From the Portland news archives comes this scratchy piece of footage of some unknown players running in a try, appropriately enough against Burlington. Circa 2001 and filmed in classic Amateurovision, you can just make out a mugging going on before the assailants take flight and disappear into the distance. I understand that no charges were ever pressed.
An underwhelming reward is available to anyone who can name the four perps, or the two other witnesses who are still alive and might actually still be found on a rugby pitch today (i.e. active player). Please use the anonymous tip line below.
Apologies to Bono for the 18 seconds of screaming that we borrowed without paying for. We...erm...sent the royalty check to some starving kids in Africa, but then Madonna adopted them and we lost track of it after that. Sorryboutcha.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Monday, October 23, 2006
Why We Write
Sorry Dom, I may not have tails of Portland success to regale you with this week, but snark I've got in abundance. Having gone down to South Shore and given up a slim early-second half lead to record another tough loss, they then have the temerity to ask why we publish our match reports. The implication here is that we give away too much of ourselves by publishing our exploits (or lack thereof) for everyone to see.
This has sent my in to an uncharacteristic fit of soul searching, wondering if, by my actions, I have somehow been responsible for the record that it has become my increasingly solemn duty to report each week. Well, after the five minutes that it took to search the very depths of my character (which included time to make a sandwich), I've concluded that there is probably lots that I have done (or not done) to contribute to our record, but that writing and publishing match reports is pretty low down on the list. I fully intend to "go off" on this subject in a moment, but for those without a taste for self-righteous indignation, of if you're from Burlington or Hartford and just want to pick up some juicy facts for the coming weeks, here are the deets from this past weekend:
"Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns". Ah, George Eliot...how he/she so eloquently captures the beauty of the seasons. Oh, wait...that's right...I'm supposed to be giving away club secrets, not waxing lyrical.
So it was sunny and windy, and it was nice. Both sides were well matched through the first half although South Shore scored first when their winger broke through to score underneath the posts, giving the home side a 7-point lead. Within 10 minutes Portland struck back after passing the ball through several pairs of hands to send Hannes diving over for another try to add to his growing tally. 7-7 at half time.
Early in the Second Half Portland pressured the South Shore line again, but had to settle for a penalty and a slim 10-7 lead. Although this pressure continued, the advantage began to slip as South Shore made some shrewd substitutions that added further beef to their already strong pack. As the game drew in to the final quarter the South Shore dominance up front was almost complete, which ultimately yielded two scores through concerted forward pressure. Final score 21-10.
There then. I defy our remaining opponents to glean much tactical advantage from a write up like that. You could get a wealth more knowledge from a couple of well placed e-mails around the league than you ever could from the well-worn cliches that I churn out. Hell, you could read the ref's report for that matter.
Of course, it could be different (and worse, for our opponents). I could have chosen to write about South Shore's lineout preferences and the best way to combat them. Indeed, there are any number of juicy tidbits about South Shore or any of the other teams that we have played that I could have posted up here in our match reports, but I think you'll find that my style leans more towards the prosaic than the factual. That's just how I roll.
So why do I bother? Well, other than the pleasure derived from mental masturbation, I like to think that the match report offers some kind of catharsis for those involved, and helps keep the club together, particularly during the times when things might not be going so well. Hopefully the broader Portland Rugby community, who may no longer be playing, but who may still be interested in the fortunes of the club, are also kept sufficiently interested so that when the time comes to pass the hat or scrape up an Old Boys team they will answer the call.
So as I plow this lonely furrow of match reports and random rambling, and cast my gaze across the sites of our competitors, I can't help but think that the impression elsewhere is one of dereliction. I'm sure, in fact I know, that many of our fellow clubs are vibrant beneath the surface, but are wenoy not [thanks, Jimmy] all in the end in the business of marketing ourselves to prospective players? Personally speaking, if all you have in "Club News" is your paintball outing in March, last year's banquet or some cursory reference to your latest result, I can't help but find it all a bit lacking. Shouldn't there be some kind of virtual tumbleweed blowing across these scenes?
We're lucky here in Portland that there aren't too many other choices for playing rugby, so even those lads with too short of an attention span to read all this rubbish will probably end up playing with us anyway. But in a competitive recruitment environment like Boston, I'd think that displaying a little activity on your website might go a long way. It may sound a bit gay, but I think most of us are in this to nourish our souls as well as meet our physical need to run around and hit things, so a spark of personality might go a long way.
In the end, this probably represents the biggest change I've seen in Division II in the year that we were away. For all its shortcomings, Division III was a more vibrant community, from the Wolfhounds to Middlesex to Seacaost. For all the intensity of competition, they were for the most part, as they say at the 'hounds, "in it for the craic". All of this new found seriousness in DII brings a smirk to my face, and it seems to come from a lack of perspective. We are all, after all, playing a modest level of rugby in what some might call a third-world rugby nation. I think that makes us more like missionaries than anything else. As boys we all watched our favorite athletes on TV (or for some of you, your favorite dance routines on Broadway), and we tried to copy them, but it was all just play-acting in the end.
