Chuck Woolery

Sigh. I've returned from a meeting of my hockey organization's board of directors, and I am less than happy, so here I come to the board to pour out my soul. First, some backstory. I've been playing hockey since I was... five, I think, so nine years. I lived in Peoria until about second grade, and from there my family moved up here to beautiful New Hampshire. We searched around for a hockey team in our area (Littleton), and lo, discovered Littleton Youth Hockey. I played there for my initiation years (atoms in Canada, I think), but when I was to move up to mite (which is like nine-and-under), the heads of the league didn't feel that we were talented enough to have a team. Seeing as Littleton's home rink was in Lyndonville, VT, and they had their own hockey program, I played my mite years with them. However, when I was to move up to squirts (eleven-and-under, and yes, hockey levels are horribly named) I was beginning to get sick of the game. I decided that I was quitting, and skipped the sign-ups for Lyndon youth hockey. A couple weeks later, I was eating lunch with a friend of mine (who we'll call Will), who was a pretty big hockey player himself. Will played for Littleton's squirts as well, and they weren't going to have a team either. He pleaded with me to play, and the thought of playing with somebody I knew (gasp!) made me decide to come back to Littleton. We lost all of our games that year. Three of the kids on our team had never skated before, which made me look like Bobby Orr by comparison. The next year was expected to be much of the same, but I had built up a sense of loyalty to Littleton at this point, and stuck with it. We almost all of our games that year. Finally, on the last day of the season we pulled out a miracle, which was like helium in our lead-filled souls. This convinced me to stick around for the next year, my first year as a peewee. We lost all of our games that year, too. By this point I was legitimately playing for love of the game, as nothing else would have gotten me through three seasons with one win. So I stuck around for another year. My second year as a peewee I was introduced to Adam and his father, Steven. Steven was a bipolar manic depressive who happened to know the game of hockey inside and out and had the ability to motivate a group of moderately talented middle schoolers like no other. Adam, meanwhile, was like God on skates, a wonder with the puck... and I, as defenceman, simply served as the enforcer. But I was okay with that, as behind Steven's leadership we won the state championship. This was, like, huge ego boost. We were all psyched for the next season, my first as a bantam, and were anticipating another championship. However, Steven was not to be the coach of our team -- he was to coach the peewees, who were the more gifted of the two. Whatever, right? Well, that year's peewee team had a female goaltender with a feminist mother. When Steven made an off-the-cuff comment about this girl playing like a girl, the mother got upset and insisted for Steven's removal. His mood swings were well-documented, and he was on the bad side of most of the parents for being too overbearing, despite the kids loving to play for him. At risk of ruining Adam's hockey, Steven stepped down as coach of the peewees. Meanwhile, the bantams (my team) started out on a fucking roll, winning something like eighteen of our first twenty games. However, our coach, Brian, didn't work us near as hard as Steven did, and eventually Steven's work ethic was replaced by Brian's. We went into a huge slump, and finished fourth of five in our division. The next year was this one. This year was to be my second year as a bantam, and the year I seriously quit hockey. I planned on refereeing and coaching the mite team next year (at sixteen), and going out on top this year. Steven was supposed to be our coach, Adam was going to be back, and our core group of talent would all be second-year bantams. And then it all went to hell. As I stated before, Steven had (well, has) serious mental issues. He was a frequent attendee at Littleton's board meetings, despite most of the board disliking him immensely. At a recent meeting, Steven put his name into the hat for bantam coach... and was promptly shot down by Larry Barker and Jeff Tirey. (I give out their real names because if any of you wish to inflict bodily harm, go ahead -- Tom or someone can edit that out if they don't like it.) Some backstory on Larry and Jeff and why I dislike them. I have two brothers, aged nine and seven, who are both more talented than I ever was at that age. Last year would be their only year to play hockey on the same team, and they were looking forward to doing it for Littleton. However, Larry (who was the coach of the mites) said that the eleven mites they had "weren't good enough", singling out my seven year old brother as an example. Jeff, whose son Tucker was mite age, agreed wholly -- if there was no mite team Tucker could move up to squirts, where he could ride the coattails of Landon Morneau, Boy Wonder to the state championship. And the fucking board agreed with them. This caused my parents to find a way for my brothers to play hockey together... and they went to Lyndonville. Irony, huh? I, however, being a fool or somesuch, stated my pride in Littleton Youth Hockey, and stuck around here. Back to the story. Steven was incredibly upset about not being able to coach Adam, and let it be known. His bipolar tendencies took over again, as he let loose a stream of curse words and left in a huff, saying "Fuck Littleton, I'll go to Berlin" on his way out. Now, I didn't believe him -- he had gotten this upset before and never left. However, this time he was serious. Adam is signed up for Berlin youth hockey as we speak, leaving me in danger of not having a team. There's fifteen peewees and eight bantams, which means in theory two or three of the peewees could be moved up, but Jeff (who is the coach) refuses to do so, as it would "destroy the core elements of [his] team". This coming from a guy who couldn't skate until last year. (To picture Jeff, imagine a balding brown-haired man of fifty who wishes he was Tony Montana.) Now, I'm between a rock and a hard place. I could stick with Littleton, swallow my pride and play for a bunch of assholes who have driven all the talent from Littleton Youth Hockey with their insistence that "this player isn't ready" and "that player isn't ready." A second option is going to Lyndonville, where there's a team of seventeen bantams who coul use one more. I wouldn't get much playing time, but there wouldn't be the possibility of getting no playing time. The final option is quitting organized hockey altogether and becoming a mens' league player, going to the rink Friday nights and playing pickup. I don't know if any of you will understand what I'm going through over this. Hockey has been a huge part of my life since I was little, and I've never had this much shit to deal with in relation to it. It's frustrating as hell for me, and I've felt the need to vent for a while... so I guess you guys are subject to it. Sorry. But thanks for reading all the way down here, if you did. I appreciate it greatly. - CW.

