By Ralph Scoville

For some sports, the early AM start and brisk, humid conditions would preclude ever leaving the clubhouse.  As we were at a pitch with nary a clubhouse and only some hemorrhoid inducing aluminum stands, staying inside was not an option.  Luckily, it was a day perfect for rugby, or as the Welsh would call it….. Summer.

Tired of having our bodies torn by the sandy artificial turf on Randall’s Island, the host Gentlemen of NY found a nearby pitch in East Rockaway.  For those of you not familiar with the area, let me offer you a brief NY tutorial.  Far Rockaway is part of NYC and is located on Sheepshead Bay.  East Rockaway is farther away from NYC, is part of Nassau County and is located on Sheepsbutt Bay.

Sheepsbutt Bay would actually be a good reference.  Several athletic fields are bounded by the Bay and an inlet on 2 sides and by a sewage treatment plant on a 3rd.  During Superstorm Sandy, all this effluent overflowed into the Bay and the surrounding neighborhood.  A cement retaining wall was thus built to protect the fair people of NY from ever again coming into contact with reality.  On a serious note, it was quite sobering to stand on the pitch and as I looked around, tried to visualize myself standing in a storm surge that had covered the area in 5’ of water.  Only my head would be above water …… and other objects.

At the conclusion of last weeks match, Ryan had an epiphany.  The bottom of a ruck in North America smells just as bad as the bottom of a ruck in South Africa.  One could argue that it actually smells worse here, as he was used to fields of lush kikuyu. Here?  If you are lucky to not play on a carpet underlaid with ground up diesel truck tires, then you most likely playing on a pitch blanketed with goose guano.  To paraphrase William Shakespeare, I, the Bard of Denbrook, offer this:  A ruck by any other name wouldst smell as putrid.

OK.  I have delayed this long enough.  You are probably wondering at this point, where is the infernal match report?  How did we do?  In 2 words, we sucked.

The Gentlemen of NY would join with the Greys and the Village Lions, while we joined forces with our friends from Long Island. Each team had a full side with 2-3 subs and a game ensued.  With Henrik Kettner on the sidelines cheering us on, how could we lose?  It was competitive for about 5 minutes.  By then the Gents had scored their 2nd try of many on the day, and the rout was on.  For all the inspired play the prior week, we were equally as uninspired yesterday.  Numerous penalties, losing balls at the breakdown, it was a brutal sight to behold.

The only moment of inspirational play was provided by Andy.  As we lined up for another scrum, Patty O’Furniture of the Greys noticed that Andy had a white booger clinging to his mustache.  With a deftness of touch, in one motion Andy would swipe his mustache clean and deposit the lode on the back of the opposing prop as they entered into contact.

After an hour, we all had had enough and retreated to Bold O’Donoghue’s for rehydration and calories.  The beer was cold, the food was hot, and fellowshipping was rampant.

Many thanks to Gerry Fallon for joining us.  We have a week off, then we host our home match at our guest pitch – Drew University (the Harvard of NJ).  See you there.

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