With two matches to play The Brave Bulls were in a dog fight with 2 or three other teams for the dreaded drop. Nobody wants demotion, particularly when you're fated with away trips to the far reaches of the county; Milton Keynes or Buckingham anybody?
We were also aware that two of the Chesham Bois teams (Upstarts & Seniors) were in the doo doo with us, but were playing Chesham Bois Juniors (safe and indifferent) in their last matches. We respect them as honorable foe but recognize that survival sometimes brings out man's baser instincts. So, we needed to take the bit between our teeth and be masters of our own destiny: win the last two matches handsomely and cast care to the wind.
The first step of the final step was some ruthless captaincy; cutting loose the dross. As part of the cull The Python, when he came out with his customary opening gambit: 'but Tuesday's my shagging night' was told to go forth and shag. I received no such notice, nothing but a dusty silence when this team's selection was discussed at last week's apres match meal. There was much whispering... Being dropped for a Camel and a Rhino is almost as demoralizing as being told by Big Bird that I am the '320th most shaggable totty in the club'; shortly followed by Tracey revealing to me that, for her, I was the '2nd most loathsome member of the club'. The only pleasure in that conversation was when she revealed who was more loathsome than me... But 320th most shaggable? Nic Manley's at 250 for christ's sake! The only relief is the knowledge that Lisa likes 'ugly blokes with big c*cks' so... one out of two should surely see me in the top 200. No?
Anyway, I digress. The team that pitched up was not pretty but fit for purpose:
Koala (just back from a ski trip that saw him dancing naked with a bellyful of the black stuff)
Pig (just back from Cyprus and more concerned with the math than the match)
Chicken (preoccupied with completing his daughter's science homework online)
Rhino (devoid of talent and form but at least consistent... renamed Guilder Christ; our saviour)
Camel (dressed like a bag man preparing to sleep under Waterloo bridge; with a demeanor that is the opposite of 'a coiled spring'.)
They weren't exactly going to put the fear of God into Booker but, blimey, they were sure to get pity.
I was there as photographer and correspondent.
This is what I saw:
He huffed and he puffed and blew out any match plan that his opponent might have had; effectively delivering the ball to his helpless opponent with rigor mortis.
His helpless opponent Don Westerman was new to us all and apparently he is 'very good at basketball'...
Just as well for the Camel that...
3-0
On the other court Jim was up against Tim Bark-Jones.
Tim wanders around court like an old man in a library; he kept venturing to the dusty corners only to seemingly foget why he'd gone there. Perhaps a return to the T would jog his memory. There were the odd moments of lucidity when he shot from the hip to force some devastating short winners but generally his body language articulated his performance. Jim just needed to stay awake to convert the points and did so admirably.
3-0
Then came the the Rhino. Chris has been heard wailing to himself in the changing rooms "I'm not a rhino, I'm a man'. Photographic evidence seems to suggest that he may have a point...
He warmed up by playing with an imaginary ball and I must say that it's the best I've seem of him lately. He looked full of purpose and his (imaginary) timing was faultless. Things wobbled a bit upon the introduction of a ball and an opponent, Duncan Swallow (who was later to disgrace himself by not offering the team's support staff (me) beer.) Chris's commitment to the rally was more than Dunc could cope with so he took to doing Mr Bean impressions...
3-0
Meanwhile the Koala was on the other court taking on their number one, a pugnacious Mark Brown. Mearsy had no chance did he? He was still reeking of the weekend's indulgences and carrying around a barrelful of unpissed belly beer. He was dispatched with ease in the first game but then the little emperor dug in, his drops found the nicks, his lobs became inch perfect and he took the 2nd with ease. At 7-6 up in the 3rd the look on his face was priceless: he was a little more engaged than he'd anticipated and there was nowt left in the tank. The wheels came flying off and Mark relentlessly but mercifully put Napoleon out of his misery. Still, a vital point at number one, normally a desert for us.
1-3
Last up was our skipper. Now playing at 2 The Pig has been finally enjoying team life. A season at number 1 as 'team punch bag' was starting to test even Ian's resolve. So, after a week of sunbathing in Cyprus we found him rejuvinated but agin talented opposition. 'Gorgeous' George Goodchild and Ian went toe to toe and produced the match of the evening. The rallies were long and testing and eventually took their toll on both players; George was moving further and further back, Pig was tinning more and more drops. At one all George's error count was rising and it seemed that Ian might prevail, but Booker's Babe reined himself in and finally overcame our brave but knackered Pig.
1-3
Meantime, The Chicken and The Rhino have asked me use this forum to scotch rumors once and for all that they are involved in a gay relationship. This has led to many unkind 'what do you get if you cross a chicken with a rhino?' type jibes. They have also informed me that their latest 'charge' Quentin is not an offspring but actually adopted. They're considering boarding school to keep 'Q' with their other little ones, but simply cannot come to an agreement. One of them is thick skinned, the other doesn't want to put all of his eggs in the same basket...
Back to the squash: one game to go; the wretched Buckingham at home.
We need to fill our boots.
We look forward to chastising them on their late arrival and imposing the 'one beer only' rule.
Whilst I was grateful for the scrapings last night (a tasty curry) it seems that Duncan Disorderly has adopted that code for Booker too... Is 'Swallow' really his surname?
Finally, Gazza has asked me to share this link with you.
It's about a girl who pretended to be a boy to succeed at squash.
I can't work out if he's taking the piss out of me or Sam Muller...
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