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The Fundies: The Essential Hockey Guide from On the Bench

The Fundies: The Essential Hockey Guide from On the Bench

by Olly Postanin, Jacob Ardown

Paperback

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Available for Pre-Order. This item will be available on October 22, 2019

Overview

The funniest duo since Bob and Doug McKenzie
 
The hockey world has exploded with On the Bench—the one-stop shop for all the hockey fundamentals (the fundies).
 
As elite, old-school players, Olly and Jacob embody how the game should be played. How good are they? Their early YouTube videos were so successful that top NHL pros were calling them to learn the fundies: Connor McDavid, Drew Doughty, Dylan Larkin, and dozens more have all received tips and tricks to improve their game. And some of those guys aren’t half bad.
 
With their deep understanding of what makes hockey the best game in the world, and their own special hockey-talk, there is no other book like The Fundies. This guide to dominating the sport covers everything: history, skills development, training and choosing equipment, coaching, and all the ways to get respect on and off the ice.
 
Have you ever watched the game at home and yelled at the TV because the refs missed an obvious slash? Well, so have Olly and Jacob, except they actually know what they’re talking about. With The Fundies, so can you. No one wants to read a lot of words, so they’ve added photos to help grease you through the harder stuff, like taking a perfect shot. And if you still don’t believe them, there are quotes from across the NHL about how “helpful” Olly and Jacob are.  
 
From blocking biscuits and tickling twine, to the perfect post-goal celly to impress the scouties, The Fundies has got you covered in style.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780735236981
Publisher: Penguin Canada
Publication date: 10/22/2019
Pages: 256
Sales rank: 144,021
Product dimensions: 5.50(w) x 8.25(h) x 0.62(d)

About the Author

OLLY POSTANIN and JACOB ARDOWN are the deadliest players to ever tickle twine. After years of dominating the Bangladesh Pro League and the Virgin Islands Elite League (respectively), they returned to Canada to share their unparalleled knowledge and skills in the hope that one day there would be enough competition for them to really light it up. They are currently holding out for the greasiest conny (contract) to ever be signed.

Read an Excerpt

Introduction


Hey boys, welcome to the first-ever written eppie. If you’re reading this book, you probably already know Olly and Jacob, but in case you missed a few details about our greasy hockey careers and how we started, let’s get you up to speed.

First, what are the fundies? Plain and simple, fundies are the fundamentals. The basics of everything and anything hockey. You didn’t even know you needed the fundies until we broke the Internet and introduced them to you. With the game getting softer every year, our presence is needed more than anyone knows. If you want to be the best, you need to always move forward. We aren’t just reckless with our bodies—we feel no pain because there isn’t any room for pain in the fundies. That is why we are here: to teach you how hockey is supposed to be played.

A lot of people like to ask, “Why aren’t you in the league if you’re so good?” And we like to respond with something like, “Are you going to ask stupid questions all day?” It’s easy to see that we are far better than any player to enter the game. Each generation has a player that is unquestionably talented, such as Al MacInnis, the great lip sweater that is Lanny McDonald, and today’s stars like Brock Boeser and Connor McDavid. They still don’t have anything on us, though. Don’t believe us? Why are they all asking to be in an eppie and learn the fundies from us? Without a doubt, our advice and training could bring players like Lanny out of retirement and make him even more successful than he was before. (Still waiting for that call, Lanny.) 

We don’t play in the show because it isn’t at the level it needs to be for us to have any sort of challenge. That is why we are training the entire NHL, one eppie at a time—to create some competition that would make it worth our while to play. So, yeah, we are the best, and you need the fundies!

1. Who We Are

Olly Postanin

Olly Postanin is the name, boys. I started my life in Newmarket, Ontario. I guess you can say that is where a legend was made. My journey began like any other kid growing up in Canada—rippin’ rope at a young age. My formative years were spent playing hockey in Elliot Lake, learning to wheel on the mini skating rink my dad built on the deck in our backyard.

I spent countless hours perfecting my craft—shooting, skating, fighting, and . . . sitting on the bench. That’s right, boys, my dad benched me. A lot. I’m still not sure why. Maybe it was because I was dummying my older brother all day on the rink while he pretended he was Wayne Gretzky. Naturally, I took liberties on him with a lot of slashies, a few hits from behind, you know—normal brother stuff.

