Proving emphatically that there really is too much of a good thing, a spirited Holmes Chapel side had their boozy past catch up with them Wednesday night, when, despite early promise, they faded in the evening sun to a more properly hydrated Portland team.
Employing typical homeside sabotage, Portland had ensured that the home side was well supplied with beer the previous night at the welcome reception, hosted by our gracious sponsors, Gritty's. Resembling a gang of comic-book burglars in their black & white stripey shirts, the Holmes Chapel touring party arrived at the reception already the worse for wear from their day out in Boston. A few beers seemed to breath new life in to them however, and they were soon organizing their Kangaroo Court to administer justice on tour miscreants. Thanks to an anonymous tip, they also singled out the man-child Francis for his puffy eye/knee stories, and yours truly got himself a drink just for being the poor mug with his name attached to the invite.
Soon the Chapel boys were in full song, showing us all what true singing sounds like, as opposed to Tractor getting on a table and shouting the words to the S&M Man, while nearby listeners lost their lunch thanks to the anything-but-subtle lyrics. Holmes Chapel Choir 1, Portland Howling Chorus 0. Despite their apparent revulsion however, the tourists were soon mingling freely and socializing. Even J-Wil managed to find his emotional soul mate on the Holmes Chapel team, and a lively discussion ensued, comparing their respective playing skills, and the ever escalating stakes on making or avoiding contact the following day. Ahhh, rugby...the international language of brotherly love.
Having beat a relatively early retreat, I'm only going by second hand reports that the proceedings became increasingly rowdy, until it was again left to Ryan Facey to let us know when things had gone too far. Like some kind of alcoholic barometer, Ryan can be relied upon to turn belligerent and do something (self) destructive when its time for everyone to go home. This time however, instead of throwing up on his teammates, he managed to impale himself on a glass, and then do his best to resist medical attention. Fortunately for Ryan however, he always forgets the scary bits, so is ready to do it all again the next day.
Thus ended the reception, although I'm told that many of the HC boys continued on the sauce in to the wee small hours. Huge thanks are due to Richard Pfeffer and his patient staff at Gritty's, who showed us all much hospitality, regardless of the risk of scaring away their regular patrons.
So while the tourists were sleeping off their hangovers, many of the rest of us were forced in to work the next day to prop up a desk and shuffle papers around in effort to look busy. I'm sure my boss was particularly proud of me for fielding a steady stream of rugby-related calls all day, at the expense of any real work getting done. First came the, "who was most messed up?" calls (you already know the answer to that one), followed by the early afternoon "what time is kick off" calls (Look on the website!), then come the late afternoon "I can't play / can't make it on time" calls (WTF?).
Nevertheless, the perfect evening weather was able to dispel most of my residual grumpiness from taking all those calls, and as the Portland players arrived it was time to piece together a team from those present.
Once the side had been appropriately attired and stretched, the Chapel boys kicked off to the cheers of their assembled subs and sundry tourists. Right away they came out at a sprint, spinning the ball wide and displaying some menacing pace. Sure enough the on-rushing Portland defense left some inviting holes, and one missed tackle let through a Chapel player unmolested to score under the posts. Portland were able to bounce back a little and slot over a penalty, but no sooner had they done so than the tourists scored again, opening up an ominous 12-3 lead.
Time for Portland to knuckle down and secure some possession. Thanks to a couple of penalties we were able to work our way down the touchlines to set up the first of several tries that were to come either directly or indirectly as a result of Portland's lineout dominance. Grinding our way back in to the game, the home side was able to muster two tries in the first half, bringing the scoreline at the break to more respectable 15-12 in our favor.
Portland's control of the game continued in the second half with several more scores widening the gap, but as usual most of their scorer's names escape me. Hannes had a brace I think, and maybe Evan, Scotty Derrig and Fred Hayman all chipped in. My theory is that if you know who scored all the tries, then you're getting lost in the details and not thinking far enough ahead.
