Faded Glory Snaps The Streak

Chelsea, MA- The bitter taste of defeat is an acidic bile and frothy grit that sticks to the teeth and festers like an unwelcome growth. It is the taste of Anger. Of loss. And of broken promises, wasted opportunities and youth gone to pasture. It is not a drink consumed with either relish or celebration and to those who have been forced to suffer its affects it leaves a stain that can be cleansed by only one remedy. Victory.

The Southern New Hampshire Faded Glory finally found the elixir to a three year, 31 game losing streak late Thursday night as they visited the Metro Red Stale Donuts and survived a bruising, fist flying, shot hurling, electricfied contest to post a 6-3 victory over their league rivals. It marked the end of what had been a futile and often cursed history for one of the Olde New England Lacrosse League's most troubled franchises.

"That streak is OVER! 0-31? Call it 1-0 now!" an exuberant player/coach Dan Tamberello said as he marched off the field to cheers and bursting champagne corks "I don't even remember the losing streak now!'

Refreshing the coach's memory, a local member of the Boston press corps reminded Tamberello that the streak was epic in many ways and not only held the title of being the longest in this league's history but, at 31 games, was the longest such streak in not only this sport but in five others as well. In fact when the President's 'Beer Summit' was interrupted to bring him the stunning news, Mr. Obama coughed his Bud Light through his nose and choked out an astonished comment.

"Damn! Those boys just didn't want to quit!" the Commander in Chief said.

The game was an electric event from the opening whistle and from the attitude of the Faded Glory's pre game drills it was apparent that that the tide was about to turn. Forsaking their ritualistic pre game stretch and opting for a simple warm up through the line drills the Glory took the field with the presence that this game was to be fought from the other side of the bar where the gloves were removed and the cry of 'Uncle!' was to go unheeded.

Controlling the opening face off with a unique display of animalistic brutishness Tamborello bull dozed the Stale Donut and left the ball exposed for Tony Silvestro to swoop in and claim possession. After a fast lap around the offensive horn the ball found its way into the stick of attackman Kyle Hintlian who made a quick deposit into the opposing cage.

"Nice way to celebrate a birthday." Hintlian was quoted as he left the post game celebration.

Quickly pouncing on the opportunity the Glory took the face off and maneuvered the offensive set to produce what midfielder Joey Barbagallo called "a perfect storm of relentless pressure." Whirling through the crease with a recklessness not seen in a generation Barbagallo was instrumental in creating enough havoc to allow attackman Mike Kaskiewitz a small seem in the defensive alignment. He plucked a pass from the swift midfielder and rifled a bullet through the hole to punch the back of the net and send the home team crowd into a stunned silence.

The onslaught was not over however and the Glory continued to bully their way through the next several face offs to control the possession and pace of the game. Recent additions to the Faded Glory have allowed the team to utilize speed and size to its considerable advantage and although the Donuts were able to gain some moments of offense the tenacity of Eric Kaskiewitz ensured those moments were brief and uneventful. The younger Kaskiewitz performed multiple, text book removals of the ball from opponent's sticks. Timing the checks with precise fury he lulled the Donut attackman into vulnerable positions before releasing wicked assaults upon his victim. The exposed ball would then be corralled by the Glory, turned up field and more often than not left in the back of the cage.

Towards the end of the second quarter the Donuts made a small run taking advantage of a confusing series of whistles which left the Glory up in the 'Punches Thrown' department but down in the 'Number of Players on the Field' department. Attackman Josh Hoffman and his stout defender unwittingly revealed several areas of mutual disagreement and unable to find more diplomatic abilities to reason them out resorted to a small but violent scuffle to achieve resolution. The referees, having been distracted by activity elsewhere on the field were thus forced to make a verdict with less than all the facts. It was a fragile peace that would not hold.

Halftime saw the Glory up by a deuce and as the boys slapped each other on the back and the whispers of post game celebratory debauchery could be heard one veteran member of the streak reminded the troops that a two goal lead was by no means safe with this bunch.

