Schu Strings: The Insult King

Listen up Hockey Pucks. Insult legend Don Rickles has been named honorary captain of this year's Arizona Icecats team. Nope, that's not a joke, Don Rickles is actually the Icecats' honorary captain.

In the realm of UA athletics, the Arizona Icecats often consider themselves the insulted outcasts. Striving for survival for over two decades, there was a time when the Icecats were Tucson's adopted step-children, a group of hockey players provided scholarships, without the support of University funding, who managed to draw anywhere from 4,000 to 7,000 fans a game at the Tucson Convention Center.

Sadly, those days are gone. The Icecats haven't attracted those kinds of crowds since the mid-90s, and one wonders just how much longer the program, guided by one of the city's more colorful personalities, coach and general manager Leo Golembiewski, can stay afloat.

Honorary captains are nothing new for the Icecats. The likes of Scotty Bowman, Sergeant Slaughter and Oliver North have adorned that nomenclature in the past. But with the addition of Rickles, one can only guess how much that would add insult, to well, insult.

Now I haven't talked with the king of cutdowns, so I can only imagine what Rickles could possibly say about these guys.


Don Rickles at the Sahara

The Icecats are coached and managed by Leo Golembiewski.

Rickles: Is that a last name or a triple word score?

They play in the American Collegiate Hockey Association, also known as the ACHA.

Rickles: ACHA sounds like the stuff I spit up when I have the flu.

This year's catch phrase is "Leaving it on the Ice."

Rickles: I saw the way they played against ASU. They certainly left something out there, and I can still smell it.

You saw the ASU game over the weekend? You must have had space to stretch out.

Rickles: I've seen more people at one time in the men's room at Caesar's Palace, and the seats were more comfortable.

Their schedule includes the likes of Weber State, Utah State, Colorado State, Robert Morris and Division III Northland.

Rickles: Robert Morris opened for me in Reno. I hope he's a better hockey player.

The Icecats routinely score many times each game.

Rickles: Do they think they're Rat Packers at the Mustang Ranch?

That means the opposing goalie must endure unpleasant ridicule.

Rickles: He Shoots, He Scores! Hey Goalie, You Suck! That was too easy. Does everybody think they can get in on this insult game?

The puck drops Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30.

Rickles: I've been dropping hockey pucks for 40 years.


Last week I mentioned that In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida was musically stuck in my head. I hate it when stuff like this happens. There are always songs that get me, too. The worst, by far, is Jesus Christ Superstar. Say the title, and I'm a done deal.

"Jesus Christ, Superstar. Who in the heck do you think you are?"

Yeah, so I don't get the lyrics right. But to make matters worse, it's not like I rehash the entire song. Oh no, just one line. Over and over and over.

"Jesus Christ, Superstar. Who in the heck do you think you are?"

"Jesus Christ, Superstar. Who in the heck…"

It's enough to drive a grown man crazy, which would explain even more if I'd actually bother to grow up.

Someone once told me you need an "out" song. Like "Don't Stop Believing," by Journey or something. That way you'll always have an escape, which just happens to be the album on which "Don't Stop Believing" appears. That person was full of crap. All it does is temporarily change the loop running in your head. And who really wants to hear that tedious Jonathan Cain keyboard over and over and over?

Give me drugged-out Broadway, baby.

Or prog rock. Prior to the Jesus Christ, Superstar debacle, I was stuck with a song from an obscure (wait, I'm referencing a progressive rock band…how much more redundant can that be) German progressive rock band called Eloy. I have no reason to believe Eloy was named after the community located between Phoenix and Tucson. I suspect the German prog band Eloy is called Eloy because of the H. G. Wells novel. Prog bands like to do that sort of thing.

Anyway, some Eloy 17-minute masterpiece was stuck in my head for weeks. Of course, not all 17 minutes. That would have been bearable. Instead, just one sequence, probably the sequence with the cool mellotron. So it only occupied 14 or 15 minutes.

And before Eloy, it was a sequence of a song from a band called Pendragon. Nobody in the band is actually named Pendragon. I assume they picked that name because of its connection to the King Arthur legend. Prog bands like to do that sort of thing.

So this is the torture I endure, each and every moment of each and every day. Always a sequence of a song looping around my noggin like the old train at the Burger King where I spent my misplaced childhood, which just so happens to be a masterwork from a band I like named Marillion. Marillion is named Marillion because of the J. R. R. Tolkein novel Silmarillion. Prog bands like to do that sort of thing.

"This is the Life of Johnny Schu. Thank the stars above that it is not You."

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