Drop it like its Hot!
So to the beginning where it all began and where we shall start our little story. Today was a biggy. Imperial Medicals away. Coach trip. 14 victories on the bounce. “Wench! Where’s by kitbag? I’ve got rugby to play….”
The Dr scooted round to my comfortable E11 residence, a “toot-toot” signaled his arrival, Dwightrider was riding shotgun so I made my way to the back seat. We headed off down Wanstead High Street, ironically following last weeks discussions listening to Take That. A few clapped hands and harmonies showed that the rough exteriors possessed by these members of the Woodford back line belied their sensitive more musical characters. Chicks dig stuff like that.
We arrived to find the coach had shrunk in the wash and was more of a deluded mini bus. I am not one to complain so cheerily loaded my kit bag and whistled my way to my favourite seat. (One up from the backrow, it says cool but not hardnut)
Following a route probably written on the back of a fag box we made our way to Teddington via every major high street and traffic hotspot in London. We arrived late. The “Imps” as they will now be known graciously allowed us to delay the kickoff thus allowing us to skip till our hearts content come warm up time.
The first thing we noticed was how nice the pitch was. (well not strictly true, I noticed a couple of hot female doctor types hanging around. Probably after that rough/soft woodford backline we spoke about at the start the programme.) But needless to say the pitch was smoother than Eacot’s newly shaved chest and flatter than Kate Moss. Today surely, was a day for Spanghero rugby?!
The warm up was as you’d expect, professional and efficient. With Baden Clegg away on Olympic duties Pete Christie and a nostalgically dressed Jim “C’man!” Cruddace lead the proceedings.
We headed back to the large and very comfortable changing rooms for some cuddles and aggressive talking. We spoke about “smashing this!” and “Crushing that!” and all other manner of inspirational hyperbole. We were ready.
And so to the rugby:
Kick off, blah blah blah.
Two minutes of breathless rugby by the visitors lead to a ruck on the left side quick ball and a good call from Dwighty allowed Roy Keane to find the Wildman hitting the line at pace who in turn smartly off loaded to Eacot allowing the big centre to canter over under the posts and then somehow not convert his own try.
A classic catch and drive saw Joe Green crash over for the first of a hatrick of tries and by now Woodford were looking hot to trot.
Within minutes Woodford were back on the Imps 22. for all their endeavour a few “Red Zone” opportunities had gone missing so when the Wildman stroked over a drop goal, albeit via their second rows scrum hat, you’d think some credit would head his way? Not a bit of it…..Philistines! I may sound bitter but that’s only cause I am. (ed –At this point the report writer was heard to mumble profanities under his guinness laden breath)
The onslaught continued and a well worked line out move led to the best Greek/Cypriot prop in London 3 North West running straight at the Imps flyhalf.
Quick ruck ball and a superb line for Smokin’ Joe Green saw the flanker plough over for a well taken score.
Eacot stroked over a penalty and Woodford went in at half time feeling confident, although the Imps reminded everyone that it was not over yet with a good try following a superb break from their lively 12.
It was not all good news for Woodford though as Roy Keane was taken from the field to nearby Holby City (probably) with a serious looking elbow injury. Peter Hyett moved to fullback and Matt Barrett moved to scrum half to accommodate the lose of the increasingly influential kiwi.
Half time cuddles, chats, H20, subs –Sean Knellors swollen ankle ending a promising day out for the big man but allowing the Vice captain Jamie Phillipson QC to return to the fray after a horrible run of injuries. Its that strength in depth that has lead to our good form of late.
The second half started much like the first –A kick off. This is fairly standard so lets not get excited.
Like a young indie sensation with a cracking debut album (“Blinding! 4*” -Paul Ross, the Sun) Woodford suffered the second album syndrome and never really managed to catch light. The most notable moments being a great try for the returning “Who Levis” following a delicate grubber from Dwighty. (Anyone who’s seen Dwighty near women recently will be happy to see that contrary to recent evidence he hasn’t lost that gentle touch.)
Also Joe Green scored his hatrick, and this seasons 453rd try from catch and drive to catapult him above Dr Bevan in the try scoring stakes. Levis went on to show how drop goals should be scored as he dinked one in from outside the 22. His may have been sweeter but Wildman’s was more akin to Jonny Wilkinson in terms of pressure.(Ed -Let it go!)
Amongst the try scoring and such like a sustained period of “Imps” attack was thwarted by a defensive performance from 1-15 described by Rob Wynne-at-all-costs as the best he’s ever seen. It was certainly better than his defense in the kangaroo court (more about that later)
So we won - 38-12, in the end a good game, we neutralized their quick backs (and ours) with strong forward play and avoided another metaphorical banana skin, Job done!!
A few quite horrible lagers later and I was as happy as anyone to see Roy (James) Keane, the kiwi answer to Michael J Fox, stroll in. His tiny arm in a sling but his spirit not dampened. The prognosis was good so he should be back before you know it.
Bloody hell this is a long V.F.T.C.R…..
Coach journey songs were decent, my bottle of Semillon Chardonnay left a bit to be desired but certainly did its job as I arrived at Woodford positively drunk. Still slightly smarting from the drop goal debacle.
Our captain Robert Wynne-at-all-costs was summoned to Kangaroo Court for a list of heinous crimes, including wearing a belt fashioned out of an unraveled coat hanger. With Roswell as chief prosecutor your never gonna get out alive and so it proved. More dirty pints for our able leader and chuckles all-round.
About "something O/Clock" I decided it best I went home I was due to be an uncle tomorrow and I didn’t want my new Nephew/Niece thinking I was a boozehound (Who was I kidding) I left by the secret trapdoor and went home before I could do any serious damage.
There’s always next week…..