Sorry, I lost my way a bit there. Of course, were we 5-1 instead of 1-5, you might say that I'd be singing a different song, and the website would be as tight lipped as a Tony Snow press conference. But I'd be the first to admit that writing all this crap is above all self-indulgent, so until the club slaps me with a muzzle order I'd like to think that I'd keep spouting off, regardless of our record.
My old pal Oscar Wilde noted that, "It is a curious fact that people are never so trivial as when they take themselves seriously." Some might say that this blog is a case in point.
Your are now free to post your vitriolic response below.
P.S. The Killer B's either won, lost or tied; but whatever it was, it was close. It looked like two tries for each side to me. A side man-of-the-match honors went to Scotty Derrig, getting it done at full back, and B side honors went to Ed Lutjens for scoring the final try in the B game, that might have won it...or tied it...or not.
This has sent my in to an uncharacteristic fit of soul searching, wondering if, by my actions, I have somehow been responsible for the record that it has become my increasingly solemn duty to report each week. Well, after the five minutes that it took to search the very depths of my character (which included time to make a sandwich), I've concluded that there is probably lots that I have done (or not done) to contribute to our record, but that writing and publishing match reports is pretty low down on the list. I fully intend to "go off" on this subject in a moment, but for those without a taste for self-righteous indignation, of if you're from Burlington or Hartford and just want to pick up some juicy facts for the coming weeks, here are the deets from this past weekend:
"Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns". Ah, George Eliot...how he/she so eloquently captures the beauty of the seasons. Oh, wait...that's right...I'm supposed to be giving away club secrets, not waxing lyrical.
So it was sunny and windy, and it was nice. Both sides were well matched through the first half although South Shore scored first when their winger broke through to score underneath the posts, giving the home side a 7-point lead. Within 10 minutes Portland struck back after passing the ball through several pairs of hands to send Hannes diving over for another try to add to his growing tally. 7-7 at half time.
Early in the Second Half Portland pressured the South Shore line again, but had to settle for a penalty and a slim 10-7 lead. Although this pressure continued, the advantage began to slip as South Shore made some shrewd substitutions that added further beef to their already strong pack. As the game drew in to the final quarter the South Shore dominance up front was almost complete, which ultimately yielded two scores through concerted forward pressure. Final score 21-10.
There then. I defy our remaining opponents to glean much tactical advantage from a write up like that. You could get a wealth more knowledge from a couple of well placed e-mails around the league than you ever could from the well-worn cliches that I churn out. Hell, you could read the ref's report for that matter.
Of course, it could be different (and worse, for our opponents). I could have chosen to write about South Shore's lineout preferences and the best way to combat them. Indeed, there are any number of juicy tidbits about South Shore or any of the other teams that we have played that I could have posted up here in our match reports, but I think you'll find that my style leans more towards the prosaic than the factual. That's just how I roll.
So why do I bother? Well, other than the pleasure derived from mental masturbation, I like to think that the match report offers some kind of catharsis for those involved, and helps keep the club together, particularly during the times when things might not be going so well. Hopefully the broader Portland Rugby community, who may no longer be playing, but who may still be interested in the fortunes of the club, are also kept sufficiently interested so that when the time comes to pass the hat or scrape up an Old Boys team they will answer the call.
So as I plow this lonely furrow of match reports and random rambling, and cast my gaze across the sites of our competitors, I can't help but think that the impression elsewhere is one of dereliction. I'm sure, in fact I know, that many of our fellow clubs are vibrant beneath the surface, but are we
We're lucky here in Portland that there aren't too many other choices for playing rugby, so even those lads with too short of an attention span to read all this rubbish will probably end up playing with us anyway. But in a competitive recruitment environment like Boston, I'd think that displaying a little activity on your website might go a long way. It may sound a bit gay, but I think most of us are in this to nourish our souls as well as meet our physical need to run around and hit things, so a spark of personality might go a long way.
In the end, this probably represents the biggest change I've seen in Division II in the year that we were away. For all its shortcomings, Division III was a more vibrant community, from the Wolfhounds to Middlesex to Seacaost. For all the intensity of competition, they were for the most part, as they say at the 'hounds, "in it for the craic". All of this new found seriousness in DII brings a smirk to my face, and it seems to come from a lack of perspective. We are all, after all, playing a modest level of rugby in what some might call a third-world rugby nation. I think that makes us more like missionaries than anything else. As boys we all watched our favorite athletes on TV (or for some of you, your favorite dance routines on Broadway), and we tried to copy them, but it was all just play-acting in the end.
Sorry, I lost my way a bit there. Of course, were we 5-1 instead of 1-5, you might say that I'd be singing a different song, and the website would be as tight lipped as a Tony Snow press conference. But I'd be the first to admit that writing all this crap is above all self-indulgent, so until the club slaps me with a muzzle order I'd like to think that I'd keep spouting off, regardless of our record.
My old pal Oscar Wilde noted that, "It is a curious fact that people are never so trivial as when they take themselves seriously." Some might say that this blog is a case in point.
Your are now free to post your vitriolic response below.
P.S. The Killer B's either won, lost or tied; but whatever it was, it was close. It looked like two tries for each side to me. A side man-of-the-match honors went to Scotty Derrig, getting it done at full back, and B side honors went to Ed Lutjens for scoring the final try in the B game, that might have won it...or tied it...or not.
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