Sabtu, 12 Februari 2011

Silver Fox: Win A Date With An Oldster Holiday Edition #5

From the Mind of Mouthguard comes this Silver Fox Date. It's going to be a wild ride, we can promise that.




Do you believe in love at first sight? Are you an utterly foolish slave for a hockey crush that will absolutely never lead to anything? And you could care less, because in your demented surreality where your heart of heart thumps, fantasy is fun, funny and kinky? Did I even have to ask?


Robert Gordon ("Bobby") Orr


Okay people. I am neither going to mince words here, nor am I going to play games. This entire exercise is a shameless, poorly disguised excuse for a Bobby Orr pic spam. I admit it. Not gonna lie. Here he is shirtless in the Bruins dressing room:

C'mon! This is Valentine's Day: a/k/a The Most Blatantly Made Up "Hallmark Holiday" There Is. So we can play along and pretend like our surreal dating scenario is actually happening in real time. We can make like our stale, pharmacy-bought truffles are doing it for us, when all we really want to do is help Senor Orr tape his stick:

Or sharpen his skates:

Or pump iron:

Or spray paint his fur coat, even though we hate ourselves for admitting how awesome he looks in a pelt:

We can lose ourselves in whimsical fantasy and be grateful that we didn't spend $12.99 at Walgreens for the Russell Stover Assorted Chocolates Jeans Heart. Wouldn't you rather gaze upon delicious photos of Bobby instead of wondering who thought it would be a good idea to wrap a box of chocolates in acid-washed "Mom Jeans" denim? Of course you would!

Doesn't he look like Eddie Vedder here?


Officially: Hockey agent extraordinaire. Badass coach of "Team Orr" in the annual Top Prospects Game. Champion charity fundraiser. Oh yeah: And The Greatest Hockey Player In The History Of The Game. Lest we forget.

Unofficially: The Greatest Hockey Player In The History Of The Game.

Certainly The Greatest D-Man Ever. The Hottest Man Alive.


Officially: Stanley Cup champion. Canada Cup champion. Olympic flagbearer. Hockey Hall of Famer. Order of Canada Officer. The Only Reason Anybody Gives A Shit About The Boston Bruins (Don Cherry Agrees). Looked especially yummy wearing A maple leaf or modeling Blackhawks red.

Unofficially: The Greatest Hockey Player In The History Of The Game. Certainly The Greatest D-Man Ever. The Hottest Man Alive.


Funny you should wonder, because Bobby Orr is

The Greatest Hockey Player In The History Of The Game. Certainly The Greatest D-Man Ever. The Hottest Man Alive.

Please. Bobby has won and rightfully earned every award a hockey player dreams of being nominated for, let alone winning.

His seasonal records and accomplishments still command the highest respect among today's players, and even the biggest dicks in the league will freely admit that his presence in a room instantly transforms them into googly fanboys. Speaking of dicks, here's Bobby in a weird shot with two dick hall of famers, Espo and that other Bobby (Clarke). Would you just look at the size of those bowties. And get a load of Bobby C's tinted glasses. He's confused. He thinks he's Bert Convy:

Defensemen hold him in particularly high regard because he literally redefined their position and repainted the blue line. He proved that D-men could be lightning fast, agile and graceful point getters. The boggling stats/numbers are readily Googlable but sometimes people forget about the compelling traits that set Bobby and his hockey apart from his peers in the first place: His patience. His intuition. His determination. His troubleshooting. His niceness. His toughness. His hotness. His heart, which you will see for yourself in a few paragraphs.

Notwithstanding his youth and fitness, Bobby endured significant to excruciating knee pain for his entire career. Extraordinary willpower and grit propelled him through season after season. Many of his teammates only learned how bad it really was after Bobby retired because he was so adept at not being a bummer. He also knew how to rock crutches and a neckbrace like a superstar. Being injured is never cool, but Bobby managed to make it look that way:

He kinda looks like he might be hiding a neckbrace here, but really it's just a turtleneck to hide his wobbly. A Wobbly Befitting The Hottest Man Alive:


Excuse me? He NEVER STOPPED being sexy. Can you think of another player in the NHL who random artists have deemed naked portrait worthy?

Oh, and for clarification purposes, Alex Ovechkin's nude "self portrait" he "painted" on an inebriated dare doesn't count:

Today, Bobby divides his time between raising awareness and funds for a host of charitable and non-profit organizations and furthering the interests of professional and amateur players through his agency and as an NHLPA consultant. He gets to co-host and coach in the annual Top Prospects game, and tells Don Cherry to stick a sock in it:

Babble all you like about the Great One and Super Mario. Nobody's likely to interrupt you. But Bobby Orr was and always will be Special: A perfect synthesis of heart and facility. Hence, The Greatest Hockey Player In The History Of The Game.

