The other Match Report is a beery tracker of events taking place on-and-off the courts of the Crusaders Thrusting Third League Squelch of Playa’s and their endeavours to come from behind and wrestle some silverware to the ground The Playas are Russ Mitchell – a devious doctor who rushes, and rustles and never says die, even to his patients Alan Stapleton – a balding,crockety kneed “coach” on the comeback trail Pete Stephens – the leader of the mob. Sneaky Pete is known to ride bike into unknown territories and is very unconventionally confusing and erudite Chris Way – wanders in from East London and does things, his way Morgan Fuller – a Grey Scholar who will become a gentleman. Full of talent which needs to be straightened and touched up Sarah O Grady – the enigmatic daughter of Lisa, who marches to her own drum Di Van Eck – fills in when we are desperate and we try to be desperate often as she adds another slice of beauty to this Beastly bunch vs Gelvandale Pumped up and inspired by The Wall’s epic epistle of The View’s 1st League mauling encounter against the Londt lads, the Thrusting Sader Thirds, cut down to size by Old Grey were galvanized for the Gelvan Goliaths. Like teenagers on a trip to Amsterdam, they licked their lips, and counted their condoms, bristling in anticipation … It was that horrible situation where the 1 and 4 of the opposition and the 2 and 3 of the Homeboys arrived but after a bit of tete-tete, and small talk, we thought we would cut the idle chatter and ….. Pumping Pete took on the I’ve-got-to-go-to-work Noel and it was a messy wham-bam-thank-you-mam affair with lots of loose stuff and lazy lengths. A bit like an old married couple, going through the motions, they pummelled away, without too much loving care but Pete was always on top, and eventually straddled his way to a little 3 lover, with Noel rolling over, sucking a couple of savannahs, and like a furtive lover, headed off into the distance Next into bed, was the lion-hearted Leo against his Bunny playmate, Staple-tin. Tonight, Ronnie was oh-so robust and the Tin, true to his name seemed like he had prepared for this affair by reading 50 Shades of Grey with all sorts of ineffective inventions. Had he stuck to his motto of “ giving it 6 inches”, and “keeping it straight”, he may well have climaxed. But like the afore-mentioned teenagers, with the court’s loving legs wide open and the nick inviting, he far too often, came too soon. While he managed to raise Ronnie to a pant, and a radiant glistening sweat, and also gave him one from behind, his dreams of a 1st win against his nemesis, turned out a wet, sticky and unsatisfactory 1-3 loss. Then into action, it was Chris and Emile Chris , it seemed, was intent on a slow, Sunday afternoon roll in the hay, but Emile had other ideas and was full of evil intent, rushing in and fingering all sorts areas where Chris was most uncomfortable, up high and down below and he just could not get going. Before we could whisper, ‘keep it deep”, Chris had been bent, buckled and blown away into an eggy 0-3. With Gelvan now 6-4 up, it was up to Dr Russ to provide some stiff opposition, to stand firm and upright if a win was to come our way. And he stood tall. As in a gynecological examination, Darryl was spread-eagled around the court as Russ examined every corner and elke hoekie. For 2 games, the Hahn did not appear to know if he was coming or going, and like a rape victim, he seemed shell shocked. But he is made of sterner stuff, and after Ronnie had whispered some soft words into his ear, he came back, straightened his game, and started pumping straight up and down. No frills stuff. Gradually, it was the doctor who was being examined with the final 3 games all going past climax point, both playas held on and, as in good sex, each took their turns to take the lead . Russ at match point, had an opening as wide as a Parisian prostitute pinioned to a palisade, and instead of fiddling around, just one more time, he tried to drive home the advantage. Straight onto Darryl’s racquet, and then he was a spent force as he came second, conceding a 6-9 ( a suitable number I suppose) defeat to the Gelvan Guzzlers But the Thrusters are grizzled fellows, and it was not a case of turning over and snoring off to sleep. Naah, after a handful of Hansas and a couple of conciliatory Castle jabulis, they went off in search of more hot fowls and these were to be found, spread-eagled spatchcocks at Fernando’s and a doppietjie rooi wyn rounded off an unsuccessfully pleasant evening. Still in search of silverware, but that might be becoming a bit out-of-reach, and The Thrusting Thirds might just have to bow down or buy a blow up doll and take 2nd best – whatever that may be, for you.
