Harrogate 2015

A bright-eyed and bushy tailed bunch assembled to wave off the mighty Leamington RFC as it set sail for pastures green, but grim. The odd emotional teary-eyed mom insisting on a farewell cuddle (or they’ll storm on the bus with risk of denting child’s credibility) I think I even noticed the odd parent punching the air with glee as they set off to change the bed sheets (is this a woman only thing?).
As a tour virgin I was trying to make sense of the masonic-esque fines and forfeits until one wise sage told me it would be easier to unpick what the front row actually do. Anyway, a new etymological journey for me;
• What goes on tour – stays on tour. I guess this refers to the player’s training gear and drink bottles.
• Don’t mention the naughty step.
• Don’t talk politics.
• Shakespeare is a definite no-no, as are all cultural references (luckily the Fines Master thought Vaughan Williams played for Wales, a close escape).
• Keep a piece of blue paper with your name on it ready for inspection within 10 seconds.
• The dress of shame – fits some better than others.
Anyway, I’m sure that they were laughing with me, and not at me!
A coach trip punctuated by swigs of dog slobber and coke – traditional I guess – and not too unpleasant music. A short toilet break (supposedly for the players and not the wooden-bladdered oldies) and Haribo/doughnut following any, and every, takeaway known to the western world: these guys can eat.
A veritable rugby feast to tantalise and delight now stood before us. Our first time playing 15 a side (so what do flankers do anyway?) and line-outs in the wind – define straight? Number 8 – I know it’s a number – but it seems to have a strange significance when talking rugby.

Our band of brothers – plucky/ feisty and numerically challenged – were undaunted and rose to the task ahead. Last outing was a 72 - 0 demolition of OC's [Bard’s pen was off-duty much to the chagrin of assembled literary luddites] we were magnificent but these rarefied reaches of the north were going to pose some tougher challenges.
[Apologies from the Bacon Bard – due to the Yorkshire welcome (wind/ rain/ cold) my quill pen failed to operate effectively, and so, the following is a synopsis something akin to the ramblings of a non-rugby eejit.]
Rugby, the stated aim for this tour, commenced.

First up was the mighty friendly Middlesbrough. First try for us – Hazza, with strangely Referlee claiming an assist? Skipping over all their tries, we finished with another try (Hazza again – is Referlee claiming another assist?). A tough game and our depleted squad picking up more injuries and now reduced to adopting a selection of Middlesbrough players. A big thank you to sporting Middlesbrough for your support in the finest traditions of rugby – we even had to check the coach boot before leaving for any stowaways – is it really that grim up north?

Game two, against Penrith, followed the now established pattern of us scoring first before the onslaught started – injuries not helping our plight but we were now being called Leamborough in homage to our new friends from the grim-lands.

Game three was against our hosts from Harrogate. Both teams struggling for victory in a tough tournament set up a clash of the minnows – which the mighty Leamborough won: and in doing so, avoided the plate final! Finishing 5th out of 7 after 3 games – the maths elude me on this, as do much of the finer points of rugby.

Highlights of the rugby were;
• James and his long-limbed-dash down the wing from outside their 22 (now, his dad swears that he was in his own 22 when he started, and with 7 hand-offs, although his recollection grew better with each Black Sheep). Don’t mention the crossbar challenge.
• Hazza the mercurial and illusive runner and try scorer.
• Big Dog, the ever competitive, for his tries and sporting play - even when losing.
• Chunk for running straight and making a dent – no frills but he does what it says on the tin.
• Referlee for sporting a Mr Blobby in drag shirt whilst taking charge of games: comments from the crowd were strangely largely positive.
• Our touch judge, Posh Yorkie, being admonished for not keeping up with play – difficult to take seriously when it is delivered by a scantily clad Mr Blobby!

The U15s, arguably the best team of the day, only to be undone by a couple of well worked moves – bravo to QPR (well blue and white hoops apologies for not knowing their name) for their cunning and guile (nouse and ring-craft) for a splendid finale to the day.
To think that in two years we will be advancing to this level is a phenomenal thought, and an aspirational benchmark set by our U15s.
A somewhat cold, wet and windy day of rugby came to a close with just the coaches’ post match analysis to come. These can become a drawn out affair with every drop of learning to be lapped up!

Tank Commander had reached the Crossroads looking for pearls of wisdom – tattooed Jim offered, but none found, so he tried the off license instead.
The kids consumed rather pleasant food at the hostel – although a notable lack of veg being selected - the U15s made up for this with raw citrus fruit. Strange behaviour – is scurvy rife in Yorkshire? It must be grimmer than I’d thought.
A full and frank debrief ensued.

Dress of shame – what an interesting theme this was. A rather slinky dress, for the slimmer figure, was worn by various contributors in the debrief: not sure of the rugby connection here – I guess I have a lot to learn. Some glad-eyes in the room - strange for an all-male environment?

All credit to Tristan – stoic to the end. He must have had a really bad throat, which he didn’t mention once, although the amount of linctus he consumed it must have been quite painful (I believe it was Kola Cubes flavoured if you’re dashing to the chemist).
A philosophical debate around military doctrine ensued from our finest defenders of Queen and country. It went something like this; ‘you don’t leave the theatre of war early – you could be French’ (closely followed by the best impression of a cheese eating surrender monkey since Waterloo). ‘A bit rich coming from a donkey walloper’, came the retort. Is this what they call banter? Not sure which side fired the ‘skiving malingering b’stard’ but I don’t think it matters.

A rousing rendition of ‘nice one tanky… nice one son…’ (Sung to the tune of nice one Cyril) seemed to lead to a musical interlude – I even saw the Churchwarden taking notes for evensong at Old Milverton.
‘My 1 skin lies over my 2 skin’ was an interesting song which I assume refers to rugby paraphernalia – not too sure Old Milverton is ready for it though.
The next song ‘you can’t, you can’t’ was also a trifle negative, I felt – although the jellied-eel accent was difficult to follow at times – not for evensong use (I think Churchwarden put his pen down at this point).
REME brave as a Tank Commander – when out of earshot of his Angel. Maj would be impressed.
Linda Carter (Wonderwoman, AKA Big Lairy Mac) has seen better days, it must be said, now I’m not sure if Tank Commander went to bed or Linda had just eaten him? Numbers were waning with only the more resolute determined to finish the debrief. Tricky ‘tripod’ Dicky, entertainment officer, gave an impression of the drunkest man in Western Europe - a cross between Clint Eastwood, Douglas Bader and Billy Butlin – at this point the RFU Fairness and Dignity on Tour Policy has kicked in and legless jokes are not permitted – you’ll have to make your own up.

It was all getting a little late and a tad messy – I blame ice-pack, Father of the tour, for not showing greater pastoral control.
The following day of paintballing was a good chance for the kids to relax and play. U15s showed a commendable ‘never say die’ attitude, last seen of the pitch, but not sure it works whilst paintballing – when you’ve been shot your supposed to be out! Even if shot in the back by an U13 on your own team.

A tour full of rugby and graft, with great attitude – the players did their club proud.
Bravo to all those that made the tour possible and here’s to the next run ashore.

Bacon Bard.

P.s. I still have a cork and matches in my pocket: Tank Commander – when can I take them out?