Certainly The Greatest D-Man Ever. The Hottest Man Alive.


Funny you should wonder, because Bobby has spent a lot of time planning his perfect date with me tonight. In fact, here he is trying to figure out how he's going to entertain me this evening:

Oh and before I forget: You guys aren't invited to our date, but you're invited to watch. On this particular occasion, there will be no sharing. Unless we're talking an old-fashioned 3-way with Andre the Giant and Carol Vadnais:

I'm down with midgets and key parties, but I draw the line at 7+ foot wrestlers with bad perms. Still, I give him points for being a swinger, which suggests he's not averse to role-playing. With puppets. Which is a turn-on. Don't believe me? Here he is with Ernie, Bert & Cookie Monster and some strippers on skates:

I'm telling you, he's way kinky.

The doorbell rings, and There He Stands. On Crutches. In The Same Sassy Crushed Velvet Prom Suit & Bowtie That Bobby Clarke Wore At That Awards Ceremony A Few Paragraphs Ago. No perm, though.

Bobby shakes my hand and his crutches lead the way to a waiting limo: "I can't drive right now," he jokes, "and this is probably safer anyway." All I can think about is how hot he is on crutches, and I start to fantasize about what he looks like when he's wasted.

We pull away and I am astounded by what a Chatty Cathy he is. Bobby is talking my ear off, asking me to "... feel free to tell me to shut up if I start talking too much because I tend to talk way too much on first dates - mostly 'cause I'm nervous!"

He also reveals that he is hopelessly - terribly - accident prone. He pulls out his iPhone and plays the commercial that chronicles why he's on crutches. "I had a blast shooting this but I ended up spraining my funny bone and crushing my baby toe on my left foot!" He's cracking up. "It's not funny, but all I can do is laugh at this point because it's like I've broken, crushed or sprained every bone or body part I've got at least once. Like Evel Knievel!" )
We're giggling like little girls until I look out the window and see this. WTF??? As John McEnroe used to exclaim, "You CANNOT be serious!!!"

Bobby can tell our date is on its way down the flusher. "MouthGuard, I have a very special feeling about you," he puts his hand on my knee and gazes deeply into my pug-like eyeballs. "I wouldn't blame you for hating me forever for taking you to Cherry's Sports Grill on our first date, but you have to understand that this is Cherry's in Parry Sound - my hometown - and Grapes personally assured me that we would have the most amazing Valentine's date ever. He also owes me 'cause my team beat him at the Prospects game."

Sigh. "How Can I Refuse" Bobby?

The limo door is yanked open. Yep...

"PUT ER DERE, BUDDY! HA HA HAAAAAAA!!!" Don shoves his meaty hand past my face and grabs Bobby, who is trying to get out of the car with his crutches. "Hey lemme help you wit yer braces, eh?" Don and a cameraman bend over me into the backseat and yank Bobby's crutches away from him, tossing each one out onto the front lawn of his establishment. Ducking out of the limo, I watch in astonishment as Don picks Bobby up out of the car and carries him into Cherry's like a blushing bride.

Once inside, everybody's cheering wildly as we are invited to play pinball and are presented with heart-shaped bowls of Jelly Belly Conversation Beans.

Things don't seem quite so bad until I notice that for some strange reason the jelly beans only come in sour grape and sour cherry and are in fact Jelly Belly "Flops". The beans are misshapen and deformed, and they seem to bear special Bobby-themed messages on them although upon closer inspection the messages are 100% Cherry-centric:

Don announces over the PA that the sour cherry "TITS" beans are going fast, so "GET 'EM WHILE THEY'RE HOT & FRESH!!!" I wince and everybody whoops. Bobby is holding my hand, and whispers that he has a very special secret he would like to share with me. We retreat to the booth next to Blue's mural, and he excitedly shows me his iconic "flying" photo. "Remember this?" he asks. How could I forget. "It's the most famous hockey photo of all time," I reply.

"Not so fast!" He cracks up laughing, and then hands me another image to compare it to. "Look, it's me! I'm a jelly belly flop!"

OMG. But for the goggles and bathing cap, the bean's resemblance to Bobby is uncanny. I can't believe my eyes. "How was this detail missed for all these years? This photo has been reproduced and publicly displayed for decades."

"Because love is blind, MouthGuard."

Euphoric, every morsel of me feels like a large tub of buttercream frosting when an obnoxious patron accidentally pelts Bobby in the head with a Bruins-themed specialty cupcake:

Wow, he wasn't kidding when he said he was accident prone. But who throws a cupcake, honestly?

There's no point in describing what happened next, except that I had the backseat in the limo all to myself because Bobby ended up looking like this:

Sigh. And so it goes. Here's to heart, soul and beans, my funny valentine.


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