Red Sox, Light Blue Hearts

Some of the boys try their hand at wearing lifejackets

A few minor tensions dispelled after we discovered there were in fact enough rooms for everyone in Boston, as the tour party settled in for the final week of tour in the scenic New England town.

It was odd leaving Yale after such a brief and glorious visit, but it was okay because Penman had circled the hostel on everyone’s maps so that no one would get lost when venturing out into the 3rd new city in as many days. Kind of. Well, he got the right street…

Cartographical gripes aside, Boston proved to be every bit the cosmopolitan, enchanting, accommodating city that we had been promised. Other than the ridiculously stringent drinking laws (passport or broke) Boston seemed like a settlement fond of a good drink. The Samuel Adams brewery tour was testament to this, and many of our tour party ventured into the guts of Boston’s most famous beer producer to see and taste just how it has earned this accolade and the onto DOYLE’S via the most partiest party bus we had ever encountered.

After a day of rest, it was once again time to boot-up and face-up to some stern American opposition. That said, the boys of the Harvard Business School were not the sort of ‘American opposition’ that we had grown accustomed to. Peppered with some pretty nifty Europeans (including the former Ireland U18 fly-half and some distinctive Blues socks) HBS combined the physicality we had been adjusting to with a powerful attacking edge. Going down to an early try, Sidney did extremely well to pull back from a 7-point deficit to lead 13-10 but then conceded a try just before half time.

The second half was a story of brave hearts, but ultimately battered, breaking and broken bodies that were feeling the full brunt of playing 4 games in 7 days. Of all the injuries, the egg-like protrusion on Danny’s head was looking like a clear winner up until Charlie Greenway’s spectacular cameo resulted in the tour’s first hospitalisation. Although I am told that the boys battled valiantly to the end of the eventual 34–13 defeat, James Seel, Charlie, the doting girlfriend of our injured comrade (Fran) and myself were unable to witness this as we raced towards Beth Israel hospital in our various modes of transportation.

But fear not, dear reader, Gadge retained enough of his gung-ho determination and resolve that he was back up on his feet -head stitched thoroughly back together- in time for the Red Sox game that he had arranged for us to witness at Fenway Park. So it was that, nursing hangovers kindly bestowed upon us by the boys of HBS, we decamped in order to see Boston’s baseballers take on the Jays. What with $8 beers and another sweltering day, our baseball experience was always going to divide opinion but what the hell, we were on tour, we were on the after-burners and the full squad were determined to see out the tour in style.

Whether we appeared to exhibit this style in our various adventures around Boston is a matter for later debate. Whatever the case, excursions on the Freedom Trail, famous jazz bars, sailing and casual walks around New Cambridge (also called ‘Harvard’) revealed to us that this was a city worthy of our final dollars, our last energy reserves and our now internationally infamous Tour Banter.

The final few days were a mixed ball bag of emotions with the highs of tour court, the return of Sandy and a couple of the grimiest bars Boston had to offer; and the abject lows of the forced cancellation of the game against Harvard and harassment at the airport sponsored by some pretty comprehensive mental problems.

Speaking of highs, I don’t think it would have been possible to have given the tour a more surreal dimension than the authorised marijuana festival on Boston Common that a policeman pointed us towards. The Mapparium (the world’s largest walk-in globe) and its entertaining acoustics had already blown our minds that day, so we just allowed the situation to wash over us. It was in these most perplexing surroundings that we spent our last hours in the Boston sunshine, throwing some balls around, chatting about tour, and confirming the suspicions of on-lookers that rugby was ‘a distinctly homo-erotic sport’. And who would blame them for thinking this. We had just had the most brilliant, challenging, bonding, inspiring, incomprehensibly magnificent 2-weeks of our rugby-loving lives, and we were not about to hide it.

After dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant (reserved against all odds by the resourceful Alex Bescoby), a few swift naps on the table and an unusually chilled atmosphere among the squad, we ventured back to Hostel International to retrieve our bags and head out to Boston Logan International on the final subways of the night. Settling in for the wait from midnight ‘til the 8am flight, we made our own fun in the sort of way Sidney does best. Ask someone that was there; I can’t do it justice.

And then, having somehow survived the night; having somehow survived Ayo and Hugh’s ticket scare; and having somehow survived 14 days, 14 (big) nights, 4 matches, 5 hostels, 3 cities and countless statistics; we boarded the plane back home to Blighty. Freddie Iron timed his run-in to the flight spectacularly; spurred by the prospect of unlimited free alcohol courtesy of British Airways, a variety of cinematic entertainment and abundant opportunities to flirt with the flight attendants, he hatched a shot of “5 hour energy” a tactical two hours before the flight and promptly fell asleep 14 seconds after takeoff. And remained thus for the rest of the flight. But perhaps, as the driving force behind such a challenging and successful tour, he had more reason than most to be tired.

A massive thank you to our various hosts, the States of New York, Connecticut and Massachusetts, our financial supporters, our touchline supporters and –most of all- the men of Sidney Sussex College RFC for this incredible experience. It is not one that any of us will be forgetting in a hurry.

Frat’s Amazing (Part 2)

The United States of Ladmerica get ready to party at the Rugby House

…jokes!

From ∑AE we met up with the rest of the squad, fresh(ish) from their various parties. Steadily, stories began to drift across the assembled throng of what people had seen and experienced. Mixers to rush freshmen into frats, a naked Disney party (our lads escaped before ‘the ritual’ was performed), some even went for a drink in a ‘bar’. Mental.

As one, we headed for the jammy-jam party being held (I think) by the lacrosse team. To be honest, who cares who was holding it. There we were in the US of A, partying like we didn’t know how, in places we could only have dreamt of. This was a time to savour.

Saturday night only got better. With a win apiece, both Yale and Sidney were in high spirits as we arrived at the rugby team house (yup, they have a HOUSE). From the outset, it was clear that the bonds of rugby-infused friendship that had begun in 2010 back in Cambridge had only grown stronger. There was singing, there was shouting, there was the sledge-hammering of furniture, there were yet more kegs! What more could a rugby lad want?

The answer is simple: more of the same plus the girls of the Yale track and field squad. By the time they arrived the party was still just about under-control. Well, actually, that’s not really true. The whisky was being passed, the keg stands were almost continuous, spectators sat on the roof and the whole house shuddered with the full force of the best of both Yale and Cambridge.

From here, I will offer you shady memories of a ‘Booze for Jews’ party, a Chinese party, a Football (American variety) party, a club called Toad’s that left me -quite literally- speechless and many more misadventures beside.

You could say that this all sounds fantastical and unbelievable. Honestly, it is. And that’s why it will go down as one of the best weekends of our lives. We look forward to returning the favour in the not too distant future.

God bless America, and God bless Yale.

Frat’s Why We Chose Yale (Part 1)

Red Cups at ∑AE: Check

Perhaps the most amusing entries on our tour itineraries read simply ‘FRAT PARTY?’. The juxtaposition of the capitals and the question mark identified 2 core thoughts among the squad: we knew that frat parties must be occurring (we were in America after all) but doubted we would ever see one in action.

Despite our (and Hector’s) best efforts, by the time we left New York no such party had been glimpsed. No red cups, no beer pong, no outrageous themes, no beer kegs, no sorority girls, no cops to ‘shut this down’. We didn’t see it ever happening, but then again, we didn’t see Yale coming.

The 2 nights that sandwiched our games against the Yale boys were –it is widely agreed- 2 of the best nights of tour. It all began rather inconspicuously. As the stadium sound system started to crank out the beats signalling the end of Friday training, Sam Power brought the Yale and Sidney squads together in order to partner us up with our new hosts. Here began the most unbelievable hospitality that we experienced on tour as the Yale lads drove us off to their rooms, houses and flats around campus and proceeded to feed, water and house us.

