May Bank Holiday, 2005 – 14 Hands went to Tallinn and won the Tallinn 10s. Sorry to spoil the suspense.
After much Gatwick giggling and aeroplane excitement, the Hands touched down in Estonia, where we were crammed into a transfer bus and driven to our nice hotel in the middle of an eastern European slum. We sat at the back of the bus and sniggered at possibly the most woooaaaayyy! speech ever heard, and then we had an early night before the tournament the next day. Due to regional time difference, an early night in Tallinn is worth about 5 a.m.
We were slightly jaded by tournament time, but not half as jaded as the team-with-a-thousand-names who we played first. This match report will call them “the Brindleys” because four or five of their players were now-retired Wandering Hand Dom Brindley (including the one who was Gavin Henson). The Boy-Band Brindleys (whose rent, by the way, is heavily in arrears) turned up hungover, with no forwards and a strip which endearingly featured the colour pink. Although the scrums were uncontested the breakdowns were not, and the Hands brought their superiority to bear in this area. The Brindleys scored first, and always looked useful with the ball in hand, but the Hands didn’t take long to reply, and a Pool interception (his first since the Rosslyn Park 7s, 1997) left the Hands 12-7 up at half time. The second half was equally tightly contested, but with 5 minutes to go the Hands were 20-14 up. The Brindleys then managed to exert some intense pressure on the Hands’ line, and the local rule against any form of kicking didn’t help much. However, the Hands’ ‘big D’ (with Thorne and Morgan to the fore with important tackles on a newly-arrived fat man) did not desert them, and they ran out winners.
It was always felt that this was going to be the toughest game. Next up were Hitchin A, who had looked all right in their earlier game. Perhaps the Hands were complacent, but they finished the first half 7-0 down after some shabby play – handling errors, unimpressive playmaking, and an effective Hitchin pack kept the Hands’ running rugby in check for too long. It would probably have been fine in any case as the Hands finished the second half as the stronger team, but some cruel personnel changes at half time seemed to turn things around, and the Hands triumphed 21-7.
The tournament structure had been hindered by the late withdrawal of 2 teams, which was frustrating for the tournament organizers as they have turned away 15 teams who were keen to get involved. So the Hands were already champions elect at the start of their third game against Tallinn, who had yet to win a game. In a one-sided and largely ceremonial affair, the Hands ran a ring or two around their hosts, with Haworth’s effectiveness at winning ball back at the restarts allowing the scoreboard to tick over at a pleasing rate. For the Hands. Blankley got his bully-boy boots back on, and the Hands won the contest at a canter. Proceedings were only interrupted by an enormously and repellently fat man streaking across the pitch. Eyewitness reports later conflicted as to whether this was or was not in fact Simon Tedridge.
For want of anything better to do, the Hands hit the town. After watching Harlequins get relegated, and after eating a civilized meal, a hugely enjoyable game of “what I did well and what I did badly today” was played, making us late for our hosts’ kindly-organised function where there were, apparently, strippers. It is a shame we missed this, as strippers were hard to find in Tallinn, and I for one don’t think I saw a single naked woman all weekend. After the game, Kirk Hullis was awarded the Turner Prize for his consistently impressive performances throughout the day. I can’t remember what happened after this point, but I presume a good time was had by all – except anyone who got within Kai’s reach at any point, of course.
The next day a trip to the Tallinn TV tower was undertaken, via the city centre courtesy of an assumption of Jack Whibley’s. From the top of the TV Tower or ‘Telitoor’ we had marvelous views of what a flat, uninspiring place Estonia is. However, the trip was worth it because we saw a man with a really enormous face, which gave many of us tears of laughter. “Would you rather spend a year in 1982 or a year in Swansea?” mused Doug. Phil chose 1982, because he was at his peak around then, aaarrrr. Pieces of ’82. While waiting for the taxi home the Hands tried to see how far they could throw Pool, and Drew and Doug found that when they worked as a team they could actually throw him clean into a thorn bush.
Tour court began at 6, at by half past 6 Brown was "well on his way to being Blotto"; notwithstanding that he was drinking slower than any time since records began (even Tedridge lying full on top of him didn't seem to help him speed up). Matthew Morgan was punished time and again for his private touring (he had, at certain points, strayed dangerously close to going on tour with the Brindley Boy-Band roadshow), and was invited to kiss each member of the party on the lips and remind them he loved them. Tour Gimp, Ian Priest, showed off some lap-dancing skills that he cannot have learnt from observation in Estonia, Pool was forced to speak in a Pakistani accent for turning up on tour looking like one (and was repeatedly punished for allowing his English accent to slip through entirely). Phil pointed out that it was a bit Baltic (quite a few times). Tour court was, as ever, excellent presided over by Judge Pickles, who was later appointed Man of the Tour.
By dinner time the party was very well oiled, and a number of drunken disputes arose – these could only be solved in one way: by sumo wrestling. SPNT did a giant-killing act on Kai, one of the finest contests seen to date, and Turner and Brown also settled their differences sensibly, in the street, as the rest of us cheered from our table, like drunken corporate-hospitality spectators at a rugby match. Pool then dump tackled a witless Estonian who probably only wanted to make friends with him and improve his English. Three times. Then there was another big night, can’t remember much about it.
On Monday morning we licked our wounds, checked out of the hotel, and went and sat hungoverly in a square, and watched the world go by. Highlights of this day were the “Neil Back fact-off” between Brown and SPNT, and SPNT having to walk backwards across the square, to the consternation of the people he bumped into.
Then we flew home, content in the knowledge that we had won another 10s tournament. Well done to all who took part, it was another very enjoyable tour.