Lets See how Much I Can Write (before H. gets back from the store)
0 Comments Published by Oh Wayward One on 10 May 2006 at 5/10/2006 08:44:00 pm.
It was an eventful week.
First of all I keep meaning to commit to words, the most surreal experience I had a couple weeks ago.
We had just finished playing squash on a friday night, and while we were waiting for our Indian takeaway food to be ready for collection, I said "lets go to Rory Gallagher's grave". We've been living in this city that's good for NUTTIN except for that it's my idol's hometown and place of eventual burial. (True, his fatal liver-transplant surgery was in the UK, but they buried him here in the fambly cemetary) Never quite made it around to getting there.
So there we were, standing in awe of this grave, and I got so upset. It made me think about death, and it made H. think about death, and we had a big conversation about what if one of us died. It was terribly emotional and morbid and made me really upset, yet I was still in awe of Rory's grave and the beautiful bright summer night, and everything. I suppose you could call it a tidal wave of feelings. Sort of. We both concluded that we probably wouldn't go ahead with Botswana if the other one kicked the bucket, since that was supposed to be "our" thing. And we both concluded, as well, that it would probably be too hard to leave the country where the other was buried, should an actual burial take place. You know, if there's a body. Or whatever.
ANYWAY
The last 2 rugby games of the Spring season was Sunday.
Well lets just say that the first game (it was a double-header) was a walkover, naturally. One of the girls from my yoga class was on that team, BTW. That girl that just really looks like a runner. But I know nothing about her. ANYWAY our 2nd game was against the only undefeated team. The Hookers.
Now let me just preface this by saying they were really good. They were fast, but most of all they were strong and tough. They had fancy moves and their boys were LARGE. But the catch was they were friggin ROUGH as knackers! I mean they were dropping shoulders into our guys time after time, batting tags away, cuddling the ball into their bodies & there was loads of full-contact over and over and over again. The icing on the cake is when we went to the ref at half time to request a tag-swap (our yellow ones for their red ones - our yellows kept falling off the velcro was shite), and the ref said "sure, as long as they agree to it"... so little ol' Ros goes over to ask nicely and what did they say "nope. though shite" or something to that affect. So Ros has to put her tail between her legs and walk back over to us with the reddest face in the world. Poor thing. And so that was IT. And even when the ref saw their antics, he proposed to us that he could MAKE them swap, if we wanted. But of course we took the high road and played with the crap tags again because we didn't want anyones sloppy seconds if you know wudda mean.
So it got good in the 2nd half where unfortunately me and Alan and Kevin and John M. were all on the sideline getting ready to rotate in, and one of these other guys (Hookers) gave Tim C. a massive whollop (for like the 3rd OBVIOUS time) and John O'D. cracked the shits and grabbed this guy by the shirt and lifted him up in the air and proceeded to get in his face, at which time jabs were thrown in the frays and a bit of "afters" were had by all. It was unreal. Just like a WWF match. So then the ref can't break it up, and John M. then flies off the sidelines onto the pitch and starts swinging, cursing, and screaming and well just general all hell and lunacy breaks out. Before we know it, John M has a red card and John O'D has a yellow card, both teams have to send one man off, and we play 6 on 6 for 5 minutes because John O'D was sent to the sin bin, as was one of THEIR players, for fighting.
So that's basically the story.
We beat them in points, (12-9) but our red card costs us 5, and we end up losing 7 - 9.
Now, it goes to figure that we'd all be pretty pissed at John M. for loosing it for us, but it was really no big deal. I mean we were in 2nd place and they were in 1st place anyway (we had 1 draw on our scorecard for the year, they had only wins), so we'd end up meeting each other in the final (next weekend) no matter what. So really, no one gave a rat's balls, EXCEPT FOR THE FACT that we NEED John M. for the final! Now he's suspended for like, multiple games. However still, he wasn't even going to BE there for the final anyway, so again, no big thing.
Well apparently he felt so guilty, however, that we all got this email on monday:
Lads,
Congratulations on a super win in yesterday’s second game.
I want to apologies to the team for acting the maggot when things got a bit tense during the second half.
What I did was reactive and immature. I shouldn’t have done it.
Best of luck in next week’s game; I won’t be available for it.
Go néirí libh,
John
P.S. If anyone has the number of a good anger management counsellor they can recommend, please send it on.
