A Bath Don't Come For Free

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.

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!

Classic Gold

I'm sorry, I just can't write about the rain any more. After so many shitty, freezing, rain soaked Saturdays, I'm just flat out of adjectives. So, let me just point out that it rained again this weekend. And then it rained some more. Go figure.

So, now that's out of the way, on to something almost as reliable as rain on Saturdays - an ill tempered encounter with Old Gold. Well, to be fair, in comparison with some of the games of yore, this was a pretty tame affair, but just like Ali vs. Frazier, no Portland - Old Gold game goes off without its fair share of trash talk, yelling and finger wagging. "Thrilla in Manila"? Perhaps not. "Hissy Fit in the Hay Field" more like.

Anyway, if you really wanted a blow-by-blow account of the game by now you probably would have gone and read Old Gold's match report. Even though it's at best incoherent, you probably would have been able to glean that Portland squeaked out a narrow 18-17 victory, and despite some questionable tries scored by both sides, the dodgy reffing seemed to even itself out in the end, and the result seemed like a fair one. It's funny how OG only whines about the knock-ons, but is conspicuously silent when the ref turns a blind eye to a touch judge's flag and lets them poach a late score. Ah, how absence makes the heart grow fonder.

So that's about it on the game. Hannes snagged another man-of-the-match, so it's time to introduce some kind of handicapping system. Thanks to Portland Pie for the great pizza, and Gritty's for the beer.

Oh, and one more thing...

It turns out that NERFU has gone back on their decision to kick anyone out of D2 for the Fall, so the league expands to 9 teams, which is of course an odd number, and now means a bye week, a longer season for all, and an extra road trip for some. Fantastic - big oil wrings it's hands with delight. Of course, it was deemed that Newport had done a good rebuilding job in the off season and would have been too strong for D3. K. I bear no ill will to Newport, who are a decent bunch of lads with a good team, but am I the only one seeing the inconsistency here? I don't remember NERFU handing out such concessions when it was our turn to go down. And what about the Wolfhounds? No offence to Newport, but having been cuffed around by the 'hounds once already this year on their inexorable march to the D3 National Championship, I hardly think Newport (or any demotee from D2) is going to make D3 any more lopsided than it already is.

One of the pillars of respect is consistency.

On Deck - Old Gold

Pack up your wellies and bring them up to the Fairgrounds this Saturday for a long overdue match up with our old friends, Old Gold. There used to be a time when it seemed as though we played Old Gold every other weekend, but our diverging fortunes have sent us different directions in recent months, as we experienced life in the lower echelons and they faked their way to the top of D2 for a few weeks.

But now it looks as though our paths are converging again, not only this Saturday, but as we return to D2 for the Fall. Roll on good times in Franklin Park and whatever seedy dive they happen to drink in.

KO of the A Side game will be 1pm, just after it stops raining, with a B side game following right along after.

Portland's disappearing Act

This weekend the entire Portland squad was ravaged by a severe case of lame-excusiosis, that meant that 8 starters from the previous weekend had some "thing-with-a-thing" that they had to take care of. Couple this with a host of other no-shows, cry-offs, let-downs and general apathy and it meant that Portland could only muster 14 stalwarts for the trip down to play Boston's B side, who by definition would be those contending for a place on their Superleauge side.

Fielding a makeshift front row that included one of Boston's leftovers, we rather predictably had our arses handed to us to us to the tune of 67-7. Only a late score from Scotty Derrig on the stroke of full time allowed us to retain some shred of dignity, after having spent much of the preceding 79 minutes getting worked over by a well drilled and athletic side.

A retrospective man-of-the-match award should go to Marcos Miller for providing us with a tackling clinic, since unfortunately he had plenty of opportunity to demonstrate his skills. Thanks and credit go to all of those who made the trip down, even if it was in a futile cause. To the rest of you wasters, well...it's not fit to publish.

Rumors of a club renaissance may turn out to be grossly exaggerated if on any given weekend a few injuries and other assorted excuses mean we're no longer even able to field a full side.

Syracuse, I won't miss you

The Portland team left Maine last Friday in bright sunshine with 6-7 hours of driving ahead of them as they made for the fair city of Syracuse, and the NRU Division 3 Final 4. The pleasant weather and picturesque surroundings for much of the journey were however a cruel prelude for what was to be a weekend of mostly foul weather and the squalid Syracuse surroundings. I'm sure that Syracuse does have a nice part to it, but it was clearly not in evidence this weekend, and even if it had been, it probably would have still looked like crap in the miserable weather.

For the most part however the journey passed without event, and as the team checked in to the Dis-Comfort Suites the 65 degree weather gave no indication of what was to come. But as most of us know by now, Portland travels with its own black cloud...they just hadn't arrived yet.

The lodgings proved to be adequate, if a little overpopulated by kids and old people. Nevertheless it was off to the neighborhood western-themed steakhouse, which was doing its best to emphasize the "ugly" in Coyote Ugly. Just as well, since the Portland boys were not in need of distraction, but rather a good feed and an early night.

The following morning dawned to reveal steady rains and a 20 degree drop in temperature, indicating that the Portland weather had indeed arrived. It proved to be a long morning of pacing around as the team prepared to square off against Old Blue C-side at 2:30 that afternoon. Having talked with Hudson Valley the previous week, we knew that Old Blue was capable of producing some very different sides, depending on what that their SL and D1 side was up to on the same day.

Arriving at the field we learned that Syracuse had run the Wolfhounds close in the other semi-final but ultimately come up short. This meant that a victory would assure us with a "date with destiny" the following day. Before that however, there was the small matter of Old Blue in weather and pitch conditions which were not going to bring out the best in either team. So, as the Portland team did their best to get warm in the rain, we began to wonder where exactly Old Blue were, and whether they had been scared off by the inclement weather. It was only later that we learned that they had actually rented out an indoor facility in town for their warm up, and then hopped on their bus (complete with Park Ranger escort) to arrive pitch-side all revved up and raring to go. Oh, how the other half live...

Winning the toss, Portland elected to get the hard stuff out of the way early by playing uphill and into the wind for the first half. If we could minimize the damage, we could then use the elements to our advantage in the second half and pile on the pressure. The wisdom of this strategy looked a little questionable in the early going however, with Old Blue swinging the ball wide to their speedy wings and scoring an early try. Kicking was going to be difficult in the swampy conditions, so Portland got away with just a 5-0 deficit from the early lapse.

After the wakeup call Portland set about putting up some sort of resistance, and began tackling anything and everything that moved. This included a tackle from Jerry Alves that required him to take a "short breather" face down in the mud. Once he came-to, he was helped off the field on wobbly legs, only to return to his expletive-hurling self within a couple of minutes - much to everyone's relief.

A stalemate ensued for the remainder of the first half, with Old Blue playing a tactically naive game, as the continued to run the ball down the slope, rather than take advantage of the wind at their backs. With both sides pushing a couple of penalties wide, the scoreline remained unchanged by the time the half-time whistle blew.

With Jerry off the field, Scotty Derrig moved to scrum half and Spyder to fly half, and immediately the second half began we started launching bombs into the corners, proving that while the Old Blue wings might like to run, they looked conspicuously ill at ease under the high ball. This pressure was soon to yield results, with Fred Hayman capping of a well executed move in the corner. Shortly afterwards Hannes Bouwer broke through the Old Blue defenses at the 22 to barrel over for another score. In no time the 5-0 deficit had been turned around in to a 10-5 lead in Portland's favor.

Old Blue were not out of it however, with the introduction of their Super (league?) Sub at flanker, who charged down two kicks in quick succession to pin Portland back in their own half. Under constant pressure from Old Blue, the Portland defenses finally gave way to allow a second try and tie the scores at 10-10. With the clock expiring, the possibility of extra time looked very real.

Cometh the hour, cometh the man; Portland soon returned to their aerial assault, raining down misery on the Old Blue wings, and before long the pressure told. Once again Hannes was the man of the hour, scoring his second try, and giving Portland the scent of victory. Shortly afterwards Andy Nelson made the only kick of the day from a penalty, taking the scoreline to 17-10 and effectively putting it out of reach of Old Blue.

So that's how it all ended up, with the rain stopping just as the final whistle blew. Bloody typical. Nevertheless the Portland smiles were all sunshine, having overcome the early scare and grinding out a hard fought win.

Back to the hotel where we attempted to clean of the many layers of mud that had accumulated during the game. After about an hour of that it was off to the after-party at some dingy Syracuse hang out, that had the statutory two dishes of pasta to serve four teams and all their hangers on. WTF? We exchanged a few polite words with the Wolfhounds before their curfew meant they had to leave, and after a few drinks we bade a hasty retreat behind them, back to the steakhouse that we just couldn't get enough of.

Of course, all that steak makes you thirsty, and this clubs swills more Jack & Coke than chics at a hen night. Nuff said. Back to the hotel, and of course Portland has yet to meet the bar that it doesn't like, so it was another couple of rounds before the sensible ones started drifting off to bed. Meanwhile a few others scared up what passes for female companionship in the Dis-Comfort Suites, and a raucous dice game ensued. I'm sure it only ended in tears.

Sunday dawned overcast but at least it wasn't raining. First on the "honey do" list was to find a laundromat and try to clean up our kit before getting it filthy all over again that afternoon. Trust me, nothing starts your day off better than a couple of hours in a Syracuse laundromat. Good times.

The rest of the morning passed without event before the ride out to the swamp pitch, where Syracuse was involved in a spirited encounter with Old Blue. The two sides went toe-to-toe, with the home side squeaking out a 10-8 victory. Now for the all-NERFU main event...

...and that's about where the fairytale ended. It's my sad duty to report that Portland pretty much rolled over and played dead in the final, giving the Wolfhounds an easy pass to South Carolina. Even playing down the slope in the first half Portland failed to mount much in the way of offense, unless of course you count a sin binning. Meanwhile the 'hounds came out fresh and handled the ball well as they scored with depressing regularity. Andy Nelson was able to stroke over a couple of penalties in an attempt to get some Portland mo-jo going, but we never really got out of first gear. Final score 43-6. Ouch!

So the Wolfhounds move on to the National Sweet 16 in Columbia, SC, and lets hope they go on to win it all in San Diego, so at least we can say we were knocked out by the National Champs. Ah well, its probably going to rain anyway.

A quick rub down to get the worst of the mud off then back in the cars for the 7 hour ride home. I'm sure that few tears were shed as Syrcause fell away in the rear view mirrors.