| Match Report: |
Jets/Giants, Real/Barca, Saints/Tigers – all these derby matches pale into insignificance when compared to Moderns vs. Bridgford. Sure, these others may decide who wins leagues, Superbowls or European cups, but this match decides who gets to run around the watering holes of Bridgford with their (metaphorical, but sometimes literal) Balls swinging around like they own the place… So look out easily offended drinkers of Bridgford, the shared honours in both the 1st and 2nd team matches means there is going to be a lot of testes on the loose!
With the loss of Captain fantastic to a hurty ankle 10 mins before kick off, a rejigged back line and a pre game preparation that would struggle to be allowed to be called a ‘warm up’ under the Trades Description Act, the early signs were ominous. However, a speech from skipper for the day Jim Mcniven, which was like Braveheart written by someone with severe Tourettes, roused some passion and so we set forth to do Bridgford some damage.
Bridgford however, had some different ideas, and with a solid lineout game and a Fly half who possessed a cannon (mind you – he had so much protective equipment on he looked like Robocop, so the cannon is not entirely out of place), Bridgford were more than a match for our expansive endeavour. Ben Hughes at Full back showed some excellent pace to open our account, but a constant stream of penalties awarded by an (lets be polite, as some of them were deserved) ‘inconsistent’ referee handed Bridgford all they territory that they needed, and by half time, they were three tries to the good. This would have been more had Mr Hughes not made The Bridgford 6 his personal bitch for the day and chopped him down twice when he was clean through! Half time: 19 – 7 to Bridgford.
With some reassuring words from the on looking Fitton we came out for the second half knowing exactly what we needed to do, and largely for the first 20 mins, we didn’t do it. The penalty count was much the same, and only some tenacious defence stopped Bridgford from converting territory into points. Then the final 20 minutes came and a sense of urgency that had been missing before kicked in. Modern’s Suave and Ravishing Number 8 used his massive intellect and superb positional play to identify that a second row was about to try and throw a miss pass to a prop, picked the pass off and then proceeded to outpace 5 wingers, 3 Olympic sprinters and even a hungry Cheetah to cross the line, to gasps from the crowd of 'What a hero' and 'I wish my fella was more like him'...
13 minutes to play and Only 5 points in it, and the game was on. However, whilst the urgency and desire had arrived in abundance, the execution remained hurried, and no further break though could be made, until with 30 seconds to play, Moderns had a lineout on halfway with a chance to set a platform up to drive on and get in a position to win the game! England in 2003 showed how simply this could be done, and we started to believe that it was on… Until we lost the lineout.
But, the Bridgford 10 had a little bit of trouble counting down from 30, and he had booted the ball out with time for another lineout – this time we won it, this time we drove infield and upfield for 4 phases, and this time the backs moved the ball along excellently to allow the man of the match Hughes to carve through and show good strength to force his way over the line out wide to equalise with no time left on the clock! With just the conversion to come, the tension was palpable, but it wasn’t to be, and both teams had to settle for a draw that on balance was just about a fair result.
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