It was also during this time that I scooped my first pair of cowboy boots. A lot of people ask me why I wear the boots, and it’s pretty simple: they are the best footwear for running because they are so aerodynamic. They’re built for speed, which makes me pretty much unstoppable.

When it was time to start playing organized hockey at the age of four, I was already an absolute weapon. Not only was I the only player in Timbits Hockey that could raise the puck and go top corns on the tendy (making him look like a complete pylon), I was also the only four-year-old kid to get spenny’d for fighting. You may be thinking, “Who fights in Timbits Hockey?” Well, the kid I dropped the mitts with was chirping me for wearing a Jofa bucket. He taunted me with “That’s a dad helmet,” so naturally I did what any beauty would do —I dropped my finger pillows and tossed a few hammers at his dome. I lost that fight but learned an important lesson: hitting the scoresheet was the most important part in hockey—besides the flow, obviously.

Because of my prowess on the ice, I was scouted at an early age for the Bangladesh Pro League. It was a hard decision to make: stay and play minor-league hockey or crush it overseas. So, like any smart ten-year-old would do, I packed my duffle and all my mini sticks and hit the road (and the sea—Bangladesh is a trek).

After seven seasons playing pro in Bangladesh, I proudly led the league in PIMs and least amount of ice time played. You’re probably wondering how I lasted so long and accomplished so much in the league. Keep reading and you’ll learn some important secrets that led to my record-setting career.

Jacob Ardown

I have played puck for as long as I can remember, setting unbreakable records, easily marking me a legend. On top of that, I am also likely the humblest player in the game. Even if it seems like I’m cocky, I’m not. I just know how great I am. There’s a big difference. I have been called the purest of beauties. It should be easy to see why, but if you weren’t able to pick it up, I’ll break it down for you.

First thing to point out is the style, boys. Rockin’ the deadly lettuce on my dome, blazin’ in the wind while I burn hoof. And, of course, the nasty beard. Facial hair is super crucial to your game-play, boys; that’s why I chose to go with the “handle chops.” My favourite colour is plaid, so naturally it’s the only vest I wear. And the Velcro wheels are built for speed.

As for the game-play, boys, I’m not sure where to start. I made it to the Virgin Islands Elite Hockey League because I’m such a well-rounded player. I tore up the league with the Virgin Islands Coconut Cutters for seven years. I was initially brought in because of my greasy snapper, but the league had no idea what they were getting when I signed my big conny.

Early in my career with the Coconut Cutters, I set a record that still has not been beat and likely never will be: most stick infractions in one period, boys. I set it high, racking up 13 infractions in the first period before the coach kicked me out of the game. I hadn’t been scoring much at the time, trying to get into the routine of my new team. So, like any natural athlete, I found a way to flood the scoresheet.

Some people have called me a “goal-scorer’s goal-scorer,” and some have said I’m more of a “family man defenceman” just doing what it takes for the team. I see myself more as a natural goal-scoring, stay-at-home defenceman, offensive-threatening enforcer. So, basically, the most well-rounded player out there, to put it into layman’s terms.

It was during the Bangladesh Pro and Virgin Islands Elite Annual Cross-League Match-Up where Olly and I first met. With a fresh sheet between us, the stare-down began, bench to bench. When we finally hit the ice on the same shift, we knew some kind of magic was about to happen. It was showtime for the two best players on the ice, and the score needed to be settled immediately. Olly could see I was a killer D-man, and when he flicked the biscuit into the corner and charged full speed expecting to nail me, I dropped a low hippie, sending him head-over-wheels into the glass. The crowd erupted—and not even ten seconds into the shift, the finger pillows were off.

Both of us knew we could each have had at least six points that night, and everyone in the stands believed it, too. But scrapping was the only way to settle this score. We went toe-to-toe, exchanging shots to the booger bag. Fists were flying, buckets popped off, and the crowd went crazy. After no less than 72 punches each, the zebras finally broke it up. The first go-around ended in a tie, so we knew we had unfinished business. After serving our time in the sin bin, we got on the ice for round two. The result was about the same as round one, though. At the end of the game, after 14 fights and 14 ties, we discovered we’d each met our match, and there was mutual respect between a couple of legends. Some people say those 14 fights and 212 punches will go down in history as racking up the longest scoresheet ever recorded.

Now that you know a little bit more about me and Olly, and understand why you should be taking our advice, let’s spread some mayonnaise on a few fundies. Buckle up, boys: the pages are about to get greased.