The Un-bouncing of Tiggers

The Successful Unbouncing of Tigger

Pooh Brain was eating his honey sandwiches when Christopher Cecil Robinson came in.  “Well, Pooh,” said CCR, “Fifth in the Premiership isn’t bad for what Mr Milne called ‘a bear of little brain’.”

            “Yes,” said Pooh seriously, “but Tigger’s arriving on Friday night.  We’ll have to play better than we did in Catania or he’ll bounce all over us.”

            “You’re right there,” interrupted Eeyore Richards. “We’re physically tough alright, but have we got the mental toughness to believe in ourselves? After all, Tiggers feed on raw meat.”

            “Cheer up, Pooh, “ said Piglet McGinty.  “It’s time Tiggers took a tumble, and our pack is superb.”

            “”Yes, and the backs are nearly there as well,” commented Eddy Roo.  “They don’t call me the Wizard of Oz for nothing.”

            “Listen to them, Pooh,” said CCR.  “If you manage to out-tigger the Tigers, you’ll be known as Pooh the Brain for ever more.”

            “I know,” said Pooh.  “But how shall we do it.  Tigger’s bringing a lot of his friends.  They’re lean and mean because they haven’t had a good meal in weeks. I’ve hear that even without the Lion Johnno and Neil the Cheetah, they’re still really dangerous.”

            “Yeh,” said Eeyore gloomily. “Look who’s coming to dinner: Andy the Goode, Kay the Bad and any amount of Uglies.  They’ll have desperate Dan Hipkiss and Dennis the Menace Healey and loads of other villains.”

            “Don’t worry,” said the Wizard of Oz.  “You want a storybook ending don’t you?  That’s where we’ll go for help.”

            “Agreed,” chipped in Piglet.  “With a little help from our friends we’ll unbounce Tigger.”

            The Wizard of Oz was as good as his word and along the Yellow Brick Road into Sixways strode a stream of heroic figures.