Defeat a bitter pill to swallow as OC's lose to Bec Old Boys

The ability to be a magnanimous winner or a generous loser has been drummed into the vast majority of us from a very young age. No matter how high the stakes are, the noble art of praising your victors (Sir Alex Ferguson, FA Cup Final 2005), or acting with restraint and compassion in victory (the USA Ryder Cup team at the Battle of Brookline 1999) has been illustrated throughout the centuries. However, there are occasions when even such peace-merchants as Jesus, Gandhi or the Reverend Peter Dill would struggle to turn the other cheek. Losing is never nice (unless you are a four-eyed builder from Cheltenham called Eddie who fancies himself as a bit of a ski jumper), but when you get beaten by a bunch of muppets, the world can seem an unforgiving and bleak place.

On Saturday, the omens were not good. The pitch made the previous week’s one look as flat as Kate Moss’ chest, and up until 10 minutes before kick off, only thirteen had reported for Surrey Combination duty up as Paul Kellett and his 2 protégés (one of whom had only played once before) had gone M.I.A.. Similarly to the previous week, the opposition appeared to have a squad of 22 so it was obvious that a combination of a threadbare squad, the late summer sunshine and a slope requiring crampons would test the fitness of the OCs to the limit. When Paul did turn up, he was ‘rewarded’ with a berth in the 2nd row.

Playing downhill in the first half, it was imperative that the OCs racked up a healthy lead to protect in the 2nd half. Once again, Euan and Matt Mann made quality breaks through the opposition ranks, but frantic defence kept the OC hordes out. It was pretty obvious the type of opposition we were up against as their scrum half, fresh from a night of stealing cars, decided to trip Josh within 3minutes of kick-off. The lumbering Wagon was running back to help with a kick Pikey Boy had put into our 22 when he was tripped in full sight of the ref. Why he felt the need to 'slow down' Josh rather than one of the quicker forwards/backs is not clear, but a penalty to OCs ensued. Despite playing the majority of the game in the Bec half, the OCs had little to show for their honest toil, until cometh the hour, cometh the Mann. From a Bec 5-meter scrum on their own line, the aforementioned scrum half dummied to his fly half on his line and went to go blind and chip it over. Rich used his ample gut as a catcher’s mitt - it was kicked into his tummy and he fell over the line. Two tries in two games, could he be the new Mr T? 5-0 to the OCs.

With the backs looking dangerous, the onus was on the forwards to provide quality ball from both the set piece and open play. However, in the face of some powerful Argentinian-type scrummaging, the OC scrum creaked like Guvnor Hardyman’s arthritic joints. Overheard afterwards were the opposition talking about their scrummaging practice paying off, so there lies the answer. With Paul added to the line out, lifting him was a pleasure as he leapt in the air like a salmon. Both he and Josh secured quality ball, although the only minor criticism here is that when we were set, people lost the ball because the tidying up/protecting the fringes wasn’t quite tip-top.

Throughout the 1st half, the opposition’s constant killing the ball left a number of OC's increasingly frustrated. In the 2nd half, they eventually conceded a yellow card - their offender stating to some of the crowd on the sidelines that while he was quite sure he should have been yellow carded at some point in the game at any number of earlier infringements, the referee had got it wrong on this occasion. Mention should indeed go to the referee for his amazing knowledge of the RFU rulebook and yet his uncanny inability to apply any of these rules to the pitch.

With a further penalty added on the stroke of half time, the OCs went into the break with an eight-point lead. Would this be enough, especially with Euan having to leave the field with a leg injury after yet another searing break? Chris cheerfully replaced him, having only ever played one game of rugby in his life before.

As expected, the 2nd half was spent with the opposition camped in the OC 22. In the face of a ferocious onslaught, the OCs were soon to leak a converted try to leave the scores tantalisingly at 8-7. Heads did not go down, and there was renewed girding of loins as the opposition, led by a ginger pillock with a face his mother has previously admitted to being unable to love, ran back pointing at us and shouting how they were going to beat the losers. Classy stuff.

The game threatened to generate into further anarchy as Barnsey, playing his first game of rugby for nine years, was strong-armed into touch. Rather than lose his rag, like a rodeo star he got straight back onto his horse, running another high ball back straight into the forward showing good bottle. Ronan was also taken out by an Ultimate Warrior-type clothesline that seemed to do the perpetrator more harm than the victim.

The next 5 minutes decided the fate of the match. Firstly, a speculative punt down the line caused confusion between Barnsie and Phil, who kindly left the wickedly bouncing ball to each other, but instead leaving it to their winger who picked up and strolled over. With the opposition finally down to 14 men after persistent killing of the ball, it was do or die time for the OCs to save the game and get their season off to a winning start. And it looked like a Lazarus-style comeback was on the cards as Matt Mann set off towards the line from a ruck on the opposition 22. Alas, he and rest of the OCs had their party well and truly pooped as a shrill blast of the whistle and the flourishing of a yellow card to Greg Kris for a spot of sly tugging (story of his life I’ve been reliably informed). With the ball being returned with interest back into the OC half, heads dropped quicker than a cricket ball from Kevin Pietersen’s hands.

With the farce of uncontested scrums, like an irate drug dealer, the OCs finally ran out of puff and conceded too late tries, leaving the score a slightly distorted 26-8.

As ever, the team never gave up, and it was only after the 3rd Bec try with Greg off the pitch that the belief really disappeared. Much has been made of the lack of a concerted warm-up for the whole squad, but this only tells the part of the story. This was the second game of the season, and the fitness levels are still not there. There is a long season, and with more players coming back, the team will start to gel. The forwards are a match for anyone, and the backs all look dangerous in attack. However, it is important that the people do turn up on time and get their bodies and mind ready for the task in hand. A combination of focussed minds, combinations gelling and strong hearts will stand this team in good stead.

The Chausettes D’Or went to George Percy Thornhill for maintaining his rumbustuous form and a special award of the Chausettes Rose went to Paul Kellett for 25 caps fof yeoman service and not for being piss poor at time-keeping.

Lastly, congratulations to Bec Old Boys, worthy winners. 26-8 is a bit of a caning, although up until the last 10 minutes the game was still in the balance. Hopefully we will meet you later in the season – we look forward to that.

Tolstoy