------------------------------
Right. So apparently THATS how much I can write (before H. gets back from the store). Not a bad effort I reckon.
First of all I keep meaning to commit to words, the most surreal experience I had a couple weeks ago.
We had just finished playing squash on a friday night, and while we were waiting for our Indian takeaway food to be ready for collection, I said "lets go to Rory Gallagher's grave". We've been living in this city that's good for NUTTIN except for that it's my idol's hometown and place of eventual burial. (True, his fatal liver-transplant surgery was in the UK, but they buried him here in the fambly cemetary) Never quite made it around to getting there.
So there we were, standing in awe of this grave, and I got so upset. It made me think about death, and it made H. think about death, and we had a big conversation about what if one of us died. It was terribly emotional and morbid and made me really upset, yet I was still in awe of Rory's grave and the beautiful bright summer night, and everything. I suppose you could call it a tidal wave of feelings. Sort of. We both concluded that we probably wouldn't go ahead with Botswana if the other one kicked the bucket, since that was supposed to be "our" thing. And we both concluded, as well, that it would probably be too hard to leave the country where the other was buried, should an actual burial take place. You know, if there's a body. Or whatever.
ANYWAY
The last 2 rugby games of the Spring season was Sunday.
Well lets just say that the first game (it was a double-header) was a walkover, naturally. One of the girls from my yoga class was on that team, BTW. That girl that just really looks like a runner. But I know nothing about her. ANYWAY our 2nd game was against the only undefeated team. The Hookers.
Now let me just preface this by saying they were really good. They were fast, but most of all they were strong and tough. They had fancy moves and their boys were LARGE. But the catch was they were friggin ROUGH as knackers! I mean they were dropping shoulders into our guys time after time, batting tags away, cuddling the ball into their bodies & there was loads of full-contact over and over and over again. The icing on the cake is when we went to the ref at half time to request a tag-swap (our yellow ones for their red ones - our yellows kept falling off the velcro was shite), and the ref said "sure, as long as they agree to it"... so little ol' Ros goes over to ask nicely and what did they say "nope. though shite" or something to that affect. So Ros has to put her tail between her legs and walk back over to us with the reddest face in the world. Poor thing. And so that was IT. And even when the ref saw their antics, he proposed to us that he could MAKE them swap, if we wanted. But of course we took the high road and played with the crap tags again because we didn't want anyones sloppy seconds if you know wudda mean.
So it got good in the 2nd half where unfortunately me and Alan and Kevin and John M. were all on the sideline getting ready to rotate in, and one of these other guys (Hookers) gave Tim C. a massive whollop (for like the 3rd OBVIOUS time) and John O'D. cracked the shits and grabbed this guy by the shirt and lifted him up in the air and proceeded to get in his face, at which time jabs were thrown in the frays and a bit of "afters" were had by all. It was unreal. Just like a WWF match. So then the ref can't break it up, and John M. then flies off the sidelines onto the pitch and starts swinging, cursing, and screaming and well just general all hell and lunacy breaks out. Before we know it, John M has a red card and John O'D has a yellow card, both teams have to send one man off, and we play 6 on 6 for 5 minutes because John O'D was sent to the sin bin, as was one of THEIR players, for fighting.
So that's basically the story.
We beat them in points, (12-9) but our red card costs us 5, and we end up losing 7 - 9.
Now, it goes to figure that we'd all be pretty pissed at John M. for loosing it for us, but it was really no big deal. I mean we were in 2nd place and they were in 1st place anyway (we had 1 draw on our scorecard for the year, they had only wins), so we'd end up meeting each other in the final (next weekend) no matter what. So really, no one gave a rat's balls, EXCEPT FOR THE FACT that we NEED John M. for the final! Now he's suspended for like, multiple games. However still, he wasn't even going to BE there for the final anyway, so again, no big thing.
Well apparently he felt so guilty, however, that we all got this email on monday:
Lads,
Congratulations on a super win in yesterday’s second game.
I want to apologies to the team for acting the maggot when things got a bit tense during the second half.
What I did was reactive and immature. I shouldn’t have done it.
Best of luck in next week’s game; I won’t be available for it.
Go néirí libh,
John
P.S. If anyone has the number of a good anger management counsellor they can recommend, please send it on.
------------------------------
Right. So apparently THATS how much I can write (before H. gets back from the store). Not a bad effort I reckon.
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