Under 13's Lancs Cup Final Vs Waterloo

The day started with high hopes the weather was gorgeous (was this a sign ?), a cup campaign that began over 9 months ago was reaching its spectacular conclusion today, was today to be destined to be forever etched on young and old minds alike. All the preparation, the extra training, the drills and the plays were all for today. This was their moment.

We had a double-decker coach from the club to ferry the massed ranks of family and friends and well-wishers to Southport. Awaiting the bus, the nervous chatter in the car park was comparing how little angst-ridden sleep the Dads had got the night before. It was great to see so many new faces (or glory-hunters) coming along for the day’s entertainment as well as the stalwart hardcore of mums and dads that brave every week in all weathers. Aunties were wheeled out, grandparents were dug up, cousins forgiven and friends re-acquainted, under footmen, scullery maids, valets and gentlemen’s gentlemen were all given the whole day off from Ross Abbey Mansions.

The coach trip was quiet and nervy although very well appointed, on a sign writ large on the door of the on-board toilet was “FOR EMERGENCY USE ONLY”, what constitutes an emergency we mused ?

Finally there it was, Southport Rugby Club, we shuffled off the bus like ignorant cattle heading for the slaughterhouse. The pitch looked good, the weather was verging on the tropical , some were dressed for the sun, alas some were not, only the truly prophetic and wise dressed appropriately. We met up with those who had travelled independently (too tight to pay the tenner on the bus) who were as numerous as the bus waller's. What a great show of support for our boys.

We had a full hour before kick off, we eyed up the Waterloo players who were already warming up to a chorus of shouts and bellows. They looked good but only as good as our lads, they weren’t the demi-gods of myth and legend that we’d been led to believe, they were merely a group of 13 year old lads just as keen to win and make their parents and club proud.

Heaton Moor proudly took to the pitch to whoops and hollers resplendent in their new “cup final” commemorative t-shirts (now available on E-bay from 79p). They looked great, they trained and drilled efficiently. Who’d have thought that from such a bedraggled collection of ragtag, ill-disciplined street urchins that were the under 12’s, that such an impressive, cohesive team would be born. All credit to the lads and the coaches.

The crowd grew by the minute as the eagerly anticipated fixture grew ever closer. Sun tan lotion was liberally administered to bald pates and exposed bingo wings in equal measure. Man woman and granny all started eying up the best viewing spots against the rail, no quarter was asked or given, the pushing and barging that commenced as the Mighty Moor took to the field was reminiscent of the carnage of the opening day of the sales at Primark.

The lads walked on to cheers, screams and applause however they looked apprehensive, there’s and old coaching adage for big games and cup finals, “don’t let the occasion beat you” this along with all the other words of wisdom from coaches and parents was still ringing in their ears like tinnitus. They looked nervous, they were rubbing away sweaty palms, biting bottom lips and shuffling from one foot to the other, although they were all on the pitch together as a team they all looked like individuals , lost souls, like Christians thrown into the middle of the Collesium. They were waiting to see what was going to happen.

The whistle went and Waterloo started the game, Heaton Moor didn’t (They wouldn’t be starting for another 20 long minutes). Waterloo were quite a force, they ran hard and straight and tackled fiercely and efficiently, they scrummed, rucked and passed with precision and purpose. Our lads, some of them seemingly still on the bus, were bewildered and left clutching fresh air.

Waterloo ran in 3 unconverted tries through some great direct wing play and some poor Moor defence. This was what we’d feared, annihilation, whitewash, humiliation, disgrace, irreparable damage scarring the psyche of our young warriors. All we could hope for was to dare to dream of keeping the score down to merely double figures to try and maintain at least some dignity, should we throw in the towel and get the mums to run on the pitch, put their arms around their little lambs and rush them straight home, sobbing. This, thankfully is not what Heaton Moor U13’s are made of, we suddenly woke up and managed to stem the flow, wrestling a toe-hold in the game. We started playing like we know we can, fighting , scrapping, rucking, tackling and passing they way that got us through all those rounds to the final. If only we could get one try maybe, just maybe, who knows ? Seb had a great run that was just thwarted before he managed to touch down. Big Zak started to get a grip of the ball and made some great positive runs as did Amjad and Connor in more typical fashion. George, who had started at scrum-half, started appearing with the ball from the foot of a pile of bodies like the George of old. Our forwards started to stamp their authority and remind the Waterloo lads they were in a game. We started to make the right decisions at last. Finally we were off that bus and on the pitch. At last some continued pressure on the Waterloo line, that was driven back time and again by solid defence. Just as a first breakthrough try looked inevitable, disaster struck, Jacob Hinton went down and stayed down and was stretchered off and into an ambulance. Every mother’s nightmare ! It turns out that Jacob has no serious lasting damage which is great news as he’s been a real positive addition to the team this season. The injury and half-time came at the wrong time with the momentum having shifted in our favour as our belief and hope started to slowly grow.

