Some PRFC-SSA pictures from this past Saturday. Not the best, but some do make you wonder what was going on and there are also a couple of CB and his evil twin.

Well, the Maine Collegiate Rugby Championship is now behind us, and those irrepressible Colby Mules have done it again. They overcame some tough resistance to capture both the Men's and Women's titles, on a day perfectly set for their own brand of running rugby. Pictures and a full recapping of the day's events will no doubt be forthcoming on the MCRC Website, but for now I will just send thanks from the club and all present to Dom Tracey for his tireless work in making this event possible, and to all our sponsors, and in particular to Charlie Hews and Hews Truck Bodies and Equipment for their continued financial support.

Portland RFC 24 South Shore Anchors 10

Amidst all the youth and vitality of the MCRC two "grown up" sides took the field in an attempt to show these young shavers a thing or two about how to play rugby. Whether they did or not, or whether anyone was even paying attention, is open to debate, but the two sides enjoyed a spirited encounter in some blustery conditions.

As usually my recollection is limited to a few brief vignettes, and the bucketful of beer afterwards doesn't seem to have helped my memory any. As I remember it the game began at a frenetic pace, and it wasn't long before Portland was pressuring deep in to the South Shore half. It also wasn't long before Andy Nelson found himself in the wrong end of a Tractor sandwich, and as a result he now has a few more bits to his collar bone than the rest of us, and a spare sleeve in most of his sweaters.

In the mean time the Portland pressure paid off with a couple of tries, one for Matt Winch which I don't remember much about (sorry Matt) and another for Shaun Durfee which came from a lineout scrap. Moving at full speed from about ten yards out, there wasn't too much that was going to stop him. South Shore had a few lineout scraps of their own, and they capitalized on some tap ball to string together a few passes and score their first try.

Well, that's enough about them. The second half brought in plenty of fresh legs; some of them even attached to fresh bodies. Portland continued to dominate in the scrum and spent a prolonged period camped on the South Shore line. But there were no Smores (or scores) for the home team, when the inevitable try was disallowed because the ball carrier was apparently held up by some invisible force. But hey, I'm not bitter about that, godammit it!

No matter. The concerted pressure soon paid off when Matt Winch was able to shrug off a couple of tacklers to score his second try. According to Matt his two scores were still one less than he deserved, but hey, maybe he's going to need to get his own blog if he wants to go on about that. So, instead of a hatrick for the Winchenator, Mike Desalle took the bull by the horns and carried it, the ball, and a couple of Anchors over the line for another score, Durfee-stylee.

But those plucky old Anchors never quit, and continued hoisting the ball cleverly in to the swirling winds. This paid off for them when they were able to scoop up a dropped ball and run in it for their second try. Anyway, that's about as much as I can remember of the match, and those of you with conflicting accounts should write them on the back of a twenty dollar bill and send them to me, and I'll make sure that history reflects your philanthropy.

Thanks go to Shaun Durfee and Sarah for their hospitality after the match, and to Joey D. for his entertaining picnic table dismount. I'm afraid that he may have hit his head on the way down, since he was incoherent for the rest of the night.

There. I wrote this whole thing and didn't once refer to them as South Shore Wanchors. Such restraint.

If you thought that our coach was already an angry, young man, then this is sure to send him over the edge. On this day 990 years ago King Brian of Ireland was killed by "tree Vikings fellas" at Clontarf, which I think is a pub outside Dublin. Bloody Vikings! As a result Ireland fell in to anarchy, and some might say that it's remained that way ever since. In true Irish style, they named a pub after their dear king, Brian Boru. And, much like Ireland, it is a very dark and depressing place.

No, really....I kid because I love!

Anyway, lets win one for Brian (and coach) tomorrow. We will be facing the South Shore Anchors, who, if their roster is to be believed, have a few players to resemble the famed Irish giant, Finn mac Cumhail. We'll see about all that.

Once again I'll turn again to that famous non-Irishman, Kipling, for words of inspiration,
"For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack."

Think about it.

You want something to get chippy about? I have seen the future, and it's name is "Kaguya". I think that's Japanese for "men suck" and it's the name of that mouse they created with two mums and no dad! Today mice, tomorrow sheep, and the day after that little girly-men. Well, I guess the best we can hope for is that we get to watch before we get put back in our cages at the zoo.

On a brighter note, this weekend is the 3rd Annual Maine Collegiate Rugby Championship, where some of the brightest minds in Maine come together to get concussed. Here are some approximate directions for you (go to Fairgrounds Road). This will be a veritable carnival of rugby, although arguably it will be missing the sideshow freaks and deep fried Twinkies, so you are welcome to bring your own. That action starts at 9am and runs all day, including a game for Portland Youth Rugby and our own side against South Shore Anchors. So come on out to Cumberland County Fairgrounds and revel in this celebration of higher learning and the benefits of a liberal arts degree - do you want fries with that?

Oh god, there goes my afternoon....

When I said that all "brawlers" were welcome at practice last night, I was speaking in the vernacular. Apparently some of you took me literally. Either that or you got bit in the arse by a radioactive spider.

Eighty-six years ago today Manfred von Richthofen joined the big dog-fight in the sky. The Red Baron had 80 kills to his name, making him the most prolific arial ace on either side of the Western Front. But even the baddest m.f.'s get their day, and the Baron was no exception. Shot down by an Australian gunner behind enemy lines, he ploughed a nearby field with his trademark Fokker triplane. His body was recovered by the British and buried with full military honors, but he was dead nonetheless, at the tender age of 25. Aint that Karma a bitch?

For those of you looking to gain some insight from last night, I present the following. For the rest of you, might I suggest this. Thusday at Fox Street, 6pm. Let's play nice, K?

It 's Tuesday, April 20th, 102 years to the day that Marie Curie isolated radium in her shed. 32 years later she was gone, victim to leukemia. The moral: science is bad. The only good thing we ever got from radium was that spider that bit Peter Parker and turned him in to Spiderman.

So, anyway, it's a minty fresh day, perfect for practice. All ballers, shot-callers, brawlers etc. should be at Fox Street @ 6pm. Playa-haters not welcome.

Also, I am pleased to announce that my worshipers have crowned me Grammar God, thanks to this fiendish little quiz. See if you can join me on my cloud, or must continue your puny mortal existence. Bow low down at the wrath of my split infinitive! Mwahahahahahahaha!

Oh, yeah, and I also rated the Perfect Girlfriend on this one. It's going to be a good day, sistahs!