so we did it. we flung ourselves, some of us more than others, and none of us in any particular direction. there were stops aplenty along the path to our self-deprecating destruction... the fantasy land known to some as the oasis, the quadrangle, the deck, margaritaville, of course the b-lud, the floor. we met some interesting characters along the way as well - from afroman to luda to the better p-tulli. but after all was said and done, i could not have asked for a more perfect ending then the beautiful display of athletic ability i witnessed at 2pm this very afternoon... the broad street bullies are back. led by the fearless fisherman mr. mike richards and the iron wall netminder marty biron, the flyers put an old-fashioned philly-style beat down on the ruski-loving traitors from our nation's capital. i have not been this pumped up to watch grown men beat each other senseless in freezing conditions since our last bout of rumble in the bronx some 4 years ago. this team reminds me of a simpler time when a legion of doom was not a crappy metal band from jersey but three hard-as-nails men who could wield their sticks and throw their weight around (no homo). i put down the many cups of beer i drank this weekend in hot pursuit of another much shinier drinking implement. i look forward to another inspiring demonstration on tuesday night, skating under the south philadelphia sky.
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