Coach Worby smiled, but just for a second
His moment had come, he had to reckon
"PoohPooh to North London!" he was coachishly humming.
"They're finding out now that no victory is coming!"
"They're packing their bags! I know just what they'll do!"
"Their mouths will hang open a minute or two,
Then the Nationals down in Carling will all cry BooHoo!"
"That's a noise," grinned the Coach, "That I simply MUST hear!"
So he paused. And the Coach put his hand to his ear.
And he did hear a sound rising through the rink. It started in low. Then it started to grow.
But the sound wasn't sad! Why, this sound sounded merry! It couldn't be so!
But it WAS merry! VERY! He stared at the wall! The Coach popped his eyes!
Then he shook! What he heard was a shocking surprise!
Every National down in Carling, the tall and the small,
Was cheering! Without any victory at all!
He HADN'T stopped North London from cheering! THEY CHEERED!
Somehow or other, they cheered - it was weird!
And the Coach, with his Worby-feet ice-cold in his shoes,
Stood puzzling, and puzzling, but what could he do?
"They cheered without asssists! They cheered without goals!"
"They cheered without statistics; they cheered with their souls!"
And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Coach thought of something he hadn't before!
"Maybe competition," he thought, "isn't all about the win."
"Maybe competition...perhaps...is about the joy from within!"
And what happened then? Well...in West London they say,
That Coach Worby's small beer grew three sizes that day!
And the minute his beer wasn't quite so small,
He smiled and he grinned at the wonder of it all
And at the next Hawks' practice, he allowed them to scrimmage
And he, HE HIMSELF, scored the game winner to finish.
Merry Christmas Hawks and Happy Holidays!
Go Hawks go!