"The foot is on the throat, now it's time to twist that foot so they won't even want to get up." Midfielder Jed Dunham said to the fringe of the huddle.

The Glory came out hard in the third but this was a quarter where both teams could only toe the line and neither was able to deliver the required knock out. Glory did the necessary things to keep the game controlled with a strong defensive effort by Chris Gould and Jim Taylor. Taylor at one point cracked a stick over the arm of a Donut, grabbed the loose ball and hurtled upfield with visions of heroics playing on his face. Defying a team order that clearly mandates all such long stick clears are to be finished with a shot on the cage Taylor passed the ball off to a waiting attackman who turned and whipped it passed a diving goalie for a back breaking goal.

As the third quarter came to a close Dunham once again caused the Glory bench to wonder as to the whereabouts of his head. A hard charge to the Glory cage was repelled by stellar goalie, Keith Piatt and the resulting loose ball was plucked from the crease area by Dunham. With only seconds remaining in the quarter and not wishing for an untimely turnover Dunham heaved the ball from goal line to goal line and directly into the opposing goalie's stick. An irate Barbagallo demanded to know the justification for such an undisciplined clear until the quarter's end was announced by the referee's whistle.

"Oh, right. The quarter's over. Got it. Nice play." Barbagallo said.

The fourth quarter has been a quarter of high consequence for the Faded Glory. It is here where leads were lost, comebacks thwarted and dreams denied. One can't lose thirty one games in a row without some heartbreak and a quick scan of the seasons' passed unearthed a tragic history of last second demises and fourth quarter collapses. But this is team of endurance. A team of ignorance in that those tendencies are quickly forgotten and buried deep in the subconscious. This fourth quarter began with a slim 5-3 lead. But this was a lead that was cemented in concrete and one that would not be relinquished with ease.

The Glory kept up its mastery of the face off and was able to wind seconds off the clock with its aerial display of passing proficiency. Rookie James Gilbert created enough of a disturbance in the crease to free up Dan 'The Croatian Sensation' Butkovich to wheel off multiple shots that either ended up in the cage or past the end line where a waiting attackman snared repeated possessions. Defensively the Glory was able to defy an increasingly desperate attempt by the donuts to close the gap. With their 5-1 record on the line the Donuts steadily became less disciplined and on one late game possession this glitch produced explosive results.

Hoffman had the ball behind the crease and he artfully dodged his way towards the cage in search of open passing lanes. What he found was a stiff resistance to his efforts and as the ball was pried from his stick a tumult of bodies collapsed around the goal. What looked to be a simple undignified end to a bold play quickly escalated into a cacophony of insults, F* Bombs and fisticuffs. Struggling to his knees to deliver an uninvited slurry of thrown hands Hoffman was in no mood for apologies or explanations. He was only subdued after two large bodies intervened between him and his defensive nemisis to quell the disturbance but while involved in the peace making efforts attackman Kyle Hintlian was beefcaked from the back by a low flying forearm which only succeeded in igniting the aggressions further. It took some time before the referees were able to sort the mess out and by the time they did Hoffman was resting comfortably in his end of the penalty box.

The game's conclusion was not long after and the Glory held the lead for he final minutes even dropping a final goal into the net to close the contest as a 6-3 victory for the team's first win. The win solidified a team that had been tested to the limits of mental endurance and despite the unfamiliarity with the winner's podium the Glory quickly made themselves right at home as Mike Kaskiewitz removed a dented, faded and long past its prime can of America's truth serum, Pabst Blue Ribbon, which he shook and then exploded upon the tight circle of patient victors. As Kaskiewitz licked the froth from his sweat soaked chin one of the young admirers viewing the scene from the stands asked the attackman how it tasted.

"Tastes like *#$%!" Kaskiewitz answered as he frantically looked for something to wipe the ancient fermentation from his skin "Somebody get me a fresh one!"

As he slugged the more recently produced beverage the memory of that stale stenched liquid was replaced by the sweet taste of icy victory. Send in the Fat Lady, boys and plug in her microphone, the Southern New Hampshire Faded Glory finally won a game.