What followed that evening has been described as many things. Epic, unbeatable, truly incredible, sabotage… You name it, we flung ourselves with every ounce of our party-loving hearts into the nights that we had been waiting for.

At this point I will break rank and claim that the night we had at the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity was not only the best for partying, but also sound guys, girls and theme alike. Irrespective of our careful preparation (in our beach-wear, valuables safely zip-locked away), and the commitment to having ‘just one or two drinks’, nothing could have readied us for what followed. You name it, the brothers of ∑AE had it. Outdoor pools (check), indoor bar (check), basement beerpong tables (check), kegs (check), RED CUPS (check), girls ready to go nuts and jump in the pools while soaking us with waterguns (check, check, check and check). Bliss.

‘CANONBALL!’ Tom Bell’s exclamation of excitement as he plunged into the nearest pool -watched enviously by the boys on the balcony of the neighbouring frat house- summed up our giddiness. We were on the cusp of discovering that everything we had dreamed about American Universities was true.

But what happens in Yale, stays in Yale…

MATCH: Yale University B 0 – 32 Sidney Sussex College

The Sidney and Yale rugby boys after our 2 epic matches

No more than 15 minutes after the end of Saturday’s first match the Sidney boys were back on the pitch. Captained by 2011/12 vice captain Phil “Hermes” Franklin, a Sidney ‘2nd XV’ faced up against a Yale B side. In his inspirational role as leader for this game, Phil joined an exclusive bunch of players (so far as I know, there are only two) united by a 100% winning record as Sidney Sussex captains as he led the side to a demolition of the Yale seconds.

Match highlights included a “cheeky conversion” by outgoing club president Freddie Iron, a debut try (after only 2 touches of the ball) from perennial injury-victim James Seel (in fact I think all would agree that had he not scored his mere presence on the pitch would have been a highlight in itself) and a confident, powerful performance from every one of the Sidney 2nd XV particularly Theo McCusker, Andreas “The Steg” Stegmueller and man-of-the-match and debut try-scorer John Hopkins, whose inspired performance at inside centre had next years’ Sidney players frothing at the mouth at the prospect of the “Jedward” midfield partnership. Final score was Sidney 2nd XV 32 – 0 Yale B.

Honours even, Yale proceeded to throw one of the greatest rugby parties of all time. I think I speak for all the Sidney tourists when I say I cannot wait to play against these guys again. Next time, I’ve got my eyes on the “Biggest Hit Sledgehammer”, this time awarded to Stechman for his demolition of one of the overgrown monsters that comprised the Yale pack. Overall, a great experience for all concerned, and once again our thanks to our gracious hosts for a fantastic stay in New Haven.

MATCH: Yale University A 33 – 27 Sidney Sussex College

Celebrity tourist Alex ‘Besc’ Becoby tidies some Sidney ball

It was, in many ways, a familiar sight. Yes, the setting was new – we were half way round the world from our usual Cambridge haunts. The sun that beat down on us was a good 20 degrees more intense than the golden rays that traditionally illuminate our Sidney street HQ. But the sight of the boys in red and blue, bodies reeling from the previous night’s raucous partying but minds and hearts ready and eager for a brutal encounter with our next opponents smacked of the fundamental fact that, term time or holiday, at home or abroad, Sidney rugby changes little.

From the kick-off, it was clear that our gracious hosts/cunning adversaries’ efforts the night before to render us uncompetitive with copious amounts of beer, women, music and water (the brothers of the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity kindly provided paddling pools, which one Sidney starlet came close to fatally twisting his knee whilst gracelessly collapsing into) were unsuccessful, though greatly appreciated nonetheless. Securing possession straight away, the Sidney pack held off the onrushing Yale forwards and laid the platform for an early penalty which tour high-scorer Max Stechman slotted to give the tourists and early 3-0 lead.

