The West Potomac Rugby Football Club played James River of the VRU.
"I'm going to put my d!ck in your ear." - Ali
"Hey
here's my number - I'm number 9 - What's yours?" - Matt J.
"I will ****
you all night like you have never been ****ed before and then drive you home to
DC in the morning" - desperate woman to Jim Bo
"I shoulda stayed shouldn't
I?" - Jim Bo 10 miles later
With quotes like those I do not have to tell you - it was a physical game and an even more physical party.
WPRFC got down there in force - despite the bad directions (a trend this spring). Evidently the hicks down there don't know their left from their right. Yours truly drove a full van - Keith from Montana, Drew, Jim Bo, Jack and Goody w/ Dain and friend following.
In honor of the finer points of the South the historian played music by The Band - amidst complaints from the musically illiterate regarding "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down". Eventually, "Up on Cripple Creek" and "The Weight" won them over. Not that you care - you are waiting to hear about Jim Bo at the party - patience - in due time.
I was eagerly anticipating playing with Keith (from Montana) at scrum half. A visiting player with many years of experience he would have been an interesting addition. Instead he was the ref. James River had kindly forgotten to provide one.
The game was rather brutal - and hotter than expected for mid-March. And who cares about details anyway. Let's just say the following were the more interesting moments:
Matt J. and I fell over a guy in the midst of tackling him - I landed on the guy - Matt was just a bit beyond him. I see the guy reach up and GRAB Matt's - um - oh - how do I put it - well let's just say it is a good thing Betsy is already pregnant. Matt replied by putting his boot ever so gently against the young man's face and softly, ever so softly, pushing him away. At the end of the pile he claimed that Matthew had kicked him in the face prior to the - well - incident with the jewels.
I cannot say either way. I looked up and that was the first I saw. Of course Matt may have stepped on something going from one side of the man to the other. But pretty soon Matt was yelling at the player in question - "Hey here's my number - I'm number 9 - What's yours?"
It gets worse. During the course of later events (or was it earlier- oh nevermind) Wes T. was somehow near the ball when a penalty occurred. Now Wes, being the quick lad that he is, jumped up ran 10 meters back and then ran in and tackled the player who had restart play run five meters right - then back left.
Of course, the ref, having his back turned thought Wes had never in fact moved from the spot of the penalty and had done something dreadful - like leg whip or trip the player - to prevent the quick start from working.
The James River player in question, let's call him "red headed step child", was accosting poor Wes (who had just run 20 meters in world record time). And so big bro Ali HAD to get involved. By the time things were quieted and the teams separated Ali could be heard to say, "I'm going to put my d!ck in your ear."
And, of course, BFD's nose bled again when Chuck - during a break turned around and hit it with his elbow.
Poor Keith from Montana. He thought he was going to play and ended up being a ref - of one of the ugliest games on record.
The after party started off slow enough - with good food (hot dogs, nacho makings and a wonderful pasta salad) and beer. Somewhere in there Chuck was made "Man of the Match" - I hope it wasn't for hitting me in the nose. I stepped out back into a private courtyard with my college roommate to talk old times. Soon the whole group was out back.
We drank and talked and eventually - we sang baby. And Ken J. broke his lent vows by having to do a boot - don't sing if you don't know the words. Goody performed several boots and in general WPRFC outperformed James River.
Of course, we will never forget the one James River singer who, with Irish brogue, sang a lovely little ditty that went something like this...okay I was too drunk.
Everyone eventually went their separate ways - it got quiet. Too quiet. It was time to turn it up a notch. Drawing an ever larger crowd Goody performed the "12 Days of Rugby" - twice. Then Jim Bo led us in a rowdy "Days of the Week" to the amusement of James River and the bar owner who asked us to sing louder so she could hear up front. Then Goody sang "12 Days of Rugby" - again (by now we have been through 36 days of rugby). We did shots, we drank, we rocked. I stayed sober to drive.
Pretty soon Jim Bo and two unidentified miscreants were in deep philosophical discussions with a young but desperate and horny woman. Something to the effect of:
"Honey, you want me you got to do my friend too."
"But I'm shy."
"We won't look."
With Goody spent and the rest pretty far gone we piled back in the van. And waited for Jim Bo who was saying a long good-bye to the Southern maiden in question. Who had an apartment just around the corner. Their final conversation was something like this...
"If you stay I will <censored>"
"Oh I don't know."
"I will go <censored> and make you as <censored> and then <censored>."
"Uh ..." <let me insert in his defense - his girlfriend is much better looking>
"I will **** you all night like you have never been ****ed before and then drive you home to DC in the morning."
He stepped outside to ask my advice in the manner. I suggested going home and making a booty call - better looking, less psycho and he has to make the trip home sometime. He concurred.
We got in the van and drove away. After we got about three blocks Goody called out, "Are we there yet?" After six blocks I told Jim Bo he shoulda stayed. After nine blocks the rest of the car was sick of hearing him talk about it. Drew told Jim he had until we merged onto the highway to talk about it then he had to stop.
We of course stopped at my ole college - Randolph Macon College - on the way home. Jim Bo shoplifted. Something worth $.49. It's the thought that counts.
Another party won. POTOMAC!
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