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The other Match Report is a beery tracker of events taking place on-and-off the courts of the Crusaders Thrusting Third League Squelch of Playa’s and their endeavours to come from behind and wrestle some silverware to the ground The Playas are Russ Mitchell – a devious doctor who rushes, and rustles and never says die, even to his patients Alan Stapleton – a balding,crockety kneed “coach” on the comeback trail Pete Stephens – the leader of the mob. Sneaky Pete is known to ride bike into unknown territories and is very unconventionally confusing and erudite Chris Way – wanders in from East London and does things, his way Morgan Fuller – a Grey Scholar who will become a gentleman. Full of talent which needs to be straightened and touched up Sarah O Grady – the enigmatic daughter of Lisa, who marches to her own drum Di Van Eck – fills in when we are desperate and we try to be desperate often as she adds another slice of beauty to this Beastly bunch The other Match Report: vs NMMU The trusty thrusting Thirds placed around about third in the thirsty third league ( with still some results to be logged – see attached) stepped bravely into the 2nd half, brimming with confidence and believing that the silverware is within reach Down at NMMU. the Crown Princess of EP squash, the sultry Sarah, led the way , as Chris was not playing . Back on the comeback trail after time in the wilderness, Sarah led the unconventional Deon down a devious path of lobs and drops, mixed with some drilling drives. And though she too, went tweedledee and tweedledum, what shall I do for fun, walk about for awhile, her team-mates were always confident in her 3-2 kick-start. Pete the Pedalman peddled into a warrelling Wubbe-storm , filled with electrifying nicks and thunderous tins, and blustery crosscourts. But aLEX, had about as much direction as Pete on his cycling escapades through the bushes, AND Pete, as patient as the Pied Piper weathered the storm, and reeled the young man, as he whistled his way to to a tight 3-2 victory The Staple-knee, all braced up and bubbling like a baby at the chance to grit his teeth back into the lofty realms of league squash, cartilaged his way back with a gnarled display of reverse logistics. Not twisting and turning that gracefully himself, he twisted and turned and gristled the Khan man, distant cousin to Jahangir and Jansher with an array of reverse angles and arguments that saw a tiumphant smile at the end of 4 games And the rampant, rabid Russell was far to sprightly for the young William, who to tell the truth, has much to offer if he could shoot straighter, and play with less dazzle. But Russ was on a roll, and before the Staple-knee had finished washing his beautiful body, the match was overs cadova's and the boeries and beers and bullshit beckoned. And there was lots of it, with tales from Grahamstown and schoolboy heroics. Result from the first round reversed. So to the Woolstaplers, waiting to be shorn, as the Thrusters thearch circumspectly for glory The other Match Report: vs Woolstaplers As the Thrusting Thirds gathered at the Crusader Castle, there was a sense of positive energy that exuded as they knighted up for their clash against the Wooly-staplers. Lances were lanced and shears were ready and it was the young guns, Morgan, so-full-of-potential Fuller against the probably even more exciting, Juandre Venter who launched first into battle. So exciting to see talent like this, and EP Squash will see and hear lots more of these 2 if they can stay motivated. Lots of loose stuff in between some incredible retrieving. But some serious work required on short game skills. The Fuller-knight had his hands full, but weathered the storm to push the Thrusters noses ahead. Then, it was Brother Shawn against the Staple-steed, in the Battle of the Baldies where both combatants bravely took some body-shots in a very friendly contest. The Braced One, had some nervous moments when the Oh So Sporting Strydom, came fighting back to steal the third, but The Ton steadied his pony, and cantered through in the 4th. Dr Russ was next up against the hard-running, hard living Deon. After a jittery start, the “good doc” eventually had just too many needles in his bag and a little more squash class to out-wit the Claasens man in a woer-woer whoopity-woo, catch-me-if-you-can encounter. But the best was saved for last. With the wiry windhond Greyling pitted against the slower-moving Way. There was lots of bumping and blocking but with Chris crisply cutting things off and sending Pierre steadfastly scuttling into that back hand corner, he found a way,used the high way and did it his way to clinch the 5-set clanger. Celebrations were muted with both young Claasen and Venter having to hurry, the others tarried for awhile over a boerie. The group was beautified by the arrival of the ebullient Elvira before all bade farewell for an early evening.Another 1st round result reversed and another 12- pointer in the bag. The Woolstaplers shorn and The Thrusters, thriving. The other Match Report: vs Old Grey