LIONS WIN 2!!!
Well, it was the Village Lions and not the Morris Lions, but why quibble over details. For the 2.5 times out of 3, Papi was correct. With the great Oyster Bay to our right, Long Island Sound to our left, we would kick off on a sun splattered field nestled onto a narrow spit of land along Long Island’s North Shore. No humidity, temperature in the low 60’s, a gentle breeze blowing in off of the bay. . . at low tide, so it smelled like a sewage treatment plant . . . but hey nothing is perfect.
We started the game somewhat undermanned. Our backline had suffered some attrition since our last game. The most notable was the loss of Don Slade, who suffered a broken nose (and ego) at the last Palooza in Denville. Although he got it courtesy of the Mayor attempting to clean up the ruck, there is a back story that few people know.
1. Don’s schnozz is large, no secret there, so although Don was onside at the ruck, on this particular bloody play, his nose was actually offside.
2. Don has been travelling the world to assist with the Avon split. As such, he has done a lot of international travel. As we all know, airline air is very dry and dries out the sinuses. To forestall the nosebleeds associated with this condition, he coerced his Hong Kong factory to produce an extra run of Skin’so’soft. Not only did he keep this proboscis patina as smooth as a baby’s behind on the outside, he also made sure to keep his sinuses well lubricated on the inside. (in addition to a smooth, pliant nose, it also kept all the bugs away!)
Thus when the Mayor hit the ruck and nudged Mr. Slade’s schnozz, it easily bent all the way back to his ear, which caused his capillaries to burst like a nasal hemorrhoid. As we played, he self-medicated himself with Preparation J, dreaming of Northampton’s revenge against Munster. But enough disparagement of Don, on to today’s match. . .
We would show up with a mostly intact side (again) and were rewarded with the opportunity to play the Greys (again) and would promptly lose (again). Still, things were not as bleak as last month. After giving up an early try, we would battle the Greys tightly until they broke through for 2 late tries at the end.
The Morris on Morris carnage would continue. Aussie Mick would hit the ruck with all the force his 120 lb frame could muster. Unfortunately for Tom Feury, let loose on work release to visit the country of Long Island, that mustering was enough to open up an ugly gash under his left eye. Luckily Big Al was there. With no jambalaya to cook today, he would put his combat medic training to good use to stitch ‘im up. The bleeding was stopped, but the prospective modelling career was over. OK, he never had a modeling career to begin with, but he already feels bad for missing the second game, so let’s keep this on the Q-T and SSSSHHHHH, not tell him!!
For out second game, we would join forces with the Gents exiles and the host Ducks to battle the Village Lions. Goose had shed his winter fur and darting about the pitch for the Villagers, leaving little piles of goose turds with every cut. In a hard fought match, the V Lions would beat the M Lions.
Some notable achievements were made today. Mitch (Fat Freddy Fly-half) Miller was sprinting about with speed and alacrity heretofore unknown to this intrepid reporter. We also welcomed 2 new players to the Morris tribe. David Scott would fly in from Hong Kong just to get on the pitch with Morris. Vin McCreary would bust his rugby cherry with Morris. Welcome David and Vin! We look forward to many more opportunities to see you on the pitch with the Morris colours.
Rest up, as in an abbreviated recovery session, we play again in Atlantic City next week. For those of you that don’t want to gamble on whether AC will declare municipal bankruptcy or not, our last Palooza of the game will be on Randall’s Island in 3 weeks.
In closing, as we played in the home of the great Billy Joel, it would seem appropriate to end with the chorus of the song that put him (and Oyster Bay) on the map:
Sing us a song, you’re the rugby man
Sing us a song tonight
We all communed on the rugby pitch
And everything’s feeling alright.
Ralph Scoville email@example.com