Initial portents were not good on a lovely autumnal afternoon as the A Team ambled out onto the wide open spaces of the first team pitch for their traditional warm up of a bit of touch & pass followed by the forwards’ drop goal competition, only to be confronted by what looked like an Under 21 team practicing their flowing backs moves. After some confusion it was confirmed that they were unfortunately our opposition & it was indeed too late to move the game onto the back training field. That made for an easy team talk along the lines of (& I’ve “bleeped” the “bloodys” out) “Get hold of the ball & keep it! “
Right on point we stuck it up the jumper early doors for the Cristiano Ronaldo of the A Team, Joe Sheils, to get on the end of series of forward drives for the first score.
B’s swiftly leveled following possibly the most pathetic attempt at a tackle ever made on the field of dreams, by yours truly. My Great Aunt Elsie could have hit the lad harder & we buried her 10 years ago.
We then somehow managed to monopolise possession long enough for the B’s searingly fast backs to be only 4 tries to 2 up just after half time with – & here comes the understatement of the year –the elderly Huddersfield pack starting to tire. The rest of the (thankfully curtailed) game was played out almost exclusively in the B’s 22. Scrum after scrum, drive after drive, two disallowed tries & still two tries down. Grrrr !
But then, sports fans, a change of tactic – we gave it our backs; who had hitherto spent most of the match standing around with their hands down their shorts. So it was time for wakey wakey hands off snakey as the ball went down the line & we had a clear overlap – all it needed was a pass to Andre “I’ve never met a nice South African” Baillon & he was in. Time stood still. The one man’s dog stopped peeing. Mid pee. The cheerleaders grabbed their pom poms (fan me Margaret, fan me) & bugliner Sheilsy cast an envious glance. Duffy’s pass was millimetre perfect – Andre was focused on the line & already dreaming of running round to dab it down under the posts before nonchalantly back healing the conversion to the delight of the crowd (singular) – & yes, you’ve guessed it – he dropped the freekin thing. More accurately I think it went through a hole in his chest where his heart should be. To be fair, profuse apologies from the Saffer – so much so that Duffster has had to block him on his phone.
The drama continued as a minute later we repeated the same move & it’s on again – will the Duffmeister throw the same pass to Andre ? Well, a bit like Soya milk – you know it’s available but you’re never gonna use it – great dummy & over to score. Shortly after that we ping it right & Dan the Man is on it like a car bonnet to score in the corner & it’s all square !
Sadly one of their lads suffered a potentially nasty neck injury from the kick off so whilst waiting for the the nee naw we shook hands on a draw. Big phew!
Sometimes a draw feels a bit like kissing your mother in law but this felt a bit better. More like kissing your fit sister in law. And maybe diving in for a bit of a tonsil tickle as well.
Mahoosive big ups this week to the pack, especially the front row who somehow kept on top of their opposite numbers all game, despite being old enough to be their fathers – at least. And of course, our George at 8. Simply, simply outstanding. And plenty in the tank, sir. Self appointed tour Choirmaster, George is early to his work this season & has already sent me a number of new verses for “ The Captain of our Ship”. Some of the words were new to me & unfortunately nowhere to be seen in the Collins English Dictionary. Perhaps I need to be looking in Johns Books.
Last word this week to the watching injured Elliot Knight who said it was “not the worst game of rugby he has seen”. Mind you, he is recovering from concussion.
