For the second time, the well blended team of youth and experience headed far away from home, on their next quest to achieve the elusive top spot for the year. Just like Southern Suburbs a few weeks before, passports were packed, yellow fever inoculations were updated, but this time we also added a few gum guards and the odd weopon.
Things started off a bit worrying at the courts/gym. With some loud thumping disco type music blaring from the kickboxing studio a few meters away, it was clearly affecting the normally stoic concentration levels of our master-blaster, Andy. It was either the music, or the philosophical questions that were running through his head, such as "Why are there only ladies in the kickboxing class, and how do they get their legs up so high ?" Andy struggled to 1 all against a dogged tricky opponent, played some lovely lob-drops and some beautiful drop-lobs before coming short 3-1 in the final picture.
However, the now very dependable Manie, pulled on his squash kit, and headed into the fray to restore the balance. Missing some vital components in his psychological game plan this week, as his attractive partner did not attend as chief leader of cheer, he appeared nervous at first, and after the first game, made his team mates very worried as he lost it. Could this be a sign of some curse that the 'south' has over us ? But after some hasty tactical readjustment and a small dose of long distance running, Manie did his usual trick and won the next three games on the trot. So, 1 match all.......
And who was that that coming out of the shadows for the next game ? Is that Captain Loake I see ? Finally after introducing himself to both the opposing team as well as his own team, Captain P made his debut appearance for the team this year. I could wax lyrically about the deft moving around the court, the high lobs that came down to the floor like a wet pieces of mud, the straight drops that are right out of the 'Womans Squash for Geriatrics' handbook, but i wont, as i did not see the game, as i managed to go onto another court. But let the record show that Paul took the match 3-0.
Things looking better for the team....
George had started about the same time as Paul, and not knowing the outcome of the game, knew he had to win. His opponent was all over the court, chasing anything down. This running game suits George, so he knew he was in with a chance. With the score at 1-1, the third game started of badly. Perhaps his opponent turned up the gas, or perhaps it was the cute brunette that was watching the game from the exercise bike next to the marker who kept winking at his rapidly reducing frame. Who knows, but when the dust started clearing (and the girl got off the bike), George was 8-0 down. A gutsy attitude forced the marker to keep ticking the numbers on the scorecard, until eventually, at hand-in on 9-9, a straight drive won the point. The last game was 9-0 to George. So 3-1 to the Big Man.
All in all, a good night for the team. Word of warning, play early, and shower early. The hot water runs out very quickly down there.
Match score: 13-5
