by Corey Carter ‘The Art of Losing’ by American Hi-Fi So there he was: Reece. In a pub, by himself, drinking with two trophies and pretending he had just beaten Hitler during WWII. To us he was Reece, but to him…he was just drunk. The night was supposed to start early, but ended up ending early the next day. Our battle cries were heard amongst Roppongi and Shibuya as we had walked into the Hub, one of our proud sponsors… Many conversations took place much that we cannot remember, but apparently I made Reece my unborn child’s godfather – which, for him, will probably be his greatest achievement. It was nearly 6pm before the first buffalo took place (Foster). And then, the shenanigans launched into full force, destroying pride and livers. At about 7pm we rushed down the street and jumped into a taxi: I was fortunate enough to ride with Cocksy and Reece (I’d rather have had a conversation about politics with Gen and Hiro). We had arrived at our destination – Hobgoblin – and they were expecting us and our trophies. The bar had a slight sense of hope gleam through the door. After making our acquaintance with the rest of the Cru, our food and drinking for two hours began. Trophy-drinking and hurtful comments flew through the air like a bird in a blender. The food was great and the company was better. Sparrow had just won a free trip to Taiwan for missing so many kicks during the season, (what a bargain, right?). After our time was up, we moved to our trusted sponsor Geronimo’s, but sadly there was a birthday party and we were not invited. We decided to rendezvous at Two Dogs Taproom instead. Then, finally, it happened: we had begun the transcendence into Coyote Ugly. While picking up some groupies from Hobs, we started enjoying the music – some of us a little too much. Foster experienced his first body shot off…something, and then his chest; we all got stuck in and the party ended by losing Tavis to the night and guzzling all the water. ‘Hangover’ by Taio Cruz feat. Flo Rida The day began for me, and probably most of us, by waking up to 20+ messages from our beloved Gibbo, saying “Wake up, Wake up, I need you.” In Foster’s humble apartment, Jerry had just rolled over into his corndog when we decided it was time to start our day, smelling as badly as our dreams had been broken a few hours prior. We left, stepping over Foster who had decided to make his bed in the hallway of his flat: not moving much at all, just blocking the door. The walk to the stationed seemed like forever until Jerry and I saw a Family Mart, and decided it was time for magic liquids to help us throughout the day. When we had arrived at the station, we were greeted by a full team of 11 people, not like TeamSnap had suggested (I’m starting to see a trend here). We had three of our trusted players MIA – well two at least – Foster was in his flat rotting away in his shame-filled endeavors; Sparrow had decided to become a bird and not give a sh*t about coming to our aid, and Ed, well…Ed is Ed. There we were at moments before the whistle blew where we wished that a rain storm would come in and cancel the event. Frank had just chu’d Reece prior to warm-ups, and Frank chu’d himself for whatever reason. The pitch was blurry and everyone one of us smelled like a brewery, but we kicked the ball off and nothing else mattered…except everything. Hiro led the charge as our captain for the first time. It was also his first time at hooker, and not the kind you’d find in Thailand either. We fought subpar and only the hope that the game would end kept us alive. Frank was out to kill that day, proving this by quickly receiving a yellow card. He responded respectfully to the ref with a ‘F*ck off!’. The clever bastard got to rest for 10 minutes. We were caught off-guard – when Frank returned to the pitch – by not one, but two Matsudo tries. Then we jumped for joy as Seth (we missed him) gave us a breath of hope, and Reece stormed into the middle, his alcoholic flatulence propelling him past Matsudo into the sunset for a try. Matsudo kept pounding away at us until half-time. The second half started as though Hellen Keller were in my position. The ball was right in my direction and as I touched and dropped it, I unintentionally kissed someone’s shoulder. Our game was sloppy to say the least, but it was our payback for enjoying maybe a little too much the night prior. It kept getting worse as Ten lost his temper and called the ref an idiot, resulting in another yellow card. I saw the light as Seth had broken through and was stopped, but he passed me the ball on the 5 meter line which quickly resulted in a cartwheel on my part. And once again I was brought back to reality, and missed the try. The last exciting moment, though, was when Frank quenched his bloodlust and skullf*cked one of the opposition with his knee in full sprint, laying him out onto a stretcher. Alas, the whistle blew and we were off for yakitori, drinks, and regret. Matsudo’s MVP – No. 8, Kento Kano Our MVP – Reece, for not cutting his eyebrow as badly as Tavis. The bar was a nice change of pace, and the Cat-Splosion Hoody made a comeback with the other squad wishing they had our #SWAG. It was a calm era, with a few buffalos and eventually a boat race that never took off. We left the night early, and our beds were our faithful lovers that night. Well, except Gibbo, but you’ll have to ask him about that. MVP Points were: 5 – Reece; 4 – Yuuta; 3 – Seth; 2 – Owen; 1 – Ten Major props to our few that showed: 1. Joel 2. Hiro (probably the best hooker EVAR!!.) 3. Kenzu 4. Corey (That’s me!) 5. Gibbo (The legend) 6. Aurelien (Ray) 7. Reece (Foster’s wannabe) 8. Yuuta 9. Shunichi 10. Owen 11. Ten 12. Seth (He comes when you need him the most) 13. Frank (He really likes it in the back) 14. Hideo 15. Jerry “Puke in the Kitbag” Sysourath Subs: No-one. Thanks, Cru! Well that was a fun day. I can’t wait until I play drunk again!