Sidney’s ability to hold possession continued to serve them well. A few minutes further into the half the forwards pick-and-goes that had swung the game against Columbia in their favour led to an extended period of possession which resulted in a lineout around the Yale 22, from which the Sidney backs demonstrated their renowned flair and incision in setting up winger Ayodele Fajuyigbe to storm across the Yale line and open up a ten point lead for the team from Cambridge. Shortly before half time, Yale blind side Grey Grissom scored after a punishing drive by the bulkier Yale pack to make the half time score Sidney 13 – 7 Yale.

Despite this promising start, as the game progressed the size, organization and physical stamina of the Yale side started to tell and the game fell into their hands. McEvoy’s inability to beat the first jumper at the Yale defensive lineout frustrated the team’s efforts to maintain possession, and the blazing sun (the likes of which are just unheard of in the Green and Pleasant Land) melted the already alcohol-dessicated brains of the visitors to the point at which holes started appearing in Sidney’s usually airtight defence. Despite this the game remained even and tries continued to be scored by both sides – one of the most memorable being a solo effort by full-back Stechman returning a speculative clearing kick by Yale lock “Fell” Feldman – but a second-half hat-trick by man-of-the-match Dan O’Brian meant that after a tense and breathtakingly open encounter Yale came out deservedly on top with a scoreline of 33-27, despite a late try by Sidney’s man-of-the-match Richard “Westy” Westerman.

Same Old New Yorking

Westy, Toby, Dan, Minnie, Charlie, James and Shaun pack down in New York

On Thursday, the rain that had willed us on to a win the night before finally retired for a well-earned break, yielding to the glorious sunshine that we had been expecting.

With a winning spring in our steps and the pressure of the knowledge that we had one day left in NYC, the tour group headed out into the Big Apple to enjoy the various spectacles on offer.

This leg of the trip has certainly been characterised by diversity: diversity of accommodation standard (Shutter Island… need we say more?); diversity of weather (torrents of rain and sunbeams); and diversity of cultural options. It was therefore fitting that we each spent our last days in a variety of flavours taking in architecture, views, art, fashion, parties and $12 mojitos.

It all came to a head –as it so often does- in the evening, with a series of predictably fortuitous events that we were fortunate enough to survive/endure to make it to the next morning. Need we even mention trips up and down the 1 train until 7am? Should we ever recall projectile illness preventing embarkation of homeward-bound modes of transportation? Surely, it’s best not to even murmur the male-hen obstruction and male-bovine loss that occurred in the early hours of Friday morning.

Suffice to say, the Sidney boys have done themselves proud in the first leg of their epic adventure, and we look forward to what lies ahead. Without our tour mascot. Poor Sandy.

MATCH: Columbia University 11 – 14 Sidney Sussex College

The backs have some fun with the match egg

Having been a mild irritation over the past few days, the insistent precipitation that has been tormenting New York lent a strange sense of rainy English familiarity to the opening fixture of the USA tour.

That said, no amount of rain was going to normalise the setting of the impressive 17,000-seater Robert K. Kraft Field, the venue for our match against Columbia University RFC.

The Sidney tourists arrived at the field already aware that the fixture posed a serious challenge. This challenge was made no easier when the other light-blues arrived with enough players to generate several full sides. Unphased and fired-up by a stirring rendition of God Save the Queen, the valiant Sidney side took to the field. However, no amount of chat and planning could make up for the fact that Columbia University RFC were fit, organised and ready to play some rugby.

We made heavy weather of the first half, conceding 2 penalties and a well-worked forwards’ try, scored by a larger and, at that stage, smarter pack. There were however clear signs of promise from Sidney. Some great service from Toby Ankers, linking with the ever-innovating distribution of Charlie Greenway, ensured that when we had the ball the backs had a catalyst in the key 9-10 channels. In addition, the pack started to show that work on new line-out calls and a committed attitude in the scrums had the potential to deliver.

But at half-time, we were staring down the barrel of an 11-0 score-line. The boys needed a lift, and more specifically, some points on the board. And when they came, it was glorious.

