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Finally after several weeks of cancelled games due to water-logged pitches, conditions were perfect for a good ‘ole game of rugger. Both teams arrived with depleted squads and the outcome was less than certain, a fact promulgated by the first 25 minutes of the game.
Woking started the proceedings with a wonderful kick-off and, like fleas on speed, harassed and harangued the opposition deep into their 22. Wave after wave, the Woking forwards pummelled into the opposition and, after a full ten minutes were finally repelled with gusto.
Having taken a lambasting to both body and soul, Old Oundels sought retribution and , not be out-done, spent the next quarter camped in the Woking 22, dishing out every ounce of the putrid ferocity they had themselves absorbed. Woking; bashed, beaten and bloodied, their resolve dwindling and that small glimmer of hope fading into a mire of lost opportunities, strove to overcome the unceasing onslaught and, through sheer obstinacy and dogged determination, managed to clear their lines.
Working their way back up the field, the theme tune to Rocky hanging in the air, each ruck forming perfectly to the beat of the ubiquitous soundtrack, the try-line drew ever nearer. Phase after phase, blow after blow, the dirty job being done by the forwards and the flair brought forth by the backs combined for a potent and unstoppable force. Finally, after wearing down the defence, the ball found itself in the supple hands and Ryan “Mylie Cyrus” England, who crashed over the line like a wrecking ball to start off the scoring. Elation erupted through the team; the moment of excitement too much for some that even captain Adam Smith let loose a shrill squeal, an ear-splitting screech of joy emanating deep from within.
Determined to be no one’s fool, Old Oundels launched their own barrage from the kick-off, earning themselves a penalty which was sweetly slotted by the fly-half, much to the chagrin of Captain Smith who had only just witnessed in utter disbelief, a missed penalty from Woking’s own number 10.
Biting at their heels like rabid hamsters, Old Oundels pounced on every opportunity given to them by Woking errors and, shortly before half time, weaselled their way in for a try in the corner, taking a slender lead.
The second half was much the same as the first and each lunge by the Woking machine was parried with equal potency. The stage set for a climactic finale, each team sought ascendency where there was none. Outstanding performances from the forwards were led by Woking’s resident paramedic and blindside flanker, who, through armadillo-like defence earned himself the man-of-the match honours. Not so much could be said for fullback Chris Wallis, who, for reasons best left unsaid, ended the day with a slightly less honourable award.
True to form, Mylie Cyrus made another appearance for what must surely have been considered a “man” of the match performance. With little room and less patience, he received the ball in those soft, smooth hands and charged over the line like a demented rhino.
Old Oundels took this in their stride and, in quick succession, undid all of Woking’s hard work with two well-worked tries of their own.
Only minutes remaining before the end of the game and camped once again in the opposition 22, Woking piled on the pressure for their final onslaught. Sadly, a multitude of errors were their final undoing and Woking were left to rue their inability to finish off a game.
It was a hard fought game and the scars of battle were evident on Captain Adam Smith, once voted Woking’s most handsome man, for his post-match briefing: “We had the ascendency, we had the opportunities. Still, we let ourselves down with our basic skills and have paid the price. The opposition deserve credit for not giving up and taking their opportunities.”