By Ralph Scoville

Seinfeld was famous for being a show about… Nothing. Which is where we are on this match day, with me writing a game report about… Nothing.

Our season opened on Long Island in early April, where the Junior Reporter did a splendiferous job of reporting on the non-action. He even accounted for all the slack variables that make a rugby match so unpredictable. It continues today, with Morris hosting on our alternate pitch at Drew University.

The day began as gray, wet and cold. Really only 2 good things could be said about it: at least it was not windy AND it was a perfect day for rugby!

Originally there was some question as to whether Drew would let us host the game on the Charlie Havea Field. They had pitched a tent in the try zone nearest the parking lot, so as to host the reception for a retirement party. As I drove up and saw the goal post set up under the sprawling white tent, it looked like a giant pimple with an erection. Kinda reminiscent of the incoming freshmen men who will grace the hallowed halls in the Fall.

We assured the University that this tent would not be a problem, as after all, we are Masters. It is not as if any of us reach the try zone that often anyways, and if we do, it is usually on a breakaway, so the runner has plenty of time to dodge the posts. (Of course, once the game started, one unfortunate runner did just that and rammed the posts. But he was a back, so ‘nuf said.)

Despite the protestations of the Mayor, this was labeled a Morris home game and the Morris alumni would come out in full force. We had enough players for 2 full sides, which permitted us to use our legs and lungs to their fullest whilst we were on the pitch.

The Village Lions, Bayonne, Long Island, and the Greys would combine forces and a match was held on the plush turf. As to the play itself, you know the drill. There would be a few brilliant passes, followed by a knock-on. There would be tackles, but the ball would be turned over because no one was there to support the ruck. There would be innumerable scrum-downs that the Sir would call for due to even the most modest of infractions.

But through all that, we endeavored to persevere and eventually won the match. Aside from my kicking and nailing most of the conversions (it’s my dream and my keyboard, I will remember it my way), there were several moments that stood out.

Now normally a collapsed scrum is nothing to laugh about, but this was an exception. As we came together in the 2nd stanza, Nico brought us tumbling down. Not because of the push from the other side, no, he merely stepped on his goatee and tripped himself.

The game was a back and forth affair, with wings on both sides bedazzling everyone with speed we had thought was long gone, but the game came down to the final play. Greg Markowitz, making his Masters debut, scored on a try that will go down in Morris lore forever.

Coming off a motley penalty at the 22M line, Greg would pick up the ball and barrel to the endzone like a stag in rut. Instead of merely touching it down, he decided this moment needed an exclamation point. With the ball tucked close to his side with one hand, he sprinted to the nearest tent post and grabbed it with the other hand. Using the post as a slingshot, he flung himself up into the air, over the crossbar, and down onto the forgiving emerald sod. If this was a harbinger of his Masters career, I can hardly wait for the sequel!

After the match, the social was held in traditional fashion. Stef would graciously donate a keg of Newcastle Brown from Heineken, Big Al would whip up his jambalaya, and the craic would be flowing. Some things, thankfully, never change.

In 2 weeks, we get to dream this all up again!

Posted in Masters