A Squash and Sport has a beautiful way of tripping one up whenever one gets a little cocky. And the Thrusting Thirds had their balls squeezed a little last Wednesday, when, all cockahoop after whacking 2 twelvers into their wallets, they were vasectomized, and snipped down to size by the Old Grey A-span. Fulla-talent Morgan met up witha slippery opponent in school-mate Greg Butters in what appeared to be a Grey Olympian Challenge. There was no quarter given in this cut-and-thrust encounter where predictions would have been stoopid as the balance swayed from side-to-side and concentration levels rose and waned but it was the man with the softer touch, the Butter-man who slid through, eventually, quite easily, 3-1. Then… the… pace…s…l…o…w…e…d as the 2 war horses, Stapey and Scotty, both with Scottish ancestry, and still battered and bruised from the Battle of Britain lobbed bombs on each other in a furiously slow and manically soft paced strategic manouevre where out-witting was more important than out-hitting, and it eventually, it was the Staple-drop who called check-mate at 3-1 before the 2 mates meandered off for a well-deserved malt or 7.
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The Official Match Report Saders A beat Londt Park B: 12 - 2 Saders A team ( The Aze) ( The Cast) : Jacques Theron - often unavailable because of Hockey and 1st League commitments< Brendan O Grady ( Rusty,Jinga Ninja), Steve Driscol ( Stevie D,Drisco, Poppa Steve) Neale Emslie ( Bushbuck,Buck,Captain Fantastic), Alan Stapleton ( Stapes, Staple - any other suitable suffix) Plus: The Saders Beze, The Saders Ceze, and various other Squash folk in PE *********************************************** The Final Round of the 1st Half was a Grand, Sad, Successful but Disappointing evening for the Saders men . After losing last week to the Londt A Gals and Guys, the Aze brought the wrath of Bushbuck and his harem of angels down on the poor Londt B Bunch. Soundly scolded by their Captain Fantastic prior to their matches for scarring the tins of the town, lapses in concentration, no commitment, poor dress sense, sloppy hygiene, lack of discipline, too many fancy shots, too many reverse angles ( where he gets that from I do not know), late racquet preparation, not recovering to the tee et al, both Stevie D and Staple-face showed no mercy in scuttling Elbie and the Stormin Norman for egg-like figures. The Scribe saw little of Stevie’s match as he arrived a tad late from coaching, and after his scolding, was ushered, still stiff, onto the court, but apparently that Man of No Bad Thoughts, Driscol was in devastating form. Staple-face was not at his most brilliant best but did what was required amidst, and despite the heckling from an injured and crippled Westview fellow who is probably destined for 5th League if his injuries persist, and his fellow-Westviewians continue to improve as they have, while he has lingered with torn and tattered muscles and dreams of one day playing for the Bulls. And then the black-socked Buck , like a Collusus, bestrode the court, but it appeared as if the ferocity of his admonitions of his underling team-mates had drained him, as he slowly bullocked behind a sprightly young ex-Rhodian, Chris, squandering the 1st game amidst a spree of tins, half courts and half lobs. Accustomed to his wizardry, we watched in bemused wander as tonight he appeared to be a wizard without a wand. But, guided, and goaded by his confidence-building,empathic team-mates, he raised his game, literally and figuratively, and eventually had the Legal-eagle, circling in squirkles, and dizzy with frustration. Our Jinga, as always, busy and bustling, then took on the School-lad from Westering, intent on teaching lessons, and there was nothing cunninglis about this match. Amidst some cute looking touches and swishy shots, which earned the youngster a game, there was not much consistency, and he was bullied off the court and sent to his corner as Mad Mike and Big Bad Brad arrived from their clash, all Hansa’d up and ready to rule, and rock. There had been a Black Out in the Hage so the Swifts lads were left in the dark, and what will be happening to them, is still in the Courts of Lisa So it was a twelve for the Aze, who were taking delight in watching our friends (for tonight) from Westview steal points from, and almost whack the title-contending Londt Park Aze. And we were concerned that Mad Mike was going to start whacking himself as he oozled over the lovely Lizelle as she succumbed to the erratically brilliant Thiel. But that was the end of the Grand and Successful side of the evening Amid news that there was more hiroshimic drama happening at the Saders Castle where the 3rd of the One-Eye party, the mild, meek and fight-hating Adair was being accused of cheating and his better half, being accused of alcohol abuse by a Barnard-Bozo from Londt Park , we set off for the pre-arranged rendezvous with the Aze, Beze and Ceze at the Keg and Swan. A Half Yearly celebration of friendship, good yarns and yards of laughter awaited. But it was not to be. DROWNED by an