15-0 down at half-time, not quite what we’d all dreamed of the night before, although all hope was not lost “If we could just get one try then who knows ? “. Our coaching team worked their magic during the interval, seeing to minor injuries, giving intimate neck rubs and pedicures but most importantly instilling belief.

We came out for the second half like Lancashire cup finalists with chests pumped out ready to play for the shirt. And play we did. Waterloo didn’t know what had hit them, who were this team? Are these the same team that were steam-rollered in the first half? The Moor played their hearts out and soon broke through with a great try from David, 15-5, now that’s a little more respectable. We now had the scent of blood in our nostrils. Knowing, hopeful glances were exchanged on the touchline. This was more like it. Come on lads. Some of the less rugby-savvy crowd asked “So what’s the score now?” for the thirteenth time. We were on a roll, the worm had turned. We started winning all the mini battles now that we were losing earlier. Josh came on for George, who’d had a great game, in a more orthordox scrum-half role. What went wrong in the first half started going right in the second. We kept on the pressure with every single Moor player fighting, harrying and now believing in themselves, putting their necks, heads, legs and balls in the way and on the line. The pressure was beginning to tell, we broke through for a second great try going through 5 or 6 sets of Moor hands, shifting left and right at pace, eventually being put down for a try by the ever intrepid Amjad. This was Roy of the Rovers stuff, the stuff of dreams . Connor slotted the conversion easily, 15-12. We were back in it! It was almost written in the script that now the momentum had shifted so much in our favour that it was surely inevitable that we would score next. There were some great line out work and well-worked penalties from Tank, Big Zac and Connor that were straight off the training ground. Waterloo were desperately hanging on to their slender lead unable to hold back the Heaton Moor tsunami of pressure. Eventually, on one of yet another Moor attacks, the egg went over in the corner, in front of the thronging mass of the Heaton Moor faithful. All hell broke loose, jubilation on the scale of a lottery win ensued, strangers hugged and kissed, grannies leapt ten-foot in the air, little bits of wee were expelled. Sweet goodness, we’d pegged them back, from the depths of despair and defeat we were ahead 17-15, who’d have believed it, the greatest comeback since Lazarus, since Liverpool in Istanbul, since The European Ryder cup team in Medina.
Only 6 minutes to hang on.

Sport is a cruel, nasty, wicked thing(which is partly its attraction) and often has a habit of biting you in the bum. It presents you with hope, expectation, and dreams and then cruelly and sadistically snatches it from your grasp.

With only minutes to go, we conceded possession and Waterloo broke clear to score, we so nearly caught them, we so nearly won !

From Elation to Deflation.

Seconds later the final whistle went. Our boys were crestfallen, beaten, hollow and deflated. It is very important to say how immensely proud all the parents and coaches are of our team, not just the 15 left on the pitch at the end but the whole squad who have all to a man played a vital role in this year’s Lancs Cup campaign. And what a ride they’ve given us, from those testy early rounds that were often ended short of time, that indicated we were progressing as a team, to the later rounds that were attritional that proved we could stand toe-to-toe with any team and compete. We have come so far in such a short space of time, breaking records along the way and shouting the name Heaton Moor from the rooftops, breaking new ground and making new friends. Some special credit and recognition should also go to our fantastic coaching team whose patience, imagination and dedication have transformed ordinary players into ever-so-slightly better ones.

Our lads took defeat and disappointment with class and dignity and that is to their eternal credit. They were gentlemen and although devastated were gracious and magnanimous in defeat, congratulating the Waterloo lads, shaking their hands manfully. Waterloo are a very good outfit and because of their first half performance probably deserved to win. They were strong in defence, direct and efficient in attack. It is also worth remembering that this was their third consecutive Lancs Cup final and the first that they’d won outright. Congratulations to them and thanks to Southport for hosting the final.

Maybe we’ll see you the same time next year but next year we won’t be handing out any headstarts.