Worcester (U12) vs Dudley Kingswinford (U12) mixed teams game 1
SPOILER ALERT! The Woozy Boys take at close encounter at the death
As the Duds wandered through the hallowed gates of Stade Worcee the press pack frantically ticked off players, desperately confirming identification of the squad beneath their bobble hats, unnecessary sunglasses and Beats headphones. Rumours circulated, whispers of an MIA, and then the Scarth marched off the bus, 80's stereo mounted on his shoulder playing the customary House of Pain, bling swinging round his solid neck.
"Quick word Simon, any news on Gordy?"
"He's not here, alright, he's not..." as he choked down the end of the sentence, he switched over to cassette B, pumping out some sorrowful and delicate Elliot Smith ("How could someone so talented die so young" - Rick Sanchez), and sloped off to the away changing room, leaving a delicate press pack fighting back the tears.
BREAKING NEWS.....OH LORDY, NO GORDY, HAS HE GONE ABROADY?
Following the closely fought away fixture this promised to be tight, and as the game kicked off the nerves were on show, with pressure at boiling point and handling errors a plenty, the run of scrums at least providing some respite for the heavily breathing forwards. Dirtbag in the middle of the front row turned this to his advantage, and won a couple of scrums against the head, but the ball continued to change hands as the teams traded blows. Then the breakthrough, Worcester secured god ruck ball, and seeing a gap Riley picked and went down the side straying well over the gain line, slightly isolated the ball was pulled lose by the Doodoos only for the lose ball to be recovered by a diving Denso, popped it up to Tuckshop who hit the line. BOOM!
The D-Kings restarted and recovered and quickly shifted wide only for Josh to provide an essential tackle on the wing to drive a Kingswinifordionian out, much to the delight of the DK faithful, the highlight of every match being a pile of lads crashing at their feet "Push 'im aut..!"
Fozzie drove hard, gradually ramping up the intensity, well backed up by George Riley George. Another knock-on, another Dirtbag win against the head, promptly followed by a Dudders turnover and clearance kick, fielded deftly by Josh, only to get driven into touch. "Push him auuuttt!"
Neither side could maintain possession, the difficult conditions of a perfect playing surface, no rain, no wind, a new ball and lovely autumnal sunshine taking its toll. It looked like it would stay at one, but as half time approached the Mighty W-Orks got far enough up the pitch to give George Riley a sniff, and sniff he did, filling his nasal cavities with the warm stench of try. With a hint of cinnamon.
2-0 at the break, and the boys in blue should have stayed in control, but how boring would that be? Nice Guy Eddie caught and carried well, but support wasn't their quick enough, and again the ball changed sides like a game of ping pong, with regular turn overs from ruck, maul, knock on and being forced int too touch. "Push 'im auuuttt...!"
On the opposition 22 Fozzie carried hard and straight, and as he was slowed with rope and anchors he looked round desperately for support, but none came, the ball was lost, and from nowhere the men of Scarth rounded the forward and left the backs behind to dot over.
With tails up the D-Knockers started knocking, James Breakstuff covering on the wing "Push him auuuttt..!" and Denso putting in his usual shift in the middle. Mr T tried to clear the lines with a good kick down field, but the pressure came straight back on. Ball dropped over the try line meant a DK try disallowed, but with the Woo still under the cosh eventually the relentless waves of attack resulted in the second DK try.
With the clock counting down the Woo woke up, and strong carries by Olly, Luther and Kidney Bean saw Worcester drive up the pitch through the phases, with purpose. Another drive by the Maggot saw an offload to Noah, who powered forward, looked to have been held up, but with a final surge was dragged to ground as he reached, reached bit more, stretched, and, YES! It's there! Go Noah!
The whistle blew, and the players shook hands. A fair result, but then so would have been any other result. One for the lovers of scrums, and people being pushed into touch. "Push 'im AUUTT!"
And to this day, the ghost of Gordy still haunts the pitch, and when the starlings join in murmuration, and the moon is full and high, you can still here a lone Black Country tenor whispering on the breeze....
"PUSH 'IM AAUUUUUUUTTTTTT....!"