Match Report

This was a day no mortal Phoon could miss, this was the last battle. Already we had faced the Saxon army at Stamford bridge, alone swinging a battle axe awaiting the jabbing spear to the groin. The Persians were met at the battle of Hot Gates with the cream of the Spartan army, but let us not forget that brave and berserk as these battles were, they were just that battles and there was one more before the war could be won. Besides history tells us that these brave souls lost on the day and we were not here to lose. So let us move forward to Culloden and the clans last charge. They came up very boldly and fast all in a cloud together, sword in hand. They fired their guns and flung them away.... They thought that it was such a bad day with rain... that our firelocks would not fire.... but we kept them dry with our coat laps... not one in our regiment missed firing... we also had two or three cannon that fired grape-shot... this upset them very much. We had to upset Valley very much, this was to be our day.

The turn out in support was a sight to see, players determined with war faces, Phoons who arrived for this one game, this one chance to win. The playful side of the Berserka was left in the changing room, the Spartans fluffy cat was put down and magazines with the oiled men were left at home hidden in the closet. Typhoons were going to war. Randy had escaped from his maximum security twilight home. Gareth usually spends his weekdays covered in camomile lotion, he abstained to be the itch you could not scratch. Potato had been making plans, so secret, he was wearing oven gloves so the deaf couldn’t eaves drop. There was only one word to describe us, Awesome or as Beevers said in his posh accent… H’awesome. Andy Paterson had his flag at half mast all week at the allotment, ready to cause death. Guy has two bad habits, smoking and mastuerbating. He tried to give up as a twenty a day man and smokes like a chimney as well. But today his fist was to be used in a different way. It would not be fair to leave out the French in proceedings, they are usually so far in the closet they live in Narnia, but today they were out with pouts of fury. You could loose an eye with the scratching and hair pulling they had in mind.

But first… Of all the modern phenomena, the most monstrous and ominous, the most manifestly rotting with disease, the most grimly prophetic of destruction, the most clearly and unmistakably inspired by evil spirits, the most instantly and awfully over shadowed by the wrath of heaven, the most near to madness and moral chaos, the most vivid with deviltry and despair, is the practice of having to listen to a loud Frenchman while eating ones lunch at a restaurant…. Aye..that’s better we can get on with the game.

Valley came onto the field with fireworks, a rock band, cheerleaders, lasers and cheers. Typhoons came on with “come on you homos”. The traditional battle cry, the only three words that matter on a rugby field. Four words. There are only two rules for success, the first is to keep the secret of success to yourself… We were off, the passing was good, fewer balls were dropped, high balls were caught and we look good in attack. The monster hit’s for previous weeks began to make an appearance and after a few minutes finding our feet we were the better side. The scrums were holding and line outs looked in reasonable shape. 25 minutes in and first to break the deadlock was Grant, bingo arms flapping like a Kimono he went over for the first try. The build up and passing were great, but he put down wide and Jason was unable to make the conversion. We expected Valley to come back strong, but after another great bit of stealing and ball through the hands Guy was next over at 28 minutes. This is the man who invented missionary impossible during one of his Yoga sessions with a goat. Jason was able to clonk this one over. The game was close and we went into the half time break tired, but in good heart. 12 points ahead.

The Berserka fluffy cat was kicked for touch, more of the same, hold the line and fight. We were ready for the second half, Typhoons expects.

The early part of the second half was scary, some changes at Valley and we had let in a try within 3 minutes. Brave battling, but with the foot off the gas a second try went over, this time converted. We were even. It is probably time to disclose some club history to the newer players. When Nico was young he had a terrible accident in a 3 legged race, breaking his leg with a compound fracture of the ankle and fibula. His entire leg went gangrenous and he had the leg amputated. Luckily he had two legs remaining. This is the explanation why he as an enormous ass with an extra buttock. Back to the action. Half way through the half and we had some tired bodies. We made some minimal switches to keep formation, but players were starting to carry limps and bumps. Jay was unhappy with his rugby boots, preferring his Dr Scholl sneakers, but his ankle was still unable to hold out. Valley managed to get in another try and conversion all by the 20 minute mark of round two. Only 15 minutes to go, we gave away a penalty in front of the posts and they missed. More tired bodies and another penalty, this time their former Hong Kong player managed to get it over. But we weren’t bitter, just 10 points behind and only 7 minutes to play. Would this be our finest hour?

From kick off Valley were pushed back into their half. Under pressure they gave away a penalty just outside the 22. The choice was to run it or take the kick. We went for the kick, Jason, no pressure, clonked it over. We needed another score. With shouts of “stop the clock” which seemed to echo for several hours we readied to receive. A last effort, a final push, we drove Valley back again into their 22. Then it happened, call it grit, spunk, pluck or just plucky gritty spunk; Paterson who has been keeping fit in a northern gym, which is largely lowering coffins out of first floor windows, intercepts and runs in a try under the posts. There was much celebration, but the fat lady hadn’t started to sing. No pressure again and Jason was up to take the kick. It went over and we had even points. Don't believe me just look at the photo's. Alas there was 15 seconds to go and Valley kicked off to us again. Seconds ticking and the call was to kick for touch. Constant missed and Valley ran it back, only to get out wide and decide to kick, for touch…? The whistle went. Constant had obviously played for this.

The effort was superb, people were playing out of their skins with a lot of effort and skill not seen all season. Even when we went behind there was still the spark to come back. There are many people not mentioned, but everyone put in 100%. I saw a grown man cry. I said it would be our little secret and from that moment to this I swore I'd never tell anyone, Jason Orange is a raving hom0. A big thanks to the spectators getting behind typhoons and the players raising their game on the occasion.

So we were into extra time. Now carrying plenty of war wounded and looking tired, it was now a matter of who wanted the win the most. Having not had to write a third chapter on a match report it is probably worth asking a few questions that have confused and confounded civilised man. Is France a country too good for the French? Would America be a better place without the Americans and would the world be a different place if sp€rm tasted like chocolate? Anyone complaining about dying would do well to remember that life is tough. Statistics show two out three people die. Oxygen, water, massage stomach pumps, artificial limbs we could be rebuilt.

The last 20 minutes were nail biting and some great rugby. Like two punched out heavy weights the games swung either way. Let off’s and mistakes both ends, on the ropes, almost getting the knock out blow. There was no score, the last seconds ticked away, an attack and ruck, the ball is passed to Johnny Coles, the seconds tick away. The last 5 seconds.... the ball is struck and it’s over. (see shot by shot PDF).  If there was a roof it would have come off. Josef Stalin said “gaiety is the most outstanding feature of the soviet union.” But we were gayer in that moment. There was much celebration, a pitch invasion and carriage of Johnny, dear Johnny on the shoulders of lions. It was around this time Tim managed to get the final upper cut in before running to the throng of cheering Phoons.

With cheesey grins, sprayed with beer and champagne, there would be much celebration and celebration there was.

Final score: Typhoons 25 – Valley 22

Grand final winners. Division 4B.

Post script: The Jacobite prisoners who faced lesser charges of wishing the Jacobites well, or being witnessed to drink to the health of Bonnie Prince Charlie. For these "crimes" they were deported to the colonies. Luxury, it was too good for them. Those were the days. A toast to the colonies and Bonnie Prince Charlie, even if he was an Italian and supported by the French. Salut.

PPS: Potato senior broke his toe and Beevers slept in a car park after missing the ferry. Grant expressed his disappointment however that at 9 am on Monday morning there was no-one still out celebrating the victory.

C