Complex Numbers

I don’t know if you watched the match at Kingsholm last night – thanks to BT I wasted a couple of hours in the company of Gloucester v The Tigers. It was a game that could have rivalled the Globe as a production of ‘A Comedy of Errors’ and I would have had more fun if I’d turned over for a re-run of ‘Are you being served’ (no – not really but it would have been a marginal call)

In fact it is calls that I want to talk about today and to offer a belated apology to all the Askean forwards who I disparaged at the time for their abilities in the lineout. Also for the continued disparagement in these pages over the last few months.

Before the match kicked off the programme ran a sort of tutorial on the lineout and how the calls are made. It was run by Ben Kay and Martin Bayfield who know a lot more about forward play than I do – although to be fair my cat would also qualify for that particular accolade.

According to Ben (Kay not Bob obviously – although if you haven’t read the bit on nicknames you will be seriously confused – so just ignore that) – anyway he said that there are 8 calls made for each lineout – 6 of these are drop outs (I think that’s what he said – I was already befuddled by this stage). The other two are the planned options with the decision made after the other team have lined up and the bloke who is calling the line turns up. With me so far? I’m not surprised my head was spinning too at this stage and I had the benefit of a visual guide and a bunch of guys moving back and forward under Ben’s direction.

It then gets even more complex as one of the other 6 calls can be made if, apparently, the opportunity presents itself in the heat of the moment. Like what? One of the opposition forwards having a heart attack? The ref is looking the other way? Don’t ask me – Ben, for all his articulate descriptions didn’t specify exactly how or why the switch to any of these would be made.

Whilst I was even more confused than I had been before this expert advice I have to say my admiration for the forwards went up immensely – mind you that doesn’t raise it all that far.

I have no idea if blokes like Lunny, Rupert, Peety, Doggy, Jimmy, Chas, Kieran, Les, Black Alex, the Kevs (Acott and Burnett), Graham Evans et al had anywhere near this level of complicated plans for the lineout – I suspect not, but it does underline that it is potentially more a science than the lottery that I always thought it was. I don’t mean that you need Brian Cox playing up front but having some basic education in counting into double figures and a knowledge of colours is bound to be helpful I imagine. This would obviously have been a challenge for some props – especially anywhere west of Reading.

I’m guessing we actually only had one call each time – and to be fair, although I often overheard the forwards deciding what the match day system would be in the changing room I never really understood how it worked – mind you since I always did my best to keep away from the rough stuff that they, for some perverse reason, seemed to enjoy, I had no real interest in knowing about it anyway.

When I first started I often played on the wing – at school and in my first season at the club – at that time it was numbers 14 and 11 who chucked the ball back into play – I can’t be sure (it was nearly 50 years ago) but I don’t remember anyone giving me a system of organised methods for determining who I should try and toss it in the general direction of. Mind you I have a job remembering what I had for breakfast these days so there might well have been a level of organisation albeit primitive (which was very much like our forwards)

 It may have simply been that someone’s name was shouted out and we assumed (hoped) that our opponents didn’t know who that was – although I suppose that ‘Black Alex’ would have been a bit of a giveaway.

Even that wouldn’t have been much use since as a newcomer to the club I didn’t know (or want to know) many of the ugly blokes in low numbered shirts – and in the EX A the team changed almost every week anyway so it would have been hard to keep up (something else I have always struggled with)

I suspect that we simply worked on the basis that the bloke who wanted it just held his hand up – this would have been a pretty good wheeze since it was very unlikely that I could lob it anywhere near the vicinity of this chap. So – whilst he was being assaulted by the opposition who expected him to get the ball it actually landed in some other poor sods grasp and off we went!

So – to all those forwards I played with over the years – my sincere apologies – but trust me – that doesn’t let you off all the times you dragged me into a ruck just as I was trying desperately to fuck off out of the way!

The Big Test

The big game this weekend won’t be at Twickenham or Cardiff (sorry if you’ve got tickets guys)

Askeans take on Lordswood (away) in a top of the table clash. It was meant to be a pre-match lunch at home but they are celebrating their plastic jubilee or finally getting rid of moles or something and so we kindly agreed to play at their place (wherever the fuck that is).

