Sefton RUFC

Pre-Match

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There was a positive feel about the day. Brendo and Dobie weren’t playing.

It hadn’t taken rocket science to work out that Dobie has played EVERY game that we’ve lost this season. No wonder he’s first pick in the Seconds, in their quest to go through the whole season defeated.

As for Brendo, he decided to go to the Manchester Christmas Markets. Yes, it is only November, there are plenty of weekends to go, and there are Sundays as well, but you gotta get your priorities right. Manchester took one for the team.

I had the good fortune to travel in JP Ellis’ car. Its funny how you can play rugby with someone for over a dozen years and you really don’t know them. JP actually likes girls. Dating. All different sorts. I was not surprised about his commitment though.

The Warm Up

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With what seemed an eternity before the kick off, you’d’ve thought that we had ample time to warm up.

BUT, the simple fact was that today, even if you had 6 hours, you could not possibly warm up.

It was Baltic.

Storm Arwen had only just finished uprooting trees and blowing out fence panels, leaving a bitter wind, and temperatures hovering around zero. We weren’t getting changed in any hurry.

The Ref finally forced us out of the changies, threatening forfeiture, and some of us were actually wondering if they made Lanky’s stockings in Men’s sizes.  

Injuries

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We were very fortunate today, in that the injury was sustained before the game.

Yes, Goulding turned up with a back spasm, which meant he couldn’t play.

And if Goulding doesn’t play, it means that there’s no Goulding mendacity.

God only knows what Goulding would talk about tonight though.

The Match

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31-41 is a lot of points, which means a lot of tries.

Lots of tries means lots of missed tackles.

BUT, it could have been worse. Stopping the constant scoring was the fact that we were continually scrummaging.

The handling was poor. Having no feeling in your hands does that.

You may think that cuddling up with 15 other guys would warm your cockles, but not on a day like today.

The only good thing about being squashed in at hooker is that there was a brief cessation of the uncontrollable shivering.

The scrums were what today was about.

There is a decent slope on the moors of Moore, and we were pushing uphill in the first half.

Hard work, but things got easier in the second half.

The Turning Point – Moving Lanky

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Did I mention we had a lot of scrums?

Oh, and I may have forgot to tell you that we were playing “The Gentlemen of Moore”.

Rather an innocent name you would think, but I do think really think they should be called, “The VERY WELL FED Gentlemen of Moore”.

Basically, they breed ‘em big out here.

We really struggled to contain them.

As hooker, I found myself in positions that I didn’t know I could achieve.

Positions that, had I knew I could achieve, I probably wouldn’t wanna leave home. Now I know why dogs have that smug look on their face.

Anyway, it didn’t take me long to realise the problem was on the Flank, at 6, where Lanky was hiding. I bravely took it upon myself to shore up that side of the scrum, swapping positions with Lanky.

Sure enough, the buckling, squealing (and licking) in the front row, was soon stopped.

Kicking

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It was kinda arranged before the game, an unspoken agreement not to kick in such fierce winds. Surely Moore only had so many balls. A day like today could cripple them financially.

Sefton did mighty well for 79 minutes, but then, of course, it wouldn’t be a game of rugby if Jay Evans doesn’t place his stamp on the match….

Jay had waited patiently for nearly ALL the match.

Sefton had finally clawed their way in front, hanging precariously to a narrow lead. A rampant Moore had the ball, deep in Sefton’s territory. There were only seconds to go…

The ref blew his whistle, and we automatically formed a scrum. He shouted, “last play boys”.

From the side of the scrum, I watched Evo push Hamling aside, determined to get his hands on the ball at 10. No, not his hands, his foot.

Sefton win the scrum, Blandie swivels 180 degrees for his left sided pass, rainbowing it to the slavering Jay, who had one thing on his mind: “Finish the game with the most spectacular kick ever kicked, a kick that will turn my myth into legend. A kick that will defy this Force 10 gale and make the Moore neighbours tremble at the very mention of the Sefton name”.

(ok, that was many things, but it was written all over his face).

Anyway, the ball is launched, and we all watch, in a collective agony of discomforture, as it floats up, and back over Jay’s proud head, into the vacant fullback position (where was our 15, Jay Evans?).

Another thing about these well fed Moore forwards, they know which way the wind blows, and they were soon upon it. Sefton had to defend for at least 2 phases before the last knock on…

Man of the Match

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For so long at Sefton, we’ve associated the name Brian as a figure of fun. Someone who you really couldn’t take very seriously, especially on the rugby pitch. Our Brian was just a very naughty boy.

Today, we met a new Bryan. And indeed, he was like the Messiah.

New Bryan took it upon himself to do all Sefton’s attacking, seemingly being the only one to touch the ball all game.

But what a runner. He is like an eel, twisting and slipping his way through the Moore team.

This guy is unstoppable, he convulses and writhes out of tackles – we thought we needed an exorcist at one point – but he made a lot of yards today, and deserved the Man of the Match award.

Summation

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It is for places like Moore, on days like today, that the word ‘bleak’ was invented.

A credit really, to both teams, for actually going out to play – we had to run our socks off just to stop shivering.

Special mention again of the Ref, John. How he managed to avoid hyperthermia is beyond me, barely getting out of breath as he wandered idly from scrum to scrum.

Campo xx