Match Report - Weybridge
“WHAT’S THE FUCKING SCOOP ?...”
London Exiles Emperor’s XV v Weybridge Vandals Owls (who were just as ugly as Barnes)!
“Theakston! This is the fifth time you have been late this week!!” boomed a voice across the office, ‘Gosh’ thought Theaks, ‘that means it’s Friday’!! ‘Marvellous, it’s going to be a better day than I expected! What a shame Commando Thursday is always over so quickly..’ he mused as he jauntily wandered across to his desk, winking at the newest Secretary, who blushed and quietly went moist.
Yes, dear reader, it was indeed Friday. And The Emperors had all wandered into work, with an extra-large satchel filled with rugby kit. For tonight, of all nights, there was gonna be a rugby match.
By midday in Clerkenwell, Handsome Jack was drumming his fingers on his desk. A hefty four and half days of hard labour had mentally taken its toll and Seaforth Lands’ answer to Mr Darcy needed lunch. The Coach in Farringdon was calling. “Anything for Desert gentlemen?”, came the smiling question some ninety minutes later, Jack considered momentarily, he was playing rugby later, but it was only for the Emperors and he had only had three pints, two bottles of red, half a buffalo and a pate starter. “Yes please, your very best, biggest and stickiest Sticky Toffee Pudding please and four Armagnacs”.. ‘we don't kick off for hours yet’ he smiled to himself.
Manufactured by Gents of Leicester and hanging high over the main concourse, Waterloo’s huge four-sided clock has been a popular meeting point for Londoners (especially those on a romantic rendezvous) since the early 1920s.
Although not mentioned directly, it is perhaps safe to assume that The Kinks had the clock in mind when writing their 1967 hit, Waterloo Sunset... which includes the lyric, “Terry meets Julie, Waterloo station every Friday night.”
Assuming Terry & Julie were say 22 and 24 respectively in 1967, the manky old couple, who stood next to us as we met at the train station and smelt of wee, need to get some imagination and find a new venue.
Edge was remarkably pleased with himself, he had picked up the shirts, brought along spare boots, brought practice balls and had got on the tube and arrived at Waterloo with 25 minutes to spare. Remarkable. He was joined by Theaks and Banners, both making their Emperor debuts, Pottsy, Tom P and then on the train, by a sobering Jack, AJ, Captain Tez, Criggster, Will, Rups, Josh, Liam, Mini. We were in numbers and on time.
The 18.02 from Platform 17 purred out of the station and bumbled its way through much of South West London’s dullest stations and chimney pots, finally arriving at Walton-on-Thames, where taxis took us to the island site that is the Vandals ground.
Friday floodlight games are clearly popular. The Vandals had a squad of 24 and we had a comfortable 18. Corndog marshalled the pack in warm up and the backs looked full of running. Game on.
The Vandals started well. They are big and fat, but started at pace and within five minutes The Emperors were behind their sticks. Early ball and strong running from their 10 & 12 meant the Vandals held the early advantage and were soon two scores up.
It was clear that the Pack weights were a touch uneven, I’d adjudge the Vandals maybe tipped 1,000 kilos and the Emperors around 750 kilos (Smarty has lost about 50 kilos alone)!! As a result,
scrummaging was rather hard work, despite the heroic efforts of particularly, Smarty, Pottsy and our other debutant Davy Jones, who was out of the locker and playing hooker.
So, I hear you ask, What IS the fucking Scoop?
The fucking Scoop, my friend, is when your scrum is going backwards so quickly, that the No8 has to make like a JCB digger with his arm and scoop the ball out from the legs of the front five at great peril to his hand, because as fast as the hooker hooks the ball, it gets no closer to the No8. Jack it must be said did a magnificent job and as the digger arm started to perfect its scoop action, so The Emperors started to get more set piece scrum ball.
At the same time, the Fattipuffs (vandals) started to puff a little and soon the Exile backs were starting to make some running, mini marshalling the ball at scrum half and Josh pushing the line up at standoff, and the backline full of fire through Banners at fullback and Liam, AJ, Tezza, Sam and..... Theaks?
Wait. Really? Yes, dear reader, the Ginger Reaper had added a 1 in front of his usual number and was to be found dashing through the line like Bambi having suddenly discovered Cocaine and finding it exceedingly exciting.