Let’s hope that we give them a stuffing (and it isn’t some Paxo left over from Thanksgiving) in order to remain as top dogs come Saturday night.

If you’re going give them a cheer from us old farts!

The next pre-match lunch is on January 18th against Orpington (unless they decide to have an anniversary to celebrate seceding from the local scout group). I’ve already made plans to attend – so you might want to opt for the January sales.

I’m sure Lunny and Boney will be sending round details.

Go Askeans!

Another Archive Special

This is the programme from 1952 for a game to celebrate the opening of the War Memorial Stand at Kidbrooke..
It features some great players, many of whom I knew from my time at the club – Dick, Wilf, Sid Green (Dick’s writing partner), Chas, Alan Johnson, Steve Collins, Malcolm Keen, John Ratcliffe, John Morgan, Eddie Bing and Eric Wilcox. Not least George Martin – who was an amazing team secretary from 1961 until long after I stopped playing. I never played with George but was lucky enough to run out with his son Kim on many occasions.
I did get to play with some of the others in the 60s and 70s – Dick (and later his son Paul), Sid, Steve and of course Chas!

The (almost) Unbeatables

Forget the All Blacks in 2013 – back in 1947/8 the Askean 1st XV won 21 out 0f 22 games – losing only their second to last game against Southend by 8 – 6 (at least it wasn’t Sidcup!)
The team was captained by Tub and also featured Dick Hills, Wilf, Denis Bangs, Eddie Bing and John Morgan.
Dick was at Cambridge at the time and I don’t know if he got a blue or not (as in Varsity not a role (roll) in an adult movie)

Foreign Exchange

If you look at the teams in any of the international sides and the big clubs it is apparent that a high proportion of the players don’t come from ‘round the corner’ (or any of Chunky and Graham’s other establishments for that matter!)

It is a tribute to the commentators that they manage to pronounce half the names – in particular those with as many as four vowels next to each other. There are several in the Wallaby team whose names have actually about three times as many vowels as consonants in them! Remembering these names does, however, come in pretty handy in a game of scrabble if you’re stuck with a tray full of bloody low numbers.

It was inevitable with the advancement of professionalism and the availability of budgets from TV and sponsorship (but still largely from philanthropic millionaires) that the mobility of players would vastly increase (as in getting on Virgin planes not racing around the park – although that has also been true).

Add in the residency qualification and it is not unusual for these oddly spelt names to turn up in the various 6 nations teams with accents that don’t appear to hail from the Valleys, Highlands or Berkshire.

For example, Wales have Toby Faletau and the French feature the wonderfully named Fulgence Ouedraogo who I’m pretty sure wasn’t born anywhere near the Eiffel Tower.

I really don’t have a problem with it – although I wish Israel Folau and Ma’a Nonu had been persuaded to move to the Home Counties a few years ago – SBW too – and his name wouldn’t have looked so weird on the England team sheet (except for the Sonny bit obviously)

It’s the reality of the modern game – but it bears little resemblance to the make-up of the teams that we had down at Kidbrooke.

We did of course have a few foreigners in the sides – I mean Ronnie Bainbridge and Dick Fowler came from Yorkshire for fucks sake! The Hawtrees (Bob and Mike) were also from some place north of Watford. It was where they learned to speak cloggy I imagine and they told me that they spent most of their time digging for coal and drinking beer (often at the same time) – to be honest  I’m not sure if they were joking or not, as it was hard to tell what on earth they were saying most of the time!

Then there was Gordon McGowan – who had been playing somewhere near Manchester but who I always felt sounded a bit like a sweaty (as in sweaty sox for those who weren’t born near Bow).

Stuart McKinney was from Ireland (obviously since he’d played for the Emerald Isle and had been an Irish Lion) – I was always a bit suspicious of some of the blokes from St Mary’s and St Jo’s too – who looked just a little bit too pleased when Mike Gibson or Keith Wood scored at Twickenham. These included Paddy (that was bit of a clue I suppose), Kieran, Tom, John Gallagher and the Tays – I always gave them the benefit of the doubt since they all had accents almost as awful as my own!