indefatigable and loud wailing Chinaman determined to impress family , fools and relatives, discussion, debate, and dilemmas to be resolved, ground to a LOUD, thumping halt. Added to this, the Aze and the Beze had been stood up by the cruel, heartless and unfeeling Ceze who warmly chowed at their Walmer hosts, oblivious to the needs and desires of their Squashing Colleagues. We do not even know their result. So it was Chow-in-silence and Go, and Staple-face, who it must be admitted, had devious thoughts of deviating to the scene of his victory, to whet his thirsty whistle once again. But supposed sanity prevailed and he passed Go, and committed the childishly silly, schoolboy error of arriving home BEFORE his nocturnal rambling children AND his long-suffering wife, who had been painting the town red with her artist friends. And so with a 3-or-4 point cushion, the Aze and their Knights of the Saders Squash Table friends peer though miserable mists into a period of loneliness as their beloved castle is torn down and they are faced with 6 weeks of devastating desolation. De-tox, Re-hab, No courts, No quarts, No haranguing, no Hansa’s. Woe is us. Hopefully their allies from around the town will be inviting them to kuier at their courts, sit at their tables, and teach them lobbing lessons, discuss devious dropshots and swallow sacks of those beautiful beverages that sustain sanity and sexual arousal. The 2nd Half awaits, the enemies await. But,if our injured soldiers of the Strydom ,Reekie and Cusse clan return, and if we can capture that cheery Clayton Cherry, we can take them on and fight in our re-furbished courts, we can fight them on the beaches, and we can fight them on the lands. It will be long. It will be hard. But there will be no withdrawal. And victorious celebrations await in the fields of St Francis.
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The Staple-duck found himself being pummelled and panno’ed around the other Match Court at The View last night, as he kicked off the tussle between the Bleery –eyed B Boys and the Swift Men . But superior fitness and a rampage of reverse angles saw him sneaking through against The Running, Windhoek-Lite Guzzling Greek. There were 2 great matches last night. The 1st was between, 2 of the most talented players in the province. The sweatless, sweet-striking Brindley-Bru against the floppy-wristed, fetching talents of die jong Jacques . This was a 4-beer, including a shower, match, which could have swung either way as the 2 young gladiators scurried and parried and lobbed and dropped each other around the cooking cauldron of Court 4. Forbes found a couple more nicks to pull through to even the screeching rubber. Then it was over to the that Cusse-man with the Bendy Body to take on Big Gar-Smith. Tastefully colour- coded in yellow by the adorable Abi, Smith pounded that G-spot in the Nick area, but a bit like an inexperienced lover, lacked patience, understanding and a desire to make things last, And so it was over to the Rushing Doctor to examine and diagnose the frailties of the technique of talented Jason Barker . In tandem, Pete Stephens was a man on a mission against the gutsy and gritty Papa Marais. So 17 points bagged, and this boisterous bunch of beauties bound forward to the final encounter against their B-team LP counterparts next week. And if the plans go according to plan, there might just be a chance of a Silver Medal hanging around their necks !! That is, if the Austentatious skills of the A-Span can outwit the grueling fitness of the Londt Park A’s. Bushbuck’s boys marched on last night , but so committed to my team, was I, and working on my fitness chasing up and down the stairs for beers for Panna and me that I did not get to watch much. Buck seemed a bit bemused with Mr. Parry’s unconventional style, but in customary un-fussed style, breezed through and Bradders and Striker and Stevie D seemed intent on taking no prisoners. The clash between the Calitz and the Big Bad Brad however had the crowds ahush, and fingers gripping the steel frames of the gallery. A see-saw woer-moer event which eventually saw the golf-toughened mind of the Muller survive for a sweet little 19-pointer for the A’s And then in typical unselfish Saders style,sacrificing special time with their loving wives and lovers, both sides gathered to support The View in funding their pub, and to support the opposition in the before-mentioned other Clash of the Night. Lusty Lance Peterson vs the Warrior-like Warren Watermeyer. And things looked gloomy for the top-seeded Londt Park lads as they looked like lapsing 3 more points in their chase to catch the St Georges-based boys as Lance surged to a 2-0 lead. But it was not to be,and as they tussled on the court, the Saders boys tussled to buy rounds as Warren fought his way back from the wilderness to eventually run the legs off unlucky Lance. Another round circled the evening, as more sides were selected with players positioning themselves for the Winter Leagues, and the boys sauntered homewards with a Green and Gold Summer League finale in their sights.