As the vandals started to blow harder and we ran faster, a modicum of niggle entered the fray, Banners virtually lost his shirt in one tackle, Mini was constantly angered by the interference, overstepping and hands in the ruck of the Vandals at the breakdown that was very effectively ruining clean ball, something the commentating referee failed to notice, probably because he was far too busy making comments like “Oh that's a beautiful tackle” and “what a fabulous passage of play”.
“Come on ref! Fucking hell!” Yelled an exasperated Mini with his hands gesturing to the nearby 747 that it was clear for take-off. “What? Do you wanna penalty mate?” said one of the fatter Fattipuffs as the ball eventually left the pile up, “No, I just want the fucking ball, you twat!” Genteelly explained Mini, leaving the Fattipuff looking slightly perplexed. Too many long words probably.
Nevertheless, after the strong start by the Oppo, the Emperors were now looking stronger and full of running and so it was that by midway through the first half, quick hands by Josh and Banners put AJ into space allowing him to break the line and go over to open our account. Within minutes, the Emperors were pressing once again and after a sublime interplay between backs and forwards, the play ended with the Criggster charging through to the line like a woolly mammoth, with a couple of Vandals desperately holding on. The big man strode and stretched and flopped the last few paces, finally levering a large crane like arm out to lunge the ball forward, with it stretching poor Criggie way beyond the limits of his usual Yoga class, and landed the ball millimetres (according to the commentator ref) from the try line. It was so close that in American Football it would have been a touchdown, but it was short of a try. “Oh come on ref! Surely that's momentum?” growled the Crigster in broad jock. Handily, Will, our charging No6, was on his shoulder to pick up and take the ball over the line. Try scored and shared! Well done lads.
The Emperors were roaring now, with tails up and hard tackles stopping the Vandals both close to the breakdown and in the line. Liam, Ready and Tom making short work of their potent 10 / 12 combination and Jack, Pauncy (we have too many Tom’s in this squad), Rups and Will, variously in our backrow, matching blubber with Exile steel and beef.
A majestically taken lineout catch by Corndog, leaping like a spring salmon, gave clean and fast set piece ball through Mini, Josh, Liam, Banners and Ready, out to the ever excitable Tezza, who found himself on the wing and steaming toward the Vandal 22. He glanced outside his left shoulder to see only spectators and nowhere near the normal fifteen yards of grass and two team mates
he’s used to. Panic!!!! ‘Fuck! Never read this page of the manual’ he thought, so he did what all centres do when on the wing, he looked at his opposite man, put his head down and ran straight at him!
Crash, Bang, Wallop! Thankfully, Ready was there to secure the ball (reminding us where he’d prefer to play – it’s his own fault for being a whippet!) and the ever reliable Mini was on hand to distribute. The ball went through quick hands and Tom, the bearded egg, screamed in behind the Vandals posts with one of his characteristic strong runs that the Vandals simply couldn’t stop, as he high stepped adeptly through tackles and we found ourselves with try no3.
The Vandals had had their moments as well in the first forty (most in the first fifteen mins) and the try count was three to two to us. Voila! Halftime.
Halftime chats are fun when you’re winning.
It was quickly evident that the Vandals had taken stock of the relative strengths of the two teams and thus the second half settled into something of a forward scrap to begin with. Contact was starting to take its toll, with Liam limping off with a bad knee and then to make matters worse Corndog took a bad twist to wreck his ankle.
The old man was forced into service. Thankfully the Oppo had a 73 year old prop, who put in ten minutes of scrummaging, so the old man felt in good company!
The Vandals then got a scrum midway between the Exile 10yard line and the 22. “Crouch.....Bind.....Set!” and then came the feed, and then came the shove!! The previously mentioned weight difference came to full force and the Emperor scrum started to reverse. And it continued to reverse. Then came the 22, under our feet, then the 5 yard markings, by which time most of the back five were wraggedly hanging off the valiant front row, who were now all that really stood between the Vandals and the Exile try line. It didn't take long. Inevitably, a few seconds later the Vandals’ No8 popped the ball as he collapsed on it. Try given, new balls please!
