| Christmas 2008
Big Ron had a Christmas do to sort out. The first problem is that to get a game called off you need 8 weeks notice, most NW teams don't bother about this (except Marty Holland he has Newtowne's game on Dec 20 th 2024 called off already!). With the Stag Do card played and the Flooded Pitch card played Big Ron had to opt for the emergency Joker card, Rent A Corpse . This involves a trail through the death notices in the Belfast Telegraph and if any dead person has a similar surname to any signed player the games's abandoned due to the death of a close relative. Everyone knows your lying but everyone's too scared to say. BR pulled this stroke and his apprentice as a NW manager continued apace.
Everybody wants a Churchill Utd on a club Christmas night out, turn up on a Saturday and get hammered. Big Ron knew that he couldn't organise the night because the wife would have him in the dog house. He knew that his love life could end up like a Foyle Wanderers presentation night, once a year and over in seconds!
He got Glen Dermott a boring middle aged teacher to organise the night out. Safe, and with loads of wanes, he'd never do anything wrong. Part 2 of this ploy comes on the night when Glen, who always sits in the middle never near the top , is handed the minibus keys and informed he's driving.
On the night of the outing the Big Ron found the bus list is a real Ardmor e , none of the names matched the faces around him. Oh to have a a Claudy Utd night out thought Ron , Everyone on the bus is called McSparron and everybody must have Trevor as one of their Christian names!!
The married men on the bus will be in brand new tank tops bought by the wife in Next while the boyfriend s will be wearing the loud shirts. The unattached will be there in their Eglinton jeans , look the part, great value and will stay safely around the bottom for a year!
Unfortunately some of the players were Sion because they missed the bus. They arrived four days late and claimed they were there on time. Some argued they had a champion time cos they had four more pints than anyone else.
When the mini bus reaches the first off licence the keys are chucked to Glenn. He tries to handle the bus while the players mess about in the toilets doing a Burndennett. The Burn, (playing about in a small bog) is a ritual part of the North West night out. The lads ultimately hope to do a Park, piss about, go down but end up where they started.
At this point on the journey down some of the hen pecked married men will do a Maghera Strollers and take off their wedding rings in a big gesture. All around know that they will promise a lot early on but shite in the nest whenever the pressure is on. For some of the boyfriends it is a a chance to see if they still have it and reuse the great chat up lines from their past e.g. “What's that thing on your lips love?...me!”
At this point I will digress, I used to frequent the Castle Ballroom in Dungiven many years ago. I accompanied Benedy men who had the worst lines in chatting up I ever heard. (The Benedy men are the real culchies in Dungiven). In many ways they were like Douglas Bridge , you never knew what they would come out with. My favourites were (and I heard these!) “For a big girl you don't sweat much”, “Gives us a kiss and take wan for yersel!”, Do ye feel lick an orange?” and “Slipe yer arse roun' love to I see yer face”.I shouldn't make fun of my home town Dungiven. They have a magic team. Who else can put out 3 teams on a Saturday with one team.?
Big Ron and the Boys arrived an hour behind schedule. Most of the crowd is female and very like the Draperstown team. Young and shave about once a month. These girls would have a much better chance of scoring though. Most self respecting woman don't want a Lincoln from these night's out, something casual in front of a crowds of boys with beer cans. They see footballers like Greysteel and are naturally worried, lovely when they are away but when they take you back home they kick the shite out of you. Deep down the women know these men are just like Newbuildings, absolutely nothing in reserve.
By the end of the night the married men are doing a Newtowne to all around them. Borng the shite out of everyone about their accomplishments. No woman wants to here we're good enough for Intermediate football. In fact Al Quaeda are now taping conversations from Newtowne players in The Corner Bar as part of their suicide bomber training. Listen to these long enough and you'll fly a plane into anything.
There's always one character a real smoothie among the crew, a Don Carlotti, half mafia boss half tracksuit supplier to Roe Rovers. Like the Rovers website he takes an occasional hit but nevr discusses the failures.
The night draws to a close with all plastered put of their mind. The unattached have pulled with Claudy Rvrs birds. Ugly beardy things that chase after you all the time. Those smelly, but well endowed people, who have followed through on a fart go home babeless, they're like Irish Street they might have it up front but they're shite at the back.
The night ends just like a season at Drummond full of early promise but you end up looking at the same old faces. Three million piss stops on the way home and the almost obligatory scrap between a BBOB player. (He's was once very handy and can bring in boys if things are getting tight) and a City Colts (a young upstart who likes taking on over 35's to make himself look good.) The rest of the boys did a Tullyally on BB waiting to grab the fall out.
At 2.30p.m. in the morning Big Ron returned home and vowed never again.
Coming soon an away game to forget.
Merry Christmas!!!!! |
