Sat 23 Nov 2019
23rd November
Gloomy skies and dead eyes welcomed the Chocolate Soldiers on a crisp Autumn Saturday to Lodge Lane, somewhere in the backwater of Enfield. Greasy with ball in hand, mudflats under foot, it promised a tricky assignment for our young troupe.
Pre-match, Garbett, Obree and the two Abraham boys had done a deep dive on the saccharine canon of Richard Curtis, Garbs going as far as to offer his favourite film of all time. This could possibly offer an explanation to the underwhelming warm up, while accurate it possibly lacked some energy of weeks gone by.
An overly familiar referee ushered the teams onto the pitch, his pre match talk had been cause for concern for our Skipper, the uncomfortable shoulder rub, gummed smile and relaxed approach at the toss led Oli to believe that we were heading for a whistle happy 80 minutes. Following an inauspicious start, a knock on from the kick-off, OM’s tore into Cuffleys defence with the same vigour that the British public has been taking to general elections, which is to say, reluctant and frustrated. But, pass by pass, phase by phase, tempo began to build. The first of the afternoons chocolates was eaten up by Obree finishing off a ranging build up, and as every hack you’ve ever played cricket with echoes, one brought two, Avent putting another notch on his bedpost when some wild kicks down field were rewarded after an excellent chase. A period of consolidation followed; slapdash errors encouraged Cuffley, who had an extended spell with the seed, this blossomed into a penalty attempt directly in front of the sticks, toed wide left. The notorious Louie Bird then burdened the scorers, touching down, praising the late Antony Bourdien, fist bumping his chest and pointing to the heavens, “put that in your bodega sandwich” he was heard screaming.
The end of the first spell and start of the second were hijacked by BA and BH Abraham, writing cheques on their reputation which their ability couldn’t cash. Two wayward passes that undoubtably would have led to further points, one of which earned the latter dick of the day and multiple side eyes from teammates alike.
It’s said rugby players are either piano shifters or piano movers, fortunately for us, our captain can play a tune, as the second half began he started finding gaps where there should have been grout, making short work of weary defenders, feeding our moustachioed fullback Samler, channelling his inner Tom Skerritt, for a meat pie. Ego and talent make a dangerous drink, mixed correctly and it’s all strawberry daiquiris but get it wrong and you’ll find yourself being dragged foot first by Schild for another lap around the Swan, luckily, Avent ticked the right boxes, rightfully earning man of the match so he can be forgiven for the smelly chat attached.
Louie once again found himself in space and the casual observer must remind themselves that some birds aren’t meant to be caged, their feathers are too bright. He helped himself to another along with Rob Segar who can probably thank Nashy for the assist, recently subbed and now running the line he was called upon by the ref asking if he’d gone into touch, a slow shake of the head led to another try, the boys were running away with it. Every man has his breaking point, our opposing 6 found his when Garbs joyfully skipped past him, it was at that moment he shouted, “cheers lads, I can’t’ do this” and promptly walked off to the clubhouse. Man up and vanished like a fart in the wind.
Was it textbook? No. But it’s the brick and mortar required to get out of the wasteland that is Herts/Middlesex 2. More considerable challenges await OM’s in season 19/20 but coming away largely unscathed and with the box thoroughly ticked we can be pleased with our afternoons work.
