After a fine morning of rugby for some, OBs travelled to 3rd place Midsomer Norton to attempt to make a statement in the league. As far as preparation goes it was not a fine start with Captain Joe arriving late, albeit due to the maze of changing rooms to navigate and being asked to move a few times. General chat largely centred around the morning's results with some murmurs of dissatisfaction over ‘only’ putting 40 points on the Ozzies, however I think it can be agreed that this is much better than scraping past 14 men [Ed. I am disappointed that pre-match chat didn't centre on the extraordinary Twitter exchange between MSN and OBs on #TopographyTuesday].

The slow start continued throughout the warm up, with a quarter of the team missing for the majority. Once the full team grouped and subsequently cowed by an angry tirade from Joe, the intensity was upped knowing an afternoon of driving mauls was up ahead.
A fired-up OBs were ready at kick off with a strong opening period spent in Norton’s half, unfortunately as has been the case through the season, this was not capitalised on and 2 tries were scored on the counter by the home side.

The remaining 60 minutes passed by largely as anticipated with Norton providing a stern test in the driving lineout and sending up the pack through the middle. Flash points of this period were Jon Hill taking my mantle as the K/O king, hoping he is well now! This led to Greener regaining his favoured 9 position and subsequently butchering a well worked try. The cause of this faux pas could be due to having to do some form of proper training with the forwards rather than taking it easy with the backs.

Jamie then decided that this could be topped with the worst attempt at kicking for sticks since Marshy at Avon, with a drop kick in front of the posts not even making it off the ground [Ed. This brings me great, great pleasure]. This could have been a ploy for the final 10 minutes as it left the entire Norton team in stitches and struggling to breathe through the tears of mirth, allowing OBs to play their best rugby of the match in trying to score the 4th try. Unfortunately, although playing some very good rugby we could not convert this pressure.

The result epitomises the season we are having currently, starting slowly and having to fight back in each game through to struggling to convert the chances we do make. We have said previously that ‘OBs of old would not have won that game’, lets do our best to ensure that we do not revert to ‘the OBs of old’ and that starts with training attendance.

Final Score: Midsomer Norton 30-19 OBs
Tries: Duncan (2); G Hazell
Cons: Galloway (2)
Pens: -
BOG: Law

===

2nd XV: Wotton 5-69 OBs

Wotton away - fixture to look forward to. Playing a team fresh off the back of promotion, a tough, physical battle upfront in the offering was expected.

But first, the facilities: two car parks, one for the off roaders and then the school car park, neither in easy reach of the pitch / changing rooms, so this is a ground for an aspiring rambler.

The changing rooms were much improved, with previous water pressure issues fixed and the showers now up to full pressure.

The pitch, a former farmer's field dedicated to the greater good, in racing terms was on the soft side and can only be described as Penrose Stairs.

On to the less interesting part, the game itself.

Sadly Wotton lost several key players, however full credit to their spirit and attitude. The game began uncontested, and the sight of Whiteman arrive as the 16th man would surely have made their life more difficult upfront.

Tries wise, there were plenty and the performance of Cullen in scoring four, including a rendition of the night before onto the pitch at half time sums up the overall game.

Fittingly, Wotton kept going to the end when many other sides would have changed tact.
However, the game was ended after about 70 minutes. Having thrown everything at Old B’s, an agreement was made to retire to the bar.

A short trip into Wotton itself took us to a cash only bar, serving a delightful range of beverages and curry and chips.

Overall food rating was 3/5, where a French stick rather than sliced bread would have raised it to a four.

Highlights, Whiteman running up the slope, defying the laws of physics to score, the number of tries scored and overall spirit in what was really a one-sided contest. Hopefully Wotton will be back to full strength for a return fixture.

I do wonder from last year when Wayne buried their flanker in the hit of the day how many of them reconsidered their desire for the game, the hole left by the tackle is currently being mapped by Ordnance Survey and labelled “Wayne’s Trench”.