With our backs keeping the Columbia backline busy, Sidney gained the territory we needed from a spectacular downfield kick, executed by Westy ‘One Boot’ Westerman. We settled in for an extended stay in the opposition 22”, pinning back a stubborn Columbia scrum that had caused us so much trouble in the first half. Finally, with a line-out about 15 metres out, the Sidney pack won good ball, wrapped it up and started the rumble towards the try zone. With the Columbia try line in sight, the ball was released and shipped to Sidney’s returning loose-head Shaun Cook, who crashed over at close range.

A conversion from the boot of Max ‘Hot Hair’ Stechman brought us within 4 points, and it was clear that the sweet taste of the first points of tour had got under the skin of Columbia, and into the heads of the Sidney boys.

A beautiful kick for the line from a penalty gave us the opportunity to set up another driving maul, and we were not about to pass up the chance. Another superbly executed throw from Danny McEvoy gave us the possession that we needed, and when the ball was again released through the hands of scrum half Toby Ankers, Shaun Cook was running a line that would result in the try that gave us the win.

A second conversion from Stechman put us in a 3 point lead, but we were far from home. This was made harder by a fairly harsh yellow card handed out for a slightly high tackle. A man down in the pack, we dug deep with both forwards and backs giving nothing to the determined Columbia side.

As the torrential rain drove at the ground so too Sidney drove at the line, delivering not only an incredible win to start the tour, but also one of the best performances in recent memory.

Many thanks to our hosts who not only played some great rugby, but were lining up the post-match game almost before we left the stadium. Here’s to more of the same. Next stop, Yale.

Sidney Sussex College RFC: T. Bell, J. Hopkins, A. Fajuyigbe, E. Linford, R. Westerman, C. Greenway, T. Ankers, S. Cook, D. McEvoy, C. Crowe, D. Penman, F. Iron, E. Banks, B. van Velden, P. Franklin; Substitutes from Z. Akanga, M. Stechman, H. Bird, T. McNeill, S. Bailey

Fear and Getting Lost in New York

4/6 of the Tour Committee at Fortress Iron

It all began with an alarm.

The rude 5am awakening was not made any easier having met up in Faversham to sort out some crucial pre-tour ladmin (and the small matter of a hop festival) but spirits never-the-less remained high as we loaded 26 stash packages, 4 committee members, 5 tweed jackets and a few cups of coffee into the Iron-mobile and made for Heathrow.

A couple of calls later (‘We’re meeting at Gatwick, yeah…’) and we were all convening in Terminal 5, anticipating the inevitable hilarity of exhaustion, duty free and ‘random’ bag searches. Having journeyed from all over the UK, the tour was yet to take on a particularly emotive tone. This was rectified by a charming air hostess on our flight who having ascertained that we were off to play some rugby state-side, intimated that it were best that we should ‘smash them’. God bless BA.

Having had the temperature turned up by this hearty ‘bon voyage’, the thermometer quite literally exploded on arrival at JFK International. Suffice to say that tweed was maybe not the best choice. The heat wave that ripped through the East Coast over the summer was very much still in operation. This still doesn’t account for our inability to master the subway, and within a matter of minutes the party had split into multiple groups as we attempted to locate our various locations of accommodation.

The pick of these options has undoubtedly been the sublime White House Hostel of NY. Having initially attempted to convince the rest of the group that they were staying in a palatial inner-city retreat, it was eventually confessed that this hostel bore a striking resemblance to scenes from Shutter Island. But no matter, we have all settled in and the absence of any major mishap is encouraging.

Oh, and we managed to lose new recruit Tom Bell on the subway for half a day having left him sleeping in a carriage by himself.

Having trained (or attempted to find a piece of land we were allowed to train on) in Central Park, some impromptu tackling practice on Monday night and then again in the driving rain out with Brooklyn RFC last night, things are starting to take on a sense of cohesion. Our first tangible challenge of the tour presents itself tonight in the form of a game against Columbia University RFC. With the promise of support from various contacts in New York, we look forward to opening the business end of tour in bold fashion.

