Remember Syracuse? Remember how the club covered your room costs?
Well for those of you who never paid, it's time to settle the score.
Get your click on below, and take care of it.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Monday, May 22, 2006
NER-FUn
Portland made their annual Spring pilgrimage to Newport this past weekend for the annual NERFU Tournament. Of course, this wasn't our first trip to Newport this Spring, but this time it was under much less stressful circumstances, since this was to be (hopefully) our last appearance as a D3 team for a while.
Indeed, the days immediately preceding our departure provided the most stress, with several players availability up in the air right up to the last minute. In fact, a certain player, to remain nameless, even called at 6 a.m. on Saturday morning to cry off, complaining of a "puffy eye". This just proves my theory that Bukake is a lot more fun for the giver than the receiver.
Nevertheless, we were able to muster 17 stalwarts for the trip, including 3 very welcome college kids looking for some extra playing time. In typical Portland style we were able to leave within only 45 minutes of our intended start time, after the usual assortment of mechanical and logistical issues, along with plenty of squabbling about who gets to ride shotgun. For a change, the weather was fair, and we all made good time on the trip down. Arriving in plenty of time for our opening fixture against Middlesex Barbarians.
Having rolled the Baa Baa's fairly easily in the Fall, it was good to see that they'd added a little spine during the Winter, and their pack came out at a gallop as Portland adjusted to some new faces and some old ones in new positions. Fortunately you don't need to be a rocket scientist to tackle, so that's what we did, and were able to shut down most Middlesex attacks until they eventually coughed up the ball. The stiff breeze meant that regular line out possession was not a certainty, and the Portland backline suffered from less possession than they are used to. However, feeding of one of the scraps they were offered, Ted Dalton showed us all what we've been missing by his absence at practice, by fielding an unsuccessful touch kick and cutting back in side a handful of Middlesex players to set up the pack for a rolling maul into the try zone. Frenchy was the one on top at the end, and even though the ref was horribly placed, he couldn't deny the Portland team their dues. Nobody was going to have a good time kicking in the swampy conditions, and Spyder was no exception. 5-0 at half time.
In the second half Middlesex struggled for a Plan B, while Portland settled down and worked on securing more regular possession. Despite now facing into the breeze, Portland were able to spend much of their time in the opposition half, looking for a breakthrough. We made several attempts to keep the game flowing through quick tap penalties, but thanks to some pedantic reffing, we were frequently called back for not having completed the appropriate paperwork, and other such petty offenses. Eventually though, we got it right, and Jerry Alves was able to squirrel his way through to just make the line. Celebrations were marred however by the fact that just after touching the ball down, some Tubby Tucker fell down on top of Jerry and wrenched his shoulder out of joint. After several vain attempts to tug and pull his shoulder back in, he was helped off the field to work on his Morphine addiction.
A quick re-shuffle, and Portland was able to maintain the pressure, even mustering a third try to pretty much close out the game. 17-0 the final score, with only four hours to wait for our next game.
Based on earlier results, our second game was going to be against Boston's B side, who some of you may vividly recall had given an under strength Portland side a good hiding several weeks earlier. But don't get me started on that. I've moved on.
So, based on that earlier result, no doubt Boston was looking to roll over us pretty easily, but they were soon to learn that we too had grown a little spine since our last encounter.
Sure enough it was to be a physical encounter, with both sides running and hitting hard. This seemed to be take the Boston side back a little, and we were able to take an early lead through a perfectly placed kick to the corner from Spyder, which was pounced upon by a streaking Ted Dalton. 5-0 Portland. Stung by this surprising state of affairs, the Boston side dialed up the intensity and soon came back to threaten the Portland lines and ultimately break through in the corner. No conversion for them either, so it was 5-5 at the break.
In the second half the "physicality" boiled over in to outright fighting, with several off the ball bust ups, before a double yellow carding that saw the Boston prop and our own "gentle" Al Parks sent to the end zones to cool off. During this period of unrest is when Boston gained the upper hand, running in a couple of soft tries through the middle of our defense, only meeting some token resistance on the way. The tied scoreline soon turned in to a 17-5 advantage for Boston, and it would have been an easy choice for the Portland players to drop their heads and phone it in for the rest of the match.
On the contrary however the Portland side rallied, working their way up the field and putting together a crisp back move that put the flying rookie, Chris Bell, over in the corner, only to be clotheslined by the Boston fullback. A penalty try was awarded, so even Spyder could make the conversion, and Boston received their second yellow card.
With Boston playing short-handed, Portland mustered all their strength for one final push. Pinned in our own 22, we made several attempts to break out, with Scotty Derrig almost pulling it off, only to be pulled back for some minor infraction. Alas, with Boston returned to full strength, time ran out, and our boys came up short. 17-12 the final score.
Boston then went on to play, who else but the Wolfhounds in the final on Sunday, which they lost 17-10.
Saturday night proved to be a pretty mellow affair, with plenty of good cheer around the campfire. A few were having such a good time that they were still to be found spreading cheer around what remained of the campfire when Sunday morning rolled around. Alas, by this time they were more messy than mellow, so we owe our patient host, Mike, an even greater debt of gratitude for not wanting to herd us all out of there as quickly as possible.
