Griffins 31 - 14 Tai Po Dragons 1st XV

The Kicking Game
Inspired by Brien “Wiper” Keegan’s grand defense of his game-day tactics in last week’s match report, I would like to continue this week on a similar vein. We all know, or at least suspect, that kicking might in some way be an important component of the game. We have all seen people try it (to varying degrees of success), we always force some unfortunate back to do it for penalties and conversions, and we’ve even occasionally managed to put up some points that way. But the where, when and WHO remains a tactical mystery to some of the softer-minded among us (read:forwards). The urge to kick acts like some insidious virus (clearly fueled by hair gel and perfume given its swift and powerful impact on backs), as infectious to everyone as the bugs that inhabit KP1’s pitch, Scum’s locker room and Father Craig’s budgie smugglers.

We started Saturday’s match against the Tai Po Dragons with kicking on the mind, thinking that after getting our bonus points up on the board we might try to work on getting “The Gingerer” Tom into position for some shots at a drop goal. I mean, how hard could it be? From the looks of the opposition, if you could deadlift Boris once at Cheung Chau, you could do a set of 10 reps with their entire pack. And the match certainly started out that way. What Godzilla did to little Japanese guys in Tokyo in the 70’s Winton, Toby and Boris did to little Chinese guys in Kowloon on Saturday. Never to be confused with a hot knife through butter, our forwards went through their line like butter-eating Panzers through French infantry. The crunching sounds were clearly audible from the sidelines as Boris “the Meat Hammer” Niethammer and then Winton “These Loafers Are Made for Stomping” de St John Pryce juggernauted their way through a dozen tiny Dragons for our first two tries.

More surprising than the fact it took us 15 minutes to go up 12-0 was the fact that at the 15 minute mark Tai Po still had 15 guys on the pitch. More than once I looked down under someone’s boot to see one of their guys on his back with crossed eyes, a bloody nose and grey fluid dripping from his ear – only to find that the same guy had beaten me to the next breakdown and was now viciously tackling my knees from an offside position. They were certainly a scrappy bunch and to their credit did not give up. Helped by the unseasonable 35 degree heat, they began to rely on viscous tactics and one of the cruelest tricks in the book – they kicked, they ran and they DENIED US A FIRST HALF WATER BREAK! Never have I seen such ungentlemanly play.

And as the sweat dried up and the dust filled our lungs the mistakes started creeping in. Kicks for touch could not find the sideline if we’d attached a homing beacon and a guided missile package to the ball and kicked it while straddling the chalk. We slowed to the breakdowns while they sped up. Our only saving grace was that every TPD kick seemed to land in the hands of Ash “You Can’t” Metuschka “This,” who returned 13 balls in a row back inside their 22 and a 14th in for a try.

As always, this season’s back line added a new dimension to our game. In fact, they’ve added two new dimensions this season – side to side and up in the air. And while it is impressive to watch, I think most of the forwards would agree that we prefer if that’s all we had to do – watch. As the backs distributed the ball wide and defended tenaciously, they seemed to find sadistic glee in watching the forwards rack up more running miles than Arrann “Why Do I Do This To Myself” Young was preparing to trot in NYC the next day. As cracks in the armor began to appear, the Dragons made two quick breakaways that seemed to breathe life back into their second half effort. Fortunately, after taking quick ball from Dave “Goin’ Shopping” Ashton-Hogwart-StPeter-vonBergen-Cromartie-Winchester-St.Germain-Vasco-DeGama the Third, Andre “the Pale Pele” Andrade was able to cycle through his entire repertoire of fancy moves, soccer-style rainbow kicks, Brazilian volleyball leaps and every other manner in which to cock up a try before tripping over the line to knock the wind out of Tai Po’s sails.

With all of the new “tactical” kicking that was being throw into the game plan with the forethought and coherence of an email from Antony Desir, it is no wonder that the very sound of someone’s boot on the ball began to grate on the pack. When one of our own forwards finally attempted to pull a ball out of the ruck and kick it into touch (Where do you mark the ball if you kick from in front of your 22 but it goes out inside your 22…?) I couldn’t do anything except fire my ultra-strong frown beam at him while actually thinking “thank you for stopping play for 10 seconds so I can catch my breath and puke into my own mouth.” I was clearly gassed and gutted, struggling for air and yet just moments later I looked down to find the ball in my hands.

And that’s when the bug hit me. As tunnel vision rapidly closed in, all I could see was one defender in front of me and what appeared to be a white line only 3 or 4 feet behind him (which Arrann will be quick to note that I could not have reached even if I fell forward with my body completely extended). I got a bit feverish. The voices on either side that would later claim to have been screaming for the ball seemed to be whispering “go for it.” I looked down at the ball and it seemed to look oddly like someone’s head, triggering my natural instinct... I kicked that **th**f***e*.

Up and over.
Straight into the open space.
Which all of a sudden appeared to be not 3 or 4 meters from the try zone but 40 meters and shrinking in the distance.
And suddenly not so much open as filled with a bunch of speedy little dudes screaming at each other in Cantonese.

Needless to say, I did not find the glory I had been seeking. Fortunately someone stuffed the little bastard that stole that ball out from under me and we turned it around in a couple of phases to let Ro-“Row Row Your Boat”-shan Julian jam the ball right through their centers for our final try. The way it’s supposed to be done.

And that is this week’s lesson, lads. There are no “almost” kicks. You are a hero if you make it and a zero the second you don’t. Some guys have a shot at it and the rest of us should know better. “The Gingerer” Tom Duffy has a shot (3 for 5 on conversions after a solid performance last week as well!). Freddie “Fk you Tony I will kick whenever I want because I know when and how to kick” Burger has a shot. James “That Guy was a Nine!?” Parsons has more of a cannon than a shot, but it’s still a shot. Forwards should just save their boots for the opposition.

P.S. I would be remiss if I didn’t also recap some quotable highlights from after the match as well:

Paddy “The Fiddler” Shepard on how to get the most out of your post-match shower (announced out loud to the entire men’s locker room at THT): “Sometimes you’ve got to fiddle with the knob.”

Recon “The Ginger” Tom on his favorite post-match ritual: “Dry or not, it’s coming in.”

Arrann “Slower Than Oprah” Young on finishing the New York Marathon: “Thank god that is over - my knees feel like I’ve been servicing the glory hole in a truck stop restroom all night. Again.”

Most importantly, thanks to all of the Griffs’ support with post-match T-shirts and events the Griffins were able to raise over HKD5000 in support of two very worthy charities. This is the hallmark of a great team gents – tough on the pitch, ready to go off the pitch, and always up for a worthwhile cause. Thanks.

I will never again kick during a match. I will never again kick during a match. I will never again kick during a match.
I will never again kick during a match. I will never again kick during a match. I will never again kick during a match.
I will never again kick during a match. I will never again kick during a match. I will never again kick during a match.
I will never again…