We did for some obscure reason allow Chris B (Wales) and Lee (mad Aussie) to play for us – and like the others I was always grateful when they scored or better still tackled my opposite number for me.

Jimmy brought along a bloke called John (Anderson I think) who arrived from the States and turned out to be pretty capable back – he had mastered a particularly useful long throw from his college football days and this was especially effective whenever he occasionally remembered that it was supposed to go backwards. Unfortunately this was not always the case and he used to get terribly upset whenever the ref called him back for a 40 yard forward pass! He was equally confused as to why we hadn’t charged up the field to try and catch it as it sailed over the try line.

Eventually we got him to throw in at the lineout and this was a good use of his talent – catching out the opposition forwards as it flew across the field to land neatly in the arms of our winger on the other side of the field. I promise you I am not making this up – well not all of it – his lineout throw did become a planned move!

We did indeed recruit some very capable mercenaries to our ranks – primarily from the land of the long white cloud (and I’m not referring to Wyoming or the Apaches).

Our Kiwi mates included Roy Narby, Hayden Corless, the Coopers and Chevals, Ron Williams and a few others – sadly none of them had the exotic names (or a ridiculous proliferation of ‘a’s, ‘u’s and ‘i’s) originating from any of the Pacific Islands. This is a shame as it would have scared the crap out of the opposition when they saw them listed in the programme.

I don’t recall us having any South Africans – rejected I imagine as we didn’t want anyone who had a worse accent than the rest of us. For the same reason we avoided players from Birmingham.

I’m sure there are a few others I haven’t remembered – and I apologise if I’ve failed to mention that you were (and possibly still are – a ‘Johnny Foreigner’ – which incidentally would also have looked pretty good on a team sheet).

Askeans did very well in my time and although we were lucky to be bolstered (‘ooh matron’) by these very welcome immigrants to Kidbrooke mostly the team all hailed from South East London (where in fact it does hail quite a lot!)

‘The Cortisone Kid!’

Found this great photo in Nic’s archives – not sure of the year but it includes the brilliant Ken ‘Cortisone kid’ Walker who kept the 1st team going for many a season repairing injuries (mostly during the game)
He’s the one in the front row with the syringe and scalpel (not really obviously). He’s third from the left in the front row. Those kneeling at the far right are Phil Betts (Vic’s brother) and that incomparable ref (in later years) Alan Johnson

Big Game Weekend

 Latest note from Brom re Askeans continued progress this season!

From: Mark Bromage [ma
Sent: 25 November 2013 16:43
To: David Shute; Ian.Alexander@; frankbrigg; mharris526@ho; ‘Marc Fisher’; Nick_Lockyer@JLT; seanmcmanus@uw
Cc: ‘Paul Taylor’; paul.owens21@ntlw; Paul Owens (Paul); Hugh Robson (hug); ‘Patrick Norton’ (patrick)
Subject: Can Askeans Be Number One at Christmas?

 

Jingle bells, jingle bells, Jingle all the way:

Oh! What fun it is to see Askeans win away!

 

The A’s are still heading the league as we approach the festive season, after a 17-7 victory away to Whitstable put us on 35 points, but both Lordswood (32 points)) and New Ash Green (28 points) kept up the pressure with bonus point victories, making this Saturday’s match away at Lordswood a genuine top of the table clash.

The tension mounts…….

Brom

Bigger hits than for Baa Baas at Twickenham this weekend? Unless Erika Roe turns up again anyway!

 

The Lazarus Effect

Blimey not just one major comeback but three – Two of them New Zealand teams that came back in the dying seconds of important games to defy the odds.

First on Saturday the Kiwi rugby league team drew level with England in the World Cup semi-final with just 19 seconds left before the hooter was going to sound – they then converted to book a place in the final next week against the Kangaroos.

