View from under the shawl

This blog has (for one posting only) been hi-jacked by Klizzie, in order to bring you his "View from under the shawl". Normal service will be resumed soon.

Do They Really Have Leprechauns in Honolulu then butt?
Of Monarchs, Jackson Pollock, Aloha! and early starts….

Ebbw Vale RFC is one of the so called unfashionable clubs of Welsh Rugby. Not the city slickers of Cardiff or Swansea not the rich history of Neath or Newport not the fame of Llanelli. Ebbw Vale is an honest club which has honest, hard working players. A dedicated coaching and backroom staff, who work tirelessly. And of course they have absolutely mental supporters.

These supporters decided to prove that they too are unfashionable by declaring that the Boxing Day ‘derby’ at Llandovery was to have a dress code -- Hawaiian! Oh and don’t forget the Santa Hats. A ‘derby’ match created by the relegation of both Pontypool and Carmarthen Quins meaning that Llandovery and Ebbw found themselves as odd men out when the other twelve clubs had close encounters with the neighbours. Still never mind, the extra hour travelling time meant a valuable hour away from the in-laws and the turkey and the festive TV.

Alex Codling Ebbw’s head coach left his London home at 6:30 on Boxing morning to get to the match in time, true commitment indeed from a man who has done more than anyone to return Ebbw to its rightful place in the upper echelons of Welsh rugby. True commitment maybe but paling into insignificance when put against the dozens of Ebbw fans who started weaving grass skirts from left over wrapping paper as soon as the Christmas lunch had gone down and the Queen had delivered her wise words.

Llandovery are known as the Drovers and so it was that Ebbw fans went in their droves to rural Carmarthenshire, it was a bit like Marilyn Manson going to the knitting circle of the Women’s Institute but still rugby is rugby and surely Ebbw would be welcome.

The migration of the Monarch butterflies from Mexico to the United States is said to be one of the greatest spectacles in the animal kingdom, along with the journey of the wildebeest and a mate of mine doing breakfast, but even this must have been rivalled by the sight of hundreds of brightly coloured shirts speeding westward along the A40 on Boxing Day afternoon. The wearers of the shirts were well lubricated to help the journey west flow by more pleasantly and not to worry if some of the bumps on the road cause a festive chunder no-one will notice with those shirts on, boys. Some things never change though and Mike wore his best brown Parka.

One of the best shirts was deported by Geezer the erstwhile head of the “English by Birth” (EBB) Ebbw fan club. I’ve seen clothes horses with better dress sense. He’d borrowed his shirt from a fellow EBB Ebbw fan who happens to be a vet. ‘The Vet’ himself failed to make the trip west fearing that he be called upon to deliver a calf or put down a horse in the heartland of agricultural Wales instead of watching the game. Another eight of ‘The Vet’s shirts did make the trip however Hawaiian being normal social attire for him and sometimes normal business attire too, isn’t it lucky most animals are colour blind? There was even a Leprechaun, supremely attired in all green with a check waistcoat and top hat. Do they really have leprechauns in Honolulu then butt? The Vet’s shirts were finally returned but not to The Vet’s satisfaction, Geezer had ironed his! Oh dear, oh dear. Crumpled not creased next time, me old china.

And so it was that Llandovery was breached. It’s a quiet market town as different to Ebbw as a pig to a coil of tinplate. Church Bank, home of Llandovery RFC has fine facilities though and a well appointed Club House. On Boxing Day the Club House looked as if Jackson Pollock on speed had attacked it. When I arrived Jackson had covered half with his splashes and spots of colour and ten minutes later he’s done the rest too. In the middle of this high definition screen saver sat five Llandovery fans clad in traditional Barbour green and tweed with flat caps, a sober contrast to the carnage of colour plastered all around them. They clearly had never seen anything quite like it before. ‘My God that last pint of Bishop’s Armpit was strong’ one was heard to mutter.

The grandfather, grandmother, father and mother of one of Ebbw’s players walked in. Grandma’s face said it all, so many familiar people dressed like, well, Hawaiians she looked to her husband for solace, he shrugged and said ‘well I don’t know where the brightness control is, love’. I could tell she was worried about the sort of people her beloved grandson would be mixing with after his on field duties were done.

And so to the game. Well it was never going to be a Hawaii 5 0 for Ebbw. It was a cold misty day not unlike Honolulu except that it was two o’clock in the morning there. Llandovery are a tough uncompromising side on their on patch but Ebbw did scrape in 9 – 13 and scored the only try, a glorious break in the centre by the hooker. Really. The terraces looked nice though as if wallpapered by a gang of decorators who never talked to each other and who overdone the Christmas spirit. The atmosphere was nice though, hardly any beer split never mind blood. Even the backroom boys joined in with the rest. At the final whistle Ron the baggage and water man sprinted onto the pitch in a spectacular red affair rather than his traditional and rather more subdued navy blue track suit top.

Spent shredded wrapping paper drifted like tumble weed across Church Bank as the floodlights were extinguished, the fog blew in and the gloom descended. Shiny tinsel in red, silver and yellow glistered in the surreal light as it flew over exiting fans heads, who said that Banks don’t have real gold in them any more? Church Bank did on that day. This was an afternoon of many golden moments.

The Monarchs returned that evening in celebration and inebriation, retracing their steps, if they could. It is rumoured one met a farm girl and will never return. She said his shirt reminded her of a cow’s afterbirth and was smitten. Romance still lives on in Carmarthenshire. The rest returned home or like translucent breasted starlings roosted together at the Welfare, the newly named for Christmas, Ebbw Vale Rugby Club until they fell off their perches.

Some of the shirts may never see the light of day again. Many will exhale a sigh of relief at that news, for others the memory of that idyllic day at Llandovery will be invoked every time they don their sunglasses and look at their shirt.

Ah, what a day but days don’t last and thoughts soon turn to new challenges in the future. For the supporters’ club what a challenge they will be. For surely this must be the start of a Boxing Day tradition, please it must! What will it be on Boxing Day 2007, Vicars and Tarts? Bride and Groom? Freddie Mercury? Super Heroes? Whatever. Will it, can it, match the day when the Monarch butterflies migrated to Llandovery, December 26th 2006?