With twenty minutes to go it was frankly anyone’s game depending on how many knock-on’s the Emperors gave away. “Let’s keep the ball in hand lads” Captain Tez encouraged – ‘good idea’ thought all the forwards.
A neat line out win gave us the ball in our 22 and it floated out to Theaks, who was now so high on the excitement of being one of the girls, that he made a fatal error. He decided to kick. The sound was okay, that reassuring thud of boot on ball, but the result? Well, somewhat suboptimal. The ball banana’d violently to the left in an epic hook and went out behind him. Ooops, opposition attacking lineout.
Nevertheless, possession was regained and more strong running by Tom (with the fabulous beard) took us up field and into the Vandals half. A couple of quick passes and suddenly Pottsy found himself midfield and with the ball and no one in front of him. There was a moment of pause, everyone stopped. ‘He’s a prop’ everyone thought horror struck. Pottsy looked around in that split second, desperately searching for the team member to flip the ball to and then the realisation came, no open pass available! Run Forest Run! And he was off, those mighty thighs pumping like the match depended on it (which it kind of did), a weave, a bob, and almost a sidestep later Pottsy was finally tackled a goose shit short of the try line. Awesome run. Support piled in, defence was aggressive, “Oh, grrreeeaaatttt rugby lads!” shouted the commentator Ref, and the ball was recycled. Banners passed the ball above the heads of the waiting forwards (sensible) and Ready took the ball and charged in the left side of the Vandals try line. Great try, which was then neatly converted by Banners. Our nose was out in front again.
With around five to go, the Vandals 12, who was their stand out player, took a flat ball and weaved a fantastic run through our line to pop up a pass to their fifteen who ran in the try. Game annoyingly back on!
Shortly after, Handsome Jack was powering forward at pace, as he had done with a tireless work rate all evening, when there was a titanic clash of his head and a Fattipuffs, that reverberated around the field. Both sunk to the floor. “Time off lads, time off, head injury” The commentator looked decidedly excited. The Fattipuff was effectively out on his arse, while Jack was frowning slightly, and asking whether he could have a second helping of sticky toffee pudding.
“Erm, I think Jack needs to go off, irrespective of what he says..!” came the fatherly voice of Tezza, and so Jack trudged off with a manly gash on his eyebrow, leaving Pauncy, Will and Rups to look at each other and wait anxiously for one of them to break the silence and offer to play No8. Well done Will.
In the final minutes, with the Vandals blowing heavily (so were we!), another powerful run by the Beard, launched him through a now tired Vandals defence for his second try, a well earned brace. The conversion finished the job and with a few more seconds ticking from the clock, the final whistle was blown, “great game lads, great game, what a finish!” boomed the commentator Ref.
Some hobbled, some limped, some staggered, but all smiled as we wandered to the showers. Job done.
Final score Emperors 31 – 24 Vandals.
Happiness is a simple recipe. Win a game of Rugby, don your blazer and tie, drink pints of beer quickly in succession and all talk at the same time about how great we are and wonderful the performance was.
Prize for best bar comment goes to Mini, who admitted “I’m a heavy midget !!” – You heard it here first chaps.
Handsome Jack and Theaks smashed the downing pints as MOTM and DOTD (see below) and as usual, we were the last out of the Bar and enjoyed a banter filled and happy train journey back to civilisation. What a cracking Friday !
Next Match is quite soon, so please make yourself available and respond to Tezza sharpish when he asks. We are building a great squad and having a barrel of laughs (which is what it’s all about). Liam (knee) and Corndog (ankle), heal quickly, we need you both. If not see you on the sideline!
Laters.
Tries: AJ, Tom (2), Criggie/Will, Ready. Conv: Banners (3).
MOTM: Handsome Jack / Sawbs / Mr Darcy – For being big, strong and combative, and as ever a fabulous Exile.
DOTD: Theaks for ‘that’ kick (which he gayly admitted was a real ‘no no’ for an ex-forward. ...........Ex-forward ?
Team (full names): Tezza, Corndog, Pauncy, DJ, Smarty, Pottsy, Liam, Banners, Beardy Tom, Yellow Socks Josh, Rups, Sawbs, Will, Mini, Theaks, Criggie, Ready the Younger, Edge.