Let’s hope that the artificial pitch is slightly less robust than our defence.

Me, Myself and Irene

I don’t know what all the fuss is about.

These Yanks, honestly. A bit of a breeze and a spot of rain and all of a sudden it’s “Evacuate! Run for your lives!” As it happened, the “Historic Hurricane” had been downgraded to a comparatively balmy “Tropical Storm” by the time it hit the Big Apple, but even so I awoke this morning with a distinct impression of “Is that it?”

True, next door did have a tree looking distinctly horizontal in their garden, tangled up with wires in a way which seemed less than conducive to an electronically active day. And yes, there were lots of twigs, leaves and minor branches littering the porch. Big deal. That’s an average gale back in Blighty. I’m faintly disappointed. No power outage, no water cutting out – as far as I’m aware, not even that much wind. This is probably because I was asleep during the worse part of the storm, but for me this says it all – I was able to sleep through it. I had envisaged howling gales whipping tree trunks and old ladies aerially through the rain-soaked streets, prompting distraught wails from onlooking children and a general air of petrified fear, or at least tense uncertainty. I wanted to hear the wind, I wanted it to keep me awake. The most intrusive aspect of the storm was the fact that it caused a drip from my windowsill onto my A/C unit. Annoying yes, but not exactly Awesome Force of Nature material.

I’ve had a potentially very interesting but in practice oddly anticlimactic time with natural disasters this last week. Tuesday’s earthquake caught me outside, on the street and I felt absolutely nothing – the first thing I knew about it was when I stopped for pizza, looked over to the TV in the corner and read to my considerable surprise that the city I was in – in fact, the whole East coast – had just been rocked by a 5.9 tremor. Over the course of the next couple of days I heard tales from those indoors during the event of plant pots sliding around , tables shuddering and vast chasms opening up in the floor, exposing the bemused, upturned faces of those working on the level below. But no, to this day my own experience of the quake still leads me to suspect that everyone else is actually just making it up.

The hurricane? In many ways I’m lucky – I’m staying at one of the highest points in Brooklyn, so risk of flooding was always minimal. But I’m still disappointed. Next time I go to New York I’m going to make sure I’m in one of the low-lying areas, to get some real excitement. In these areas – Battery Park, Coney Island, etc. – they know they’ve had a hurricane. The streets are flowing with enough water to cure a Freddie Iron hangover the morning after a thirteen-man victory. Not that I’ve been paying much attention but I think there have been one or two deaths, so perhaps my blasé Brittanic dismissal of the disaster is a little insensitive. But then, these colonials have always had a tendency to get their knickers in a twist over the most trivial of meteorological anomalies, what what?

At any rate, with the massed ranks of Sidney Sussex College RFC poised to descend on the city in less than a week, the events of this weekend can only be described as the calm before the storm.

Tour Kit Teaser

They say that a warrior’s armour should fill him with confidence and his enemies with fear.

This is of little relevance.

Our kit is here and it looks wicked. As promised, Sidney will be playing in nothing but the best, working in partnership with the Goliath of rugby clothing suppliers, Canterbury of New Zealand.

Canterbury are truly a world-class sports brand with technical expertise, a long-standing knowledge of rugby and outstanding reputation. As if to qualify this reputation, it is worth remembering that as we run out onto the pitch at Columbia, Yale and Harvard, we will be doing so in kits designed for the World Cup, being worn by current world champions South Africa (and also future world champions, Scotland, yes mate).

There are several special aspects to the kit, not least that we will be carrying the names of 2 charities on our playing shirts (more on this soon). This has been made possible by the kind support of members of the college’s 1596 Foundation. Our thanks to them for their huge generosity.

In the mean time, we look forward to being the best-dressed Sidney touring side in living memory. Get excited boys.