For those of us that remember playing in the Gordano quagmire a few seasons back, where the contest was more reminiscent of a bloat of hippopotami during the mating season than a rugby match, there was welcome relief at the state of the weather and the condition of the pitch. The stage was set for a joyful encounter!

However, this optimistic disposition was not to last. As we entered the changing rooms to prepare for the first leg of the bi-annual local derby, in traditional OB’s pre-match style, the collective consciousness was somewhat preoccupied with any source of banter immediately available: such as Shane’s lurgy and digestive gymnastics, which we had been informed had left him incapacitated and unable to attend.

Importantly, the focus was not on the order of the day and the task before us. All things rugby related were passively intermittent, lukewarm and I must say bordering on non-existent. Of course, more pressing concerns were unfolding elsewhere and required extensive commentary. Runkle was going to be ‘tying the knot’. Congratulations! Whereas, many wondered as to what extent Bury was managing to endure his role as THE STAG, and as to whether he would emerge from the ordeal unscathed.

The bi product of these momentous extra-rugby events was that OB’s, yet again, were fielding a side with new and exciting combinations. Introductions were made, and as Joe was taping up those of us who can only now play rugby after being mummified with zinc oxide tape, and making Pikey look like an aging tennis player, Hunty took the opportunity to seize the subdued mood and impart his usual pearls of pre-match wisdom. It was thus agreed. Gordano like to run the ball from everywhere. We must not let Gordano have the ball. We must have the ball, and we must run and score. Despite these attempts to raise the banners and unleash the dogs of war, our warm-up resembled a priestly conclave as everyone was trying to figure out where they should be and who was going to be in charge.

To say that there was a volte-face in collective mentality as soon as that first kick off was hoisted would be nothing short of an understatement.

What ensued was one of the grittiest OB’s performances in which I have ever been lucky enough to participate. And in keeping with theme of collective nouns for hippopotami, ‘crash’ is an apt summation of what transpired for the next eighty minutes.

Gordano had an impressive ball carrying game, which put us under a lot of pressure from the start; and, consequently, we went behind early. Nevertheless, the defensive effort was immense when, often starved of possession, the OB’s soaked up wave-upon-wave of Gordano carries and pick-and-go’s. It was a testament to the OB’s tenacity that the opposition’s scores came from accumulations of phases, and not from line-breaks or pretty back play. It was back and forth and neck and neck throughout the contest with neither side willing to give and inch. This was not beautiful rugby. It was a test of physicality and endurance.

Yet, there were some notable moments which require a mention. Firstly, when the crazed flanker that lives within Greener’s soul made an appearance and tried to escape in protest against his host’s repositioning back in the nine shirt. Greener’s flanker alter ego allegedly decided to ‘ruck’ the Gordano 15’s nuts, due to his lying on the ball and slowing up play when OB’s were attacking the 22-yard line. This prompted the Gordano’s lock/captain/yeti to spit his dummy out in splendid fashion and led to him threatening to ‘end’ Andy if he so much as dared behave like a flanker again.

Secondly, after making numerous flamenco-esque runs down the wing, twinkle toes Andreas, through frustration due to the lack of support he received and our inability to get the finishing touch, gave the impression that he would either erupt or create a Gordano ‘running with the bulls’ scenario. I for one would love to see the latter.

Lastly, as our fearless Captain (and pack) had to endure the ref’s re-enactment of Wayne Barnes’ twenty-five minute scrum, which resulted in a penalty try and cost us the game. We were all shocked that Willacy was able to cage his Viking rage in the wake of that dubious decision. Although, it remains to be seen whether Willacy later went marching on Cumbria, or whether the ref was later abducted in a Nordic long ship and Jo now drinks his ale from the deceased ref’s skull.

Final Score: Gordano 24-18 OBs
Tries: Gould; Waugh
Cons: Galloway (1)
Pens: Galloway (2)
BOG: Gould

2nd XV: Barton Hill 61 - 10 OBs

[Ed. - CJ was too focussed on pudding club to prepare a match report this week. We look forward to seeing the CJ vs Cam head-to-head in court.

Final Score: Barton Hill 61 - 10 OBs
Tries: -
Cons: -
BOG: The Ghost of CJ