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The atmosphere, sweaty conditions, restricted room to manoevere, swearing, hair-pulling and spitting were all prominant, but after we got out the changing rooms we were ready to take on the cream of what the other insurance companies could offer.
Well, those who could be arsed showing up anyway.
4 teams took part, each more than capable of "stamping" their authority all over each other; 2 teams being the creatively titled "RSA A" and "RSA B" (that was us by the way). The two other teams were definitely hungry for success, while we were hungry for kebab, chips, curry sauce, 20 Lambert & Butler and a bottle of ginger. Usual Friday night for the lads really.
The first game, between RSA A and RSA B was the belter everybody was expecting. Richard Lee beforehand claimed he would "be going at a helluva cracking speed", in the end he would have created more impact if he started "selling crack and speed".
Final score a deserved 6-3 victory in favour of RSA A, who had just enough skill and guile to easily surpass a bewildered B team, wearing rather fetching "netball-style" bibs (team B were Brian (GK), Richard (GD), Harry (GA), Ronnie (CF) and Iain C (CFC).
I of course say 6-3 because I refuse to count Richard Lee's dubious "equaliser", which clearly smashed into the side net. If the referee actually knew Richard's previous form, he would surely have known there was NO WAY he would have EVER hit the target from 12 yards range. I think the phrase goes, "couldn't hit a coos arse with a banjo". or something.
Anyway, suffice to say, a stirring encounter in the sweltering 15-degree heat ended with RSA A (Colin, Chris, Fraser, Martin D, Bairdy) romping home easily.
Top goal undoubtedly The Writers effort, following a stunning breakaway sucker-punch type move. A real "brahmer" even if I do say so myself.
Due to sheer exhaustion, the next few games were a bit hazy, but RSA A, needing to build on their opening glorious victory, celebrated a tad prematurely after going ahead against the Endsleigh Gorrilas, who were out to mame anybody who got in their way, but eventually lost in a fairly tight game.
RSA B took on AXA, and needing a win to keep their hopes alive, finally played sensational stuff and gubbed them by 3-4 goals.
So, the situation was tighter than The Writers notorious faded grey underpants - each team after two games had won one and lost one, so it all went down to the final games to determine the champs. Only problem was RSA were really struggling to stay alive, quite literally, and were by this point choking for a pint.
The heat was causing so much delerium in the ranks somebody even claimed to have seen Harry PASS the ball!
RSA A came up against AXA, and despite going two goals up (causing Fraser to crack open the 10 regal king size), we eventually lost after cramp and gangreen began to set in. Bairdy had that "close to death" smell about him too.
So that was our title hopes down the tubes. It now remained down to RSA B to take on Endsleigh (aka Basher McTurk and The Gasworks Gang) and try attempt the impossible victory.
Despite giving 150% (and you can't ask for more than that), they were eventually beaten by the "three knockdowns in a round" rule.
The result might have been soooooooo different had the ref been anything less than a total w*nker, initally sending off one of their lot for deliberate handball, and then amazingly calling him back onto the park, saying "just kidding". Madness.
Anyway, suffice to say, with a bit more finess, fitness, and lucozade
tablets we may just carry off a famous victory next year. Unlucky
lads.