The ride home proved uneventful, unless of course you consider throwing up on the Shoulder of Rt. 128 to be eventful...but I don't, so lets not talk about that.
Next up, Holmes Chapel on the 31st, all the way from the dear old Motherland. Rule Brittania!
Indeed, the days immediately preceding our departure provided the most stress, with several players availability up in the air right up to the last minute. In fact, a certain player, to remain nameless, even called at 6 a.m. on Saturday morning to cry off, complaining of a "puffy eye". This just proves my theory that Bukake is a lot more fun for the giver than the receiver.
Nevertheless, we were able to muster 17 stalwarts for the trip, including 3 very welcome college kids looking for some extra playing time. In typical Portland style we were able to leave within only 45 minutes of our intended start time, after the usual assortment of mechanical and logistical issues, along with plenty of squabbling about who gets to ride shotgun. For a change, the weather was fair, and we all made good time on the trip down. Arriving in plenty of time for our opening fixture against Middlesex Barbarians.
Having rolled the Baa Baa's fairly easily in the Fall, it was good to see that they'd added a little spine during the Winter, and their pack came out at a gallop as Portland adjusted to some new faces and some old ones in new positions. Fortunately you don't need to be a rocket scientist to tackle, so that's what we did, and were able to shut down most Middlesex attacks until they eventually coughed up the ball. The stiff breeze meant that regular line out possession was not a certainty, and the Portland backline suffered from less possession than they are used to. However, feeding of one of the scraps they were offered, Ted Dalton showed us all what we've been missing by his absence at practice, by fielding an unsuccessful touch kick and cutting back in side a handful of Middlesex players to set up the pack for a rolling maul into the try zone. Frenchy was the one on top at the end, and even though the ref was horribly placed, he couldn't deny the Portland team their dues. Nobody was going to have a good time kicking in the swampy conditions, and Spyder was no exception. 5-0 at half time.
In the second half Middlesex struggled for a Plan B, while Portland settled down and worked on securing more regular possession. Despite now facing into the breeze, Portland were able to spend much of their time in the opposition half, looking for a breakthrough. We made several attempts to keep the game flowing through quick tap penalties, but thanks to some pedantic reffing, we were frequently called back for not having completed the appropriate paperwork, and other such petty offenses. Eventually though, we got it right, and Jerry Alves was able to squirrel his way through to just make the line. Celebrations were marred however by the fact that just after touching the ball down, some Tubby Tucker fell down on top of Jerry and wrenched his shoulder out of joint. After several vain attempts to tug and pull his shoulder back in, he was helped off the field to work on his Morphine addiction.
A quick re-shuffle, and Portland was able to maintain the pressure, even mustering a third try to pretty much close out the game. 17-0 the final score, with only four hours to wait for our next game.
Based on earlier results, our second game was going to be against Boston's B side, who some of you may vividly recall had given an under strength Portland side a good hiding several weeks earlier. But don't get me started on that. I've moved on.
So, based on that earlier result, no doubt Boston was looking to roll over us pretty easily, but they were soon to learn that we too had grown a little spine since our last encounter.
Sure enough it was to be a physical encounter, with both sides running and hitting hard. This seemed to be take the Boston side back a little, and we were able to take an early lead through a perfectly placed kick to the corner from Spyder, which was pounced upon by a streaking Ted Dalton. 5-0 Portland. Stung by this surprising state of affairs, the Boston side dialed up the intensity and soon came back to threaten the Portland lines and ultimately break through in the corner. No conversion for them either, so it was 5-5 at the break.
In the second half the "physicality" boiled over in to outright fighting, with several off the ball bust ups, before a double yellow carding that saw the Boston prop and our own "gentle" Al Parks sent to the end zones to cool off. During this period of unrest is when Boston gained the upper hand, running in a couple of soft tries through the middle of our defense, only meeting some token resistance on the way. The tied scoreline soon turned in to a 17-5 advantage for Boston, and it would have been an easy choice for the Portland players to drop their heads and phone it in for the rest of the match.
On the contrary however the Portland side rallied, working their way up the field and putting together a crisp back move that put the flying rookie, Chris Bell, over in the corner, only to be clotheslined by the Boston fullback. A penalty try was awarded, so even Spyder could make the conversion, and Boston received their second yellow card.
With Boston playing short-handed, Portland mustered all their strength for one final push. Pinned in our own 22, we made several attempts to break out, with Scotty Derrig almost pulling it off, only to be pulled back for some minor infraction. Alas, with Boston returned to full strength, time ran out, and our boys came up short. 17-12 the final score.
Boston then went on to play, who else but the Wolfhounds in the final on Sunday, which they lost 17-10.
Saturday night proved to be a pretty mellow affair, with plenty of good cheer around the campfire. A few were having such a good time that they were still to be found spreading cheer around what remained of the campfire when Sunday morning rolled around. Alas, by this time they were more messy than mellow, so we owe our patient host, Mike, an even greater debt of gratitude for not wanting to herd us all out of there as quickly as possible.
The ride home proved uneventful, unless of course you consider throwing up on the Shoulder of Rt. 128 to be eventful...but I don't, so lets not talk about that.
Next up, Holmes Chapel on the 31st, all the way from the dear old Motherland. Rule Brittania!
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