A match was played at Moore Park this Saturday past, featuring a ragtag bunch of has-beens, wannabes and never-weres from Victoria taking on a gang of heavy-hitting Sydney locals. This was, of course, the inaugural meeting between the Rebel Army and the GAGR-Tahs — a touch-footy battle for the Kurtley Beale Memorial Trophy, which commemorates its namesake’s 2011 decision to leave the Waratahs for the Rebels.
This landmark event got off to a pretty casual start. People were wandering onto the field and introducing themselves left, right and centre: some in Green and Gold Rugby shirts, some in civvies — but all wearing shirts, mercifully. As is the case when online communities meet up, each individual would have to introduce himself as, say, “Stuart” — and then have to add “FiveStarStu from the forum” and “@StuartFaz on Twitter” before hands were shaken and backs slapped.
When game time rolled around, the local boys had clear advantages: to start with, a ring-in, ACT Crusader – who besides being well under the requisite 100 kilograms, was not even a Tahs supporter. ACT wore long compression skins, and was in shape (unlike a lot of us, who could only be called “in shape” if the shape were “round”). The GAGR-Tahs’ other advantage was a lack of jetlag. All bar three of the Rebel Army contingent were suffering ill-effects of flying with budget airlines that day. Your correspondent was doing it especially tough, as he had just played a game of rugby with Hunters Hill (replacing Sosene Anesi, who had been named for the Tahs that evening) and had also walked several kilometres toting a full Esky and his footy kit, having learned the hard way about the trials of trying to navigate and park in the Moore Park precinct.
In a masterstroke from the Army strategists, beer was handed out to all and sundry, with whispered instructions to the visitors to nurse their stubbies while the home team were encouraged to slam them down. After a few minutes’ play, several GAGR-Tahs looked like emulating their chundering hero, TPN.
The GAGR-Tahs’ starting line-up consisted of the already-ailing Scarfman, ACT “I’m too fit for this” Crusader, Jay-C, matty_k, rugbysmartarse and Gooch. Scarfy, who obviously used Michael Jordan’s Flu Game as inspiration, made the long trek down from the mountains for the touch match. His man-flu was so severe that he didn’t stick around for the other game being staged in some stadium behind us. Yet he had a massive game, leading from the centres, and making the Rebel Army look like deserters in defence.
Before long the GAGR-Tahs were leading 3–1, and half-time was called when the clock ticked over to 13 minutes and 26 seconds. Waratah Jesus, the self-proclaimed coach of the local side, stumbled up at this point, complaining that the Army had swindled him by telling him to arrive late so as to leave his team leaderless. This story was dismissed as nonsense when everyone smelled the vodka and Lift on his breath. WJ did bring the team uniform: size XXXXL Tah Patrol T-shirts — in white. White, just like the Rebel Army’s away/clash singlet strip. The Army cried foul at the change of uniform; then, as they remembered the critical uniform change in D2: The Mighty Ducks, they became more scared than angry.
For the Army, Nev — who frequently scares small children — was a gun in the first half, along with his Suith Efrikan pairing, Red Boots Morne on the wing. The latter was doing so well that at half-time a new game plan was instituted: give it to Morne and hope for the best. This approach proved fruitful, with Red Boots the first to score after oranges (i.e. beer).
While this Rebelesque fightback gave hope to the men in tight white singlets, the GAGR-Tahs had also triggered their own secret weapons. #1 Tah, who most thought was somebody’s nine-year-old kid, came off the bench, along with “The Panda”. This endangered species seemed to lift his team — literally, through the impact of his crash-landing on the turf. There was a divot near the halfway line marking where Panda’s progress ended. Unfortunately, along with his forward momentum being halted, so was the holding strength of his trousers’ waistband. What was seen can never been unseen.
And thus the comeback faltered. Frankly, the Army’s biggest problem with was a sheer lack of knowledge, skill, speed and talent.
Soon after, the fresh #1 Tah got a quick ball from rugbysmartarse and set sail for the line. Your correspondent (more at home in the tight five but defending the wing at this moment) chased him down. In a gesture of great sportsmanship, I elected not to leap on and squash the lightweight flyer, and instead crashed heavily into the turf. This left me sprawled across the in-goal yelling out for a sub — and being ignored.
The aforementioned rugbysmartarse (once a prop, and now apparently a Maccas taste tester) provided another highlight by grabbing an intercept on the fly and almost making it to the line, falling short by barely 70 metres. Someone remarked that for the first few paces of his sprint he looked like Ben Alexander, and then more like the French Rodney Blake… eventually he managed to make the offload and let someone else finish the job.
The final score? That’s not important. This event was all about sportsmanship, the spirit of rugby, interstate rivalry, beer, free T-shirts, and dodgy Internet hook-ups. And it exceeded expectations on all those scores. For the record, the KB Memorial Trophy is staying in New South Wales for now.
The Rebel Army will have the last word:
The challenge is on! If you are coming to Melbourne, bring a touch team. Or if we are coming to your town, supply one! Canberra, the Army is on its way….