Bodybag Match English Dragon v. Crow -> I want to see English Dragon get into a groove, but I think Crow is pissed (and rightfully so, he lost to two fucking OAOASTers ). So, I go with Crow here. ? Match Wildchild v. ? -> Wildchild slips to 0-4 against ?. Non-title Tag Match The Bemani Cross Wizards (Thoth and Ced Ordonez) v. Sin-Quizition (Quiz and John Duran) -> All you motherfuckers are going to pay for going against Sinquizition. Singles Match Erek Taylor v. Xstasy -> Difficult match to call, but I'll go with Xstasy. Hardcore Match Bastion v. Va'aiga -> Ooh, battle of the one-word-named wonders. Va'aiga's is cooler, so him. ICTV Singles Match "The Franchise" Mak Francis v. "The Sacred One" Andrew Blackwell -> Muzz, I s'pose. Elimination Triple Threat for the #1 Contendership to the World Title! Dace Night v. Michael Craven v. Nathaniel Kibagami -> Ugh... Craven. Kibs, prove me wrong. Night, prove me wrong. But I must go with Craven. World Title Singles Match The Boston Strangler v. "The Superior One" Tom Flesher -> If Tom doesn't win I will cry.

CLEVELAND: 6 Minnesota Vikings Buffalo Bills Carolina Panthers Oakland Raiders Arizona Cardinals Seattle Seahawks Kansas City Chiefs Tennessee Titans Miami Dolphins San Diego Chargers Philadelphia Eagles Detroit Lions Pittsburgh Steelers Indianapolis Colts

I am up for Mad Matt's open challenge... but I doubt he will be. So I'm open to anybody and everybody.

Since I'm helping out with this weeks show, can you write a promo discussing "the Intense 5" concept? Sure thing, bossman.

Yes I do, and he is absolutely right. To reiterate for the vision impaired: Zack > Calvin.

Zack > Me. And IZ winning was most definitively a fluke, a fluke that will NEVER happen again to the House that Cal Built. I give this show an eight.

I'd be more than willing to defend the title on IZ if anybody's interested.

OMG CHAVE ADMITTED TO FLAMING. BAN PLZ.

Zack, I believe CC is writing that segment... if she can't I'll try to throw something together.

I'm the guy who wishes he was The Upright Man.

Yes, and as CWM's best friend I can say whatever I want. Nyeh.

::kicks Zack in the face:: Silent, n00b.

If that was a sarcastic post it was a damn articulate one.

I'd really like to avoid this, but I find your third point hilarious, as you say that OAOAST "veterans" are too afraid and/or selfish to let new people have any heat, yet you're obviously a returning veteran yourself and you went behind the champ (who himself is far from an OAOAST veteran) to steal some heat for yourself.

::no-sells everything on the count of the Shadow being a shitty wrestler who had to resort to destroying the World champ without permission to get any semblance of heat, and still has little to none despite twenty+ posts a day on the OAOAST boards.::

Uh.. your tiebreaker math on the Bears/Packers game looks a bit off. Other than that, nicely done. Thanks for doing this, man, I don't know how I'd put up with it.

Read the American Gladiators match. You have no idea how much stress went into that, and that was just a midcard match. The entire show is fucking amazing, seriously, and it's a must-read (in my mind) for anyone interested in a match-writing fed.

Las Vegas Outlaws, unless my knowledge of XFL trivia is letting me down.

I got called a bitch. But I won, and that's all that matters.

Apparently we broke 10k. This is a milestone in my career. I hope to God I win.

8875 and racing like a speed demon on crack because I will fucking break 10k.

...good God, I do? That's luck, right there.

"Love Me", Eminem, Obie Trice and 50 Cent. Just switched off to "High All The Time", 50 Cent. I listen to way too much 50 Cent, goddammit.

My word count is "Fuck Dante Crane and Crow For Ruining What Plans I May Have Had Today". Or, 3991. Cry.