Stirling Bridge

To his friends, Blind Hary was known for his dislike of repetition. So it was with some surprise that they noted the sheer deluge of l’s in his noted poem The Wallace *, not that this dampened their belief in its truth; to describe 172 years later as a long time is not only subjective, but also they argued, missed the point about facts and truth. Thus a precedent was born. What follows is a fully truthful and highly accurate account of the first of two of the second bi-annual meeting between the L3s and 4s, of the club of Watsonians. As it too features no bridge, past it’s sell-by date woad and proto tartan, expect to see this account as an educational aid and future blockbuster. All events happened, and no names have been changed. Pinky promise.

Tipperlinn lay scorched in the pitiless heat of the day: the ground cracked, weeds wilted, a haze shimmering of the yellow ropes of the ring; with a lone fly circling, searching for a mate. Into the ring strode the teams: targes, pikes, broadswords, dirks, claymores, battle axes, flails, spears, crossbows, longbows, halberds, caltrops, maces, and kitchen sinks all checked at the gate at Scottish Hockey’s request. Though of course, this could not diminish the 8 foot stances of the L3s, nor their rightful reputation of consuming their enemies with fireballs from their eyes and lighting from their/ nope - that’s Braveheart.

No man’s land- terms for conciliation were read out by the umpires, and quickly dismissed. Rumours suggest that at this point the captains were so enraged, they shape shifted and turned on the umpires terrifying them to point that replacements had to be called. However the respect shown officials by these two sides are legendary, and indeed numbers are in short supply, so instead these rumours more likely address the mythology of the berserker, and their place in these encounters.

The signs from the gold lame clad round-signifying sign-holders went on parade: Round one; cavalry charge. The ground trembled and roared under 44 feet that pounded the earth chasing the ball and the glory attached to things called goals. The ball went left to right and left again, and everywhere the ball went the 44 feet went too, running so fast witchery was suspected, which the flame trails left in their wake did nothing to dissuade.

With no quarters given on either side, it soon settled into 150 stick-tackles- a-minute (roughly) pace, and started to resemble another fracas inspired by the 1297 scuffle: Rocky and Apollo Creed , though with less stars and striped acrylic shorts, at least on show.
The montage goes: hit, run, pass, pass, tackle, tackle, tackle, hit, chase, run, pass, pass, miss, groan, rueful shake, hit, chase, panic, run, pass, pass, stumble, foot, whistle, pass, hit, run, scramble, hit, fear, relief, hit, run, pass, pass, whistle....

Back to the corners, mouth guards out, hydration taken, towels given, sweat wiped, excess of Jelly babies eaten (head always ripped off first), motivational words given, motivational words listened to, mouth guards in, positions retaken for....

Round two: The infantry gets down.
Second round looks and sounds much like the first. The action goes from corner to corner, into the ropes and back again, though occasionally the camera lingers longer on the startingtobeagonisedthroughoxygenstarvation faces. Occasionally it is forgotten which sport is being played with some MMA Pachycephalosaurus head butting moves being played, which led to the creation of the well known daytime program “whose blood is it then?” Answer, always Watsonian’s though, the bleed maroon was meant to be more inspiration, less aspiration.

The montage of greatest hits goes on: hit, run, pass, pass, tackle, tackle, tackle, hit, chase, run, pass, pass, miss, groan, rueful shake, hit, chase, panic, run, pass, pass, unicorn moonwalks across the ring; stumble, foot, whistle, pass, hit, run, scramble, hit, fear, relief, hit, run, pass, pass, whistle....

As is the way some of the blows had to find their way beneath the guarding arms, and so it was on this occasion; 5 in fact.

Till next time; some bite-sized revision facts:

Goal scorer: Alison Scott (5)
Though as we all stand tremulous and afeart in the face of the fantasy hockey statistic gods wrath, the scorers stand amongst the following names, which in testament to the difficulties of deciphering historical records- in which no amount of Facebook sleuthing could elucidate further: Liz, Cat, Haley, Jo, Barbara, Louise.

*They also found its full name a bit of a mouthful: The Actes and Deidis of the Illustre and Vallyeant Campioun Schir William Wallace