Anyway, despite being unaccustomed to the heat, and with all the dehydration sending their blood-alcohol content to dangerous levels, Holmes Chapel were not out of it, as they continued to produce solid ball from the scrums and swing it wide. This eventually paid of for them as they were to release their speedy wing around the end of the Portland defense, giving him a clear 40 yd. run in to the try zone at the stroke of full time. With the conversion made, the final scoreline was something like 30-odd to 19, in Portland's favor. All good stuff.
Afters were to be found at Fore Play, where everyone was a little more subdued than they had been the night before. Still, once the beer started flowing and the pizza all gone we all found the energy for a few speeches and some general gift swapping. Big ups were given to HC Captain-on-the-day, Gary Cottam and 1st Team Captain and Tour Organizer/Grownup, Mike Corfield. A token of our affection was also presented to the Holmes Chapel President Dai Dowden, who seemed to have lost his voice...a rare condition for a Welshman. We also gave thanks to their medical officer, Rod Morgan-Smith, who patched Ryan back up the previous night, and to their Man of the Match, fleet-of-foot Outside Center, Pat Kennedy.
Our own man of the match was Scotty Derrig, who deservedly broke the Hannes streak, and did an admirably job "taking his medicine".
So all in all another good night, and grand couple of days. Holmes Chapel proved themselves to be a top bunch of lads, and have placed themselves firmly on the list of Portland Rugby Club BFF's. Given our normal antisocial outlook, that's an exclusive list indeed.
After leaving Portland, Holmes Chapel have headed up to Farmington, and no doubt have already run out of things to do. Not all of Maine can be as hospitable as Portland.
Godspeed lads. Come back and see us again soon.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Rugby's coming Holme(s)
Apologies for the corny headline.
I'd like to extend a big welcome to Holmes Chapel, who are touring Maine (of all places) this week, and who we will be playing at the Fairgrounds this Wednesday night.
For those of you who never went to school (in England), Holmes Chapel is a village located in Cheshire, which is a county in North West England. Despite being located right next to the oft-reviled cities of Manchester and Liverpool, Cheshire is actually one of the wealthiest counties in the country, since all the rich people who make a living in those cities prefer to live there. Indeed, according to the Index of Deprivation (wtf? Only in England.), Holmes Chapel is the 18th least deprived ward (electoral district) in the country. Not to shabby eh? What exactly it is they are not deprived of is not clear.
One thing they are certainly not deprived of is pubs, for a village with a population of just 5,669 (about the size of Millinocket) supports several "good quality" pubs, and no doubt a bunch of lower quality ones. Presumably amongst the better ones is the George and Dragon (you all remember St. George, right?) which I am told has been recently refurbished. Nice.
Holmes Chapel is of course situated at the junction of the A50 and the A54, which are roads that go somewhere else. At least one of them probably goes to the M6, which is also nearby. The M6 is, as you all know, the longest motorway in England, stretching some 226 miles all the way from Rugby (no really) to Carlisle, which is right next to the border with Scotland. Nicknamed the "Backbone of England", the M6 carries people and stuff from the heart of the country right to the edge of civilization, where they can transfer to horse and cart for travel on the mostly mud tracks that serve as Scottish highways. All this comes at a cost however, since the M6 was the country's first toll road, which was first imposed in 2003. It'll cost you roughly $6.50 to traverse the entire length, which is about the cost of one gallon of petrol (sorry, gas). So if that's too steep for you, you might want to take the "scenic" route and go through Holmes Chapel, and stop off at the George and Dragon for lunch.
Another nearby attraction is Swettenham Meadows, which is a swamp, otherwise known as a Nature Reserve. Covering over 21 acres, and full mostly of mucky flowers and bugs, a Nature Reserve is how posh people in England stop others from building houses near them. Just ask Baron Hewlett of Swettenham, who is described as a regular visitor of the "Meadows", and no doubt has a big house nearby.
