WHY IS MY EARWAX BLACK?
Going to work this week, I took out my earbuds when I got to the Port Authority, and discovered they were not a golden brown, but a dull black. Vestiges of our swamp-fest 10 days earlier. The pitch was so sloppy that the mud got everywhere. I heard an anecdotal story of a South Jersey Shark player that had a colonoscopy scheduled for the week after our game. His doctor was initially concerned, as he thought he found a series of polyps. Upon closer inspection, it was only some misplaced Mays Landing Muck. Another veteran of this match was the Mayor. He was resplendent in his brownish-black shorts. Even though he assured us he had washed them since the mud-bath, he was unfortunately afflicted by explosive dysentery just prior to the match.
The forecast for the final Rugby Palooza of the Spring was ominous. All week the forecasters had been predicting rain. Now if there is one thing EVERYONE knows, Papi predicts that the forecast for Saturday will be perfect for rugby. Immediately after arriving in New Orleans, after his 3rd Hurricane and 2nd Beignet, he happened upon a voodoo shop on Bourbon Street. There in the window, in the lower right of the window, beneath the rubber mask of Donald Trump with the face of a naked female buttocks, was a voodoo doll of Al Roker. Using the swizzle sticks from his Hurricanes, he repeatedly inflicted little Al with bodily intrusions to heretofore unenvisioned bodily parts so as to have good weather for the final Palooza of the season. Al Roker’s pain was our gain. Although overcast, the wind was moderate and the rain held off.,
Adam Brennan wins my nomination for Man-of-the-Match. He negotiated us to play the 2nd game, thereby missing the Greys. Instead we would kick off against the Gentlemen of NY. In a well-played, even match, the Masters would emerge victorious by a score of 19-17. Long Island Ralph opened the scoring. Working in NYC his entire life, he knew how to use the home field to his advantage. Playing under the Tri-Borough Bridge, we are well accustomed to high up-and-unders ascending one side of the bridge, crossing over the traffic, and descending on the other side. Ralph decided to do something different. He kicked the ball up into the bridge as many others have, but he knew that with no EZ Pass transponder attached, the friendly Bridge and Tunnel authorities would immediately dispense with the free-loader. Their discarded ball landed back near the Grey’s 5 meter line. Ralphie would deftly scoop up the bouncing ovaloid and touch it down for the games first try. Famous Seamus would attempt to best him. While in the defending try zone, he would bounce a ball past the opposing fullback and with all the speed one can acquire since hurting himself on Mother’s Day Eve last year, he would sprint past everyone and touch down the bouncing ball a mere scintilla before the end of the try zone. With the promise of free Iron City to anyone that scores, Adam would score the deciding try off a nice pass from Pup. Danny Marain would convert 2 of the tries. This proved crucial, as the Gents got a late score as time expired. A successful conversion would give us a sister kisser, but the kick was wide. Morris wins and incest would have to wait for another day.
With our second match, we would play the house Village Lions. Both teams were tired, and the sloppy play reflected that. Scrum after scrum would bog down the pace of play. Long Island Ralph would score again, but it would not be enough. Morris would lose a close one, 12-5.
After the match, players gathered for the awarding of the Inaugural Rugby Tankard, awarded to the team the best represents the spirit of Olde Boys Rugby. Morris would finish 2nd to the Greys. (first we finish 2nd on the pitch, now we finish 2nd off the pitch).
With the rugby over and Al Roker having received enough harm, the raindrops would start to fall. On an overcast day, the sun had set on another rugby season. Teams from across the Tri-State area would retreat to lick their wounds and be ready for the Fall season. With the Triborough Bridge in the foreground and the Manhattan skyline in the background, it is only fitting that we close with the thoughts of the ultimate NYC troubadours- the Ramones.
20-20-24 hours from now
I’ll wanna be sedated
No rugby to watch, no games to play-ay
I’ll wanna be sedated
Just put me on a barstool, gimme Vit’min J
Hurry hurry hurry, before I go insane
No phlegm to hack up coughin’, guess I have to go golfin’
Oh NO Oh Oh Oh Oh
Ba Ba Baba, Baba ba baba, I’ll wanna be sedated.