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Saders Go for Gold in Goffer league In the serene and hallowed settings of the Saders Squash arena – watch this space according to the knowledgeable and brainy Bradshaw – the Awesomely Arrogant A-Span swiftly dispatched with the boys from the Hage, with Bushbuck in a particularly brutal sub-20 minute but unthirsty mood, sending the ebullient Eldrin home, a tad earlier than he anticipated. Backed up by Brad, who had to skirt around Abbi’s Dad’s wheel chair, and Bradders, who once he discovered the errors of his smash-bash tactics and wanded the ball , softly into the heavenly heights, had the brilliantly brilliant Brynly running past the ball and and percussioning the tin. Striker , with that devilish forehand was unforgiving with the jaw-struck Jason, but slunk off early to settle homely affairs, as did Papa Steve, in lieu of some breast feeding. So the A-Span marches forward, to an enticing clash with the Londies A Span, who battled with the Beer and Boob Loving B-Team Boys And it may be them who should raise the trophy next Wednesday, as they may well have set things up for the A-Span by brazenly robbing the Fernglen fellows of some valuable points which they may rue come Wednesday next week. Our Trumpet-blowing Jacques was not at his bugle-blowing best, and only found the tune in the 3rd. But Warren, the Preacher-man, at some stages, was looking heaven-wards for help, once Jacques rolled his drums, lengthened his length and unfirled those funny little boasts. He just seems to get better every week that young man. I fear that my last win against him will be my last. The Rushing Russ, leveled matters with a breath-taking braak-ful bombardement of big-talented young Bigge, the cussing Cusse and haughty Hall called for the help of the Markers Forum in a frenetic,and bruising scramble where the BMW man had his chances, but his body could just not get him past the bends, and then Sneaky Pete had the Jaeger-man, teetering on some tequilas, before tantalizingly tipping the glasses down the sink in a terribly tight 5-setter. It was left to the aerial talents of the nimble young Alan, to strangle 3 points off the mad-cap Cape, who had already punished himself with a cycle race, and was not his normal speedy self. Actual Score: LP 10 - The B-Boys 9…. And then EP give them a freebie 4. What for ? I do not know. So to the finale, where only Bradshaw stood remaining from the disciplined punctuality of the A-Boys, and all, still unshowered, unraveled mysteries, and planned plans, selected sides and skinnered sinfully of wanted women, lost lovers and potential plots for the season. Beered, but not bawdy, and definitely not beaten, they showered, and smelling sweetly, they returned in good time to the loving cuddles and warm breasts of their darling beloveds. On Wednesday, we are at The View . Brendan and Rian have again been Super-napped so we take on the Swifts-boytjies , with the same sides as last night unless anyone wants to give way to that Hulky ,Hunky Henderson lad. Good Luck to the the A-n-others, hopefully they will 19 the LPB side on their way to a final Showdown at the Londt Park Corral next week. Methinks, this bunch of B-Teamers could be in line for some Bronze, which we will trade for the Glistening Gold of our Beer-filled ambitions.
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