Old Bedes beat Procter Family

It’s fair to say that Clitheroe have not had their troubles to seek this past week.
No sooner had the Skipper been bemoaning the lack of a consistent and settled team. Then the gods of trouble and strife had him dispatched to a Far Eastern oil rig to mend broken taps and valves. Worse than that chunky centre Chris Waddington decided his pallid complexion needed a bit of a boost pre Christmas, and before you could say Leg Before Wi.....he’s sunning himself on the bleachers observing Cook-ies boys take another Aussie pounding. What do you expect, playing cricket in December?

Two down and plenty more have gone awol; Butcher Boy Hayton working late fettling turkeys, made last minute rush for the reserves. Several SOS calls made by stand in Skip Davy Watson to no avail. ‘Sorry mate bad back/elbow/leg’ or ‘only at home this week pal.’

Hmmmm thinking caps on... I know: John Harry Pundy Procter, that four square proper prop. Now there’s a man who can; and bring some lads with you. OK, says our man. Hey presto positions filled and faces saved all round.

Well done Big J. And Craig. And Mark.

So down to Didsbury we went, to the agreeably appointed Old Bedians RFC sports complex. All seemed rather tranquil in leafy South Manchester.

Some slight consternation in the dressing room. Mattie Bartle, fresh from a punishing round of golf with sometime prop Big Ben Graves, unexpectedly has a migraine headache. Was it the sudden realisation he was back in the 1st XV after a long absence, or was it the just the realisation that he was actually playing rugby again after that public retirement speech.

Move over Sinatra, our man does proper come backs.

So with idea of an afternoon trawling the wine bars of Wilmslow just a distant pipe dream, the maroon and gold’s set to work. And to be fair they didn’t half work. Not just as individuals but as a team, a bit disjointed at times but they were all pulling in the same direction.

Unfortunately Bedes were more of a settled outfit. Much more. Both halves were equal in scoring, which says something. Not entirely sure what, but probably means every man jack gave there all for the full eighty minutes.

There was small in stature, big of heart, Wayne Latham. Fairly new to the delights of egg chasing, but that didn’t deter him one tiny bit. Little ball to run and show his pace but plenty of mini exocet tackles. Up and at ‘em ‘John’ Wayne!

Then, the youngest of the Procter clan, Craig. Is he a prop? Flanker? No, today I am a centre. No worries, give me the ball. Forward only.

And what about Craigs cousin Mark Harrison?[pic] Plucked from an easy chair ride with 2nds into the boiler room of the 1st team second row, along side Jake Shorrock, both having the games of their lives. A bang on the shoulder from another tackle didn’t discourage him. ‘you ok Mark?’ enquires the Coach. ‘aye, it’ll be reet’ as he trots of to rejoin the fray.

Our tame Kiwi Darren Eagle, was hobbling with a hamstring after five minutes. But I’m sure it improved his game. It stopped him loitering on the wing as much anyway, and he gamely hung about till being subbed by almost equally crocked Ross Chamberlain. A like for like replacement anyway!

What can you say about Stuart Railton?
Stop! This is for family reading.
Full back this time, but anywhere in the three quarters for Mr Dependable. The dancing feet made an all too brief appearance, but there was still time for a cameo jink and swerve, with the odd soft shoe shuffle thrown in, to quicken the pulse of the expectant crowd.

Talking of dependable; then you think of the substitute Skipper Watson. A canny operator, under the distinguished salt and pepper thatch. A voice of calm and reason in the middle of a sea of mud, sweat and occasional tears. Maybe he’s lost just half a yard of pace over the decades. But he’s still ‘got it’. Good man, and good Club man Dave.

The pack made a decent fist of the set scrums, and were dependable at line out time, but there was a bit too much pace in the loose for the Clitheroe boys.

The home side rather unfairly, had an annoyingly youthful and quick centre, with a side step to die for. Tackle him! Went up the cry. Easier said than done when you’re grasping at shadows.

So not even close and definitely no cigars; maybe a sneaky drag on a Woodbine behind the bike sheds a reward for the 16 brave bonny lads who did themselves and the maroon and gold hoops proud.

Well, maybe one to put down to experience. Bedes were magnanimous in victory and at least Clitheroe won the man of the match pint drink off. So a win in the third half for the Littlemoor lads.

Newton le Willows are the visitors on Saturday [2:15 ko]. Game of rugby anyone?!