On Sunday the All Blacks waited even later – the clock had turned red before they also scored to draw level with the conversion to come. Aaron Cruden needed two goes to seal (steal) victory – Ireland charged before he offered and so Nigel Owens gave him another go!

There might have been even more drama if he’d missed – no doubt there would have been a lot made of the fact that the TMO missed O’Connor dropping the ball before he touched down for Ireland’s first ‘try’.

Which brings me to another controversy that followed about 15 minutes after the Ireland game had finished when, late in the Premiership match, Tom Johnson of the Chiefs was denied a perfectly good try by another TMO decision.

We never had TMOs at Askeans – sometimes we were lucky to have 15 players and a ref with two functioning ocular organs – linesmen were a bonus (mainly because we supplied our own and relied on them to try and balance any myopia from the ref!).

Having said that I don’t remember that many times when we suffered (or indeed benefitted) from decisions regarding the awarding of a try. There were very few of the mauls that you see these days on the line where 16 bodies attempt to dislodge the ball, hold up the bloke grasping it or hide the fact that the bastard has actually already grounded it. The only time 16 blokes were that close to each other in our games was in the scrums and line-outs – even then the ref often had to wait for the fat ones to catch up before he let play continue. Frequently the ref was actually the last one to get there anyway!

The sort of things that could affect the outcome of a game were knock- ons and forward passes – but again it was usually possible to influence (i.e. intimidate) the ref by screaming loudly along the lines of  “blimey ref come on – forward pass!” as soon as they looked like getting near the line ( and irrespective if a pass of any sort had been involved anyway).

If he ignored you (as some of the brave or deaf ones did) then it was useful to try and get him to favour you next time by muttering amongst yourselves and looking darkly at him. More subtly you could shake your head and say (sotto voce) “never mind lads we’re playing against 16 here!”

I’ve already done a chapter on refs so I’m not going to go on about them – I suspect in the swings and roundabouts of outrageous fortune we got as many good decisions as bad ones. Mind you if you were ever even awarded as much as a penalty in Wales or the West Country you can bet your life it wasn’t kickable and was only awarded when the offence was so blatant that even Stevie Wonder couldn’t have missed it. Frankly I don’t blame those refs – they took their lives in their hands if they attempted to be even handed. It’s true that the crowds only threw carrots to show their displeasure – but it’s also a fact that they rarely took them out of the tins first.

A further benefit of not having to wait for a TMO decision was that in the weather at this time of year you didn’t want to hang around in the icy wind whilst he tried to work out how to rewind the action without deleting everything and then guess what had happened.

That’s it on the weekend decisions – I did say at the beginning that there have been three big comebacks this week – the last one was Monty Python –the worrying thing being that they all look better than I do!

The Norwegian Blue may be dead but the New Zealand Black is in rude health – merely resting and pining for the fjords of Milford Sound

Evergreen and Ever Present!

As promised yesterday here’s the Telegraph clip for Chas’ 500th 1st team appearance.
I’m not sure how many more games he played but whatever it was it will never be beaten. Des is next at 379, Graham third with 373. Boney played more than 280 – I’m not sure how many Doggy and Bush clocked up but they must both have been close.
I was over 200 but less than 250 (injuries didn’t help).

Chas played alongside many great front rows – including, Terry Phipps, Rupert, Keith Brown,Lunny, Doggy and of course the ever reliable Kipper. These are only the ones I remember – in 500+ games there will have been many more!

Paying For It!

Despite the heading this is not a Paul Flowers type admission regarding use of crystal meth, intricate fraud techniques and frolicking (obviously a euphemism) with ladies of the night. Sorry to disappoint you but I’ve only done two of these aforementioned activities (of course not – what do I know about financial shenanigans?). Again – no not really – take that condom off your head!

The condom reference and original source will only be really understood by a couple of my mates – Lunny, Jimmy, Brewster, Ben and a few others. It basically means don’t be so bleeding gullible but is far more colourful and graphic – and was actually invented by Lunny in observation one of Jimmy’s less perceptive comments. Also it has the added benefit of filling up more space here!

Anyway this is actually about the lasting effect of injuries picked up (or rather inflicted by nasty bastards) whilst frolicking (again used as a euphemism but in a different context) about on the rugby pitch. Although thinking about it the definitive ‘fucking about’ provides a far more accurate description of what I used to do on a Saturday afternoon at Kidbrooke.

To continue yesterday’s metrological theme it remains extremely parky down here – and much too cold and icy to jog – my usual Saturday morning concession to (unsuccessfully) ward off getting porky – or rather to use the more correct comparative term ‘porkier’!

Surprisingly it wasn’t just the outside temperature and sight of thick frost that made me bugger off back to bed at 7 am – I do, in fact, own some rather fetching long johns, idiot mittens and woolly Paddington Bear socks in my extensive and much admired wardrobe. These would easily have helped ward off the unseasonal conditions – but what really aided my sensible decision to return to the covers was the recurring pain in my knees, hips and what passes for muscles (or where they used to be) these days. – all of which ache even more when its below freezing. Add to that the fact on a recent Saturday morning plod I tripped and grazed all the exposed parts – and then it wasn’t even icy!

I’ve made numerous references to my (many) rugby injuries here (including a whole extended chapter – ‘Getting Hurt’).

Now those painful moments are coming back to haunt me – like ghosties and (a kick in the) ghoullies (which happened more than once and is worse than most acts of violence on the field).

There is stiffness from a dislocated shoulder, broken jaw, collapsed zygomatic arch, backward dislocation of the ankle and numerous broken noses and fingers. Obviously it is nose in the singular – but broken on several occasions (once courtesy of our own number 8 – DK – an incident that has also been (painfully) recorded in this tome.

The various concussions I suffered had no lasting effect with the exception of enabling me to pen this drivel each day – for my own amusement if not yours!

Unfortunately the regular stiffness is confined to specific areas these days and is not apparent in the one location where it would be more welcome.

I have no idea how the players of today will end up feeling when they get to my age and frankly that doesn’t make me feel any better (as Basil Fawlty said “I could do with a laugh!”). The extensive list of injuries at both international and club level in all rugby playing countries seem to get ever longer (as does the periods of rehabilitation) and, as I have mentioned before, there are many players having to retire because of injuries that either won’t heal or put their long term health at risk.

The advent of the professional era has yielded benefits in strength, fitness and skill (all attributes that are totally foreign to the way I played) – but it has also provided the corollary of increasing the number and severity of the injuries suffered by players.

I’ve probably given the impression that playing for Askeans entailed a serious health hazard during my time in the shirt – that’s not entirely true although it probably was if you were unfortunate enough to be playing outside me (or with DK).

In fact however, there were any number of guys I played with who hardly ever seemed to get injured.

The most notable one was Chas who clocked up over 500 games for the 1^st XV – and you don’t get to do that if you let a little thing like a smashed Zygoma keep you from your regular Saturday sojourn on the pitch. I have the newspaper clip celebrating Chas’ achievement somewhere – I think I’ll dig it out and add it here to mark his remarkable longevity – he was known as ‘Evergreen’ (and I don’t think that referred to an unfortunate tropical disease).

Other guys who rarely seemed to miss a game included Bush, Hickey, Dunky, Boney, Paddy, Peety, Doggy, Jimmy, the Kevs (Acott and Burnett), Kieran, Les, Butch, Benny, Ben and indeed many others. I do remember Locks dislocating his shoulder in one game but Ken put it back in and he returned to play the rest of the match!

The fact that these blokes went largely unhurt says a lot – especially since the poor sods mostly played alongside me and must have spent much of the time dreading one of my (go directly to hospital) passes!

There were many others who also managed to avoid being shipped off to hospital I can’t remember all of them as I was so often off the pitch being stitched up by the ‘Cortisone Kid’.

 

Well it’s back to the sofa now so that I can rest my aching limbs and pad my body against the freezing temperature with more pasties and flagons of London Pride.

It seems to be working too – the voice on our talking scales this morning used the old chestnut ‘only one at a time please’ – sarky bastard!