Final Score: Wotton 5-69 OBs
Tries: Cullen (4); Matt L-H; Whiteman; Fin; Cam
Cons: Marcus (lots)
BOG: Giddings

===

3rd XV: Cotham Park 2s 17-66 OBs

This is a bit different for me… a match report with a ban on any details about the game itself. “What’s new?” critics of my journalistic work might ask. But this is the law passed down via the creative quills of Pool, Yarker, Lambert, HRH Tan et al and it shall be enshrined forever in this great rugby club.

I had been down for the vets breakfast/buffet lunch before failing to resist making myself available for the first time in seven months and joining the mighty 3s at our closest neighbours, Cotham Park.

During the week, we were woefully short of players. The outlook was so bleak that uncontested scrums appeared a near certainty and Tristan had been pencilled in at 12.
As it happened, he ended up playing like a greying Sam Simmonds at number eight.

By kick-off, we had a full front row and a squad of 21 including the return of an ex-OB. He only played a half, but certainly made an impact as that half ended 40-0 to us.

What a squad 21 it was, though. It blended young and old, fat and thin, hirsute and bald, sober and tipsy. There were club legends in the form of Whittle, Trezona and Fowler. There was the more mature presence of Currie and Evans, plus an arsenal of young talent fired up by England’s dominant dispatching of Australia earlier in the day. Oh, and there was Hamchop, eight pints deep. He had a score to settle with Cotham Park and could barely contain his excitement as he proclaimed: “This may be the strongest 3s team in history."

No fewer than 66 points later against a 2nd team and it’s hard to argue with that assessment.

The changing room was buzzing before kick-off. Ferg kicked off his lesbian footwear – some beautiful, cherry-coloured Doc Martins – and limbered up.

Introductions were made and acquaintances renewed, but they paled in comparison to new recruit Mathieu’s arrival. The incredibly polite Frenchman (I presume he’s French) proceeded to shake the hand of every man and beast in that changing room. It was stirring stuff.

The pitch had two grass lengths – six inches for the bulk of it and 1cm for the lines. Pac-Man would have had a field day.

As was always his style, returning hero Whittle had sandwiched a pair of shin-pads between at least two pairs of socks. I thought he had upgraded his cycle shorts from a decade go, until he turned around and I saw these were also moth-eaten. His neck was still on the chunky side of 20 inches.

After one of the most vigorous warm-ups I have ever experienced (when I was 1st XV captain, we never ran around that much) it was time to see if our eclectic blend could gel for the greater good. There were many, many penalties conceded by the men in green, maroon and gold, and it was a close contest until the final play of the first half.

Then we pulled away and demolished the opposition. Playing up the slope in the second half, we piled on six tries – including some superb, multi-phase efforts - without reply.
Cotham Park’s tunnel was a little lethargic in its formation. Ours was neat enough.

Wheeler enjoyed the match so much he showered in his gumshield. As one of the newer members of the squad struggled to work out how to find Cotham Park’s first-floor bar, he asked: “How do I get up?”
“Just rub it really hard,” a team-mate quipped.

But the highlight of the post-match proceedings was seeing Old Whittle and New Whittle (Chunk) sat side by side in the clubhouse. They didn’t say much to each other. Such kindred spirits don’t need to.
If, at that point, they had been painted the work of art produced would have been called “The Devolution of Man”.

Chunk, wearing a beautiful retro shirt, told a story about a date involving banana bread. Presumably, Whittle was thinking of his date with Angry Tom Keen’s ex-girlfriend’s mum.
Although, as many of you will know, that was more of a chocolate fudge cake and raspberry coulis affair [Ed. THIS, is your finest piece of journalism]. For those who don’t, ask Whittle.

As the triumphant Bs filtered out of the clubhouse, every one of those heroes received a round of applause from their team-mates.
It was the least they deserved for an exhibition of the kind of rugby which can be achieved when backs and forwards come together as one.

Book of Homme: Ferg's Doc Martins, Chunk's shirt, Whittle's cycling shorts, Wheeler's gumshield

Final Score: Cotham Park 2s 17-66 OBs
Tries: Fowler; Dean; Evans (2); New (2); Whittle; Hamblett; Steffan; Tom
Cons: Janek; New (6); Hamblett
BOG: Wheeler / Evans