Sat 29 Feb 2020
Pre-Match
——————
Crazy week again.
Lots of uncertainly for the players now, there seems to be a regular storm every week, and this Corona virus must be playing on the player’s minds, with many making themselves unavailable.
The 2s were fortunate that the 3s game had been called off, and had 5 stalwarts at their disposal.
The Sinking Leadership
——----------—————-
Lipstick Captain Jack, as usual, had been summonsed to the 1s, whose Sunday selected “Dream Team” unfortunately failed to materialise on Friday.
Reality Captain Lanky was noticeably absent as well.
One feels he’d’ve excitedly pencilled in these dates against the bottom club, but it seems the in-laws had different thoughts 50 years ago when tying the knot.
So Lanky is stuck in Essex, wearing fur and little else, moaning about other people’s boringness.
Brian Gardiner was assigned the Temp Captain’s duties but had to withdraw during the week after a freak accident at work. It would have been considered a normal accident, had anyone but Brian been involved.
So, on the day, up stepped Temp Captain 2, Pete Johnson.
Pete did his best in the pre-game huddle, excitedly machine gunning all the standard stuff about giving your best and none of us knowing each other.
One major snippet heard more than once in his rapid fire, was to not make the game just about him.
We walked away from the huddle somewhat hypnotised into making this about Pete.
The Warm Up
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In the 30 minutes of bright sunshine, horizontal hail and gusting winds, the team introduced itself.
It’d been 8 years since the Hartlepool monkey hanger Scott Buttery had graced the Sefton pitches.
Some of us veterans recalled a plumpish slow moving mass from the old days, that never could make it above the 2s, and who’s only contribution was recognised with the Man of Glass Award.
Today Scott was back, on a stag weekend.
Things had changed for him though, he’d managed to go bald, go blind, get slower, and forget the basics of rugby.
“Yeah, but at least I’ve lost my puppy fat now”, he said.
(What does puppy fat turn into when it grows up, we ponder, as we watched Scott waddling around. Old dog fat?).
Fortunately Scott also brought 2 other uncomprehendable North Easterners that could actually play rugby.
Then there was new boy Max, from the local college.
Keen as mustard, hands like Muirhead. Has some promise about him though.
In all this mix of strangers, Matt Bland was in his element.
Blandie will thrive amongst those who don’t know him, slipping straight into Warren Gatland mode before he gets found out.
He quickly has his back line in order, relentlessly going through the 3 back’s moves that must now be firmly ingrained on his Year 1 blackboard at school (“block”, “dummy scissors” and “dummy scissors pop”).
In all the comical attempts the backs made, they clearly learnt one thing: Do Not Attempt This During The Game.
Fortunately, the forwards go through the very basics, trying to get a line out working in the gale.
The Match
—————
Basically, it was a throwback to my Under 8s days, when the team’s sole strategy was to give the ball to our biggest ginger player, and let him run riot.
The Spartan’s ginger guy was pretty robust, but hobbled off, suffering with “jug avoidance” after 2 good individual tries.
Sefton were lucky to have a number of ginger runners.
The 3s Prop, Rob Morton putting in a good 80 minutes, the Hartlepool centre did well (although he’d probably argue he was strawberry blonde, back in the day), as well as a rampant Sean Williams.
But (and there is always a but) we also had the non-rampant Sean Muirhead.
The seemingly unflappable Sean * spent most of the game flapping about on the wing like a cuddly penguin pup, unable to grasp the ball in the many try scoring opportunities that were presented him.
Luckily he eventually found his rightful position, just a few steps away, on the other side of the touchline.
* Who else could stand so resolutely, for so long, under such bullying and harassment? The boy is a rock.
As expected, not once did the backs ever attempt any of their pre-match moves.
Simple hands was clearly the order of the day. Simple, short hands, in this wind.
The Turning Points
—————----------
Half time (wind factor).
Jay Evans coming on (or more importantly, Blandie coming off).
Muirhead running the touchline (he seems to carry that flag rather comfortably enough).
The Try
———-
Sadly, when all was well and truly lost, the Village Spartans gave up, and allowed the game to become just about Pete.
Within Sefton’s 22, as if on a pre-planned queue, the Spartans fell over as one (feigning death it seemed).
Was this a battle strategy they’d learnt from Kirk Douglas trying to lure the enemy into some false sense?
A lull ensued...
But quick thinking Pete was having none of it! He snatches the ball and proceeds to gallop 70 metres up the pitch to score!
For him, it was like scoring 35 tries all at once! He was ecstatic, out of breath (and thankfully lost for words!).
Alas, soon he found his breath, and many, many words. The same words, many times.
Kicking
-----——
One has to wonder what is going through some people’s heads as things happen around them.
How do some people manage to switch off and concentrate on the matter in hand?
We’d been warming up and playing for well over 40 minutes when we’d got our first penalty kick for touch.
In this time, we’d seen much garden furniture flying about, and even little Tommy James had been tornado’d over into the Golf Course.
The wind was relentless.
Up steps the remarkable Sean Muirhead. Fully focused on rugby. (Perhaps though, slightly overly focused on the ball, a little obsessively maybe?).
“Wind? What wind?”, is blowing between his ears, as he kicks the ball sweetly. “My beautiful caress, in front of the crowd.... why is the ball turning back to sail past me? Lanky, Lanky, where art thou?”.
Of course we had Blandie with his usual 8 metre restart. His best bet would’ve been with the wind in the second half, but by then, he’s been found out.
Summation
———------
Credit to the Village people for sticking to their guns today, giving the local crowd something to cheer about, in what has been a very uncheery season.
But, the 1s had their usual drubbing, so next week it’ll be the "same old" for them, with poor Eddie Nics needing more space in the "Away" bit of the Score Board.
As well, another constant that you can put your house on: Sean Muirhead will live to a ripe old age, because that kid is never catch the Corona virus.
Congrats to Temp Captain 2, Pete “2 Steps” Johnson, who’ll no doubt be gaily skipping down to the Registry Office for a formal name change on Monday (“just put a few more zeros in there please!”).
Yours,
Temp Reporter Campo x
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