Lastly Holmes Chapel is not without its famous (former) residents. Dean Ashton was a pupil at Holmes Chapel Comprehensive School, who went on to play football for Crewe Alexandra and Norwich City which are rubbish football teams in the English First Division. He recently moved to West Ham, who are in the Premiership, and took part in this year's epic FA Cup Final against Liverpool, which ended as a 3-3 draw, only to be decided in Liverpool's favor on penalties. Ashton plays along side Teddy Sheringham at the Hammers, who we all know served his best years with mighty, mighty Tottenham.
So, now that you know all about Holmes Chapel, come on out and make them feel welcome, and impress them with your knowledge of their tiny, non-deprived village. There will be a welcome reception tonight (Tuesday) at Gritty's at 6pm, and the game will be held at the Fairgrounds tomorrow, also with a 6pm kick off. After match festivities will be at Fore Play.
I'd like to extend a big welcome to Holmes Chapel, who are touring Maine (of all places) this week, and who we will be playing at the Fairgrounds this Wednesday night.
For those of you who never went to school (in England), Holmes Chapel is a village located in Cheshire, which is a county in North West England. Despite being located right next to the oft-reviled cities of Manchester and Liverpool, Cheshire is actually one of the wealthiest counties in the country, since all the rich people who make a living in those cities prefer to live there. Indeed, according to the Index of Deprivation (wtf? Only in England.), Holmes Chapel is the 18th least deprived ward (electoral district) in the country. Not to shabby eh? What exactly it is they are not deprived of is not clear.
One thing they are certainly not deprived of is pubs, for a village with a population of just 5,669 (about the size of Millinocket) supports several "good quality" pubs, and no doubt a bunch of lower quality ones. Presumably amongst the better ones is the George and Dragon (you all remember St. George, right?) which I am told has been recently refurbished. Nice.
Holmes Chapel is of course situated at the junction of the A50 and the A54, which are roads that go somewhere else. At least one of them probably goes to the M6, which is also nearby. The M6 is, as you all know, the longest motorway in England, stretching some 226 miles all the way from Rugby (no really) to Carlisle, which is right next to the border with Scotland. Nicknamed the "Backbone of England", the M6 carries people and stuff from the heart of the country right to the edge of civilization, where they can transfer to horse and cart for travel on the mostly mud tracks that serve as Scottish highways. All this comes at a cost however, since the M6 was the country's first toll road, which was first imposed in 2003. It'll cost you roughly $6.50 to traverse the entire length, which is about the cost of one gallon of petrol (sorry, gas). So if that's too steep for you, you might want to take the "scenic" route and go through Holmes Chapel, and stop off at the George and Dragon for lunch.
Another nearby attraction is Swettenham Meadows, which is a swamp, otherwise known as a Nature Reserve. Covering over 21 acres, and full mostly of mucky flowers and bugs, a Nature Reserve is how posh people in England stop others from building houses near them. Just ask Baron Hewlett of Swettenham, who is described as a regular visitor of the "Meadows", and no doubt has a big house nearby.
Lastly Holmes Chapel is not without its famous (former) residents. Dean Ashton was a pupil at Holmes Chapel Comprehensive School, who went on to play football for Crewe Alexandra and Norwich City which are rubbish football teams in the English First Division. He recently moved to West Ham, who are in the Premiership, and took part in this year's epic FA Cup Final against Liverpool, which ended as a 3-3 draw, only to be decided in Liverpool's favor on penalties. Ashton plays along side Teddy Sheringham at the Hammers, who we all know served his best years with mighty, mighty Tottenham.
So, now that you know all about Holmes Chapel, come on out and make them feel welcome, and impress them with your knowledge of their tiny, non-deprived village. There will be a welcome reception tonight (Tuesday) at Gritty's at 6pm, and the game will be held at the Fairgrounds tomorrow, also with a 6pm kick off. After match festivities will be at Fore Play.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
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.
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.
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!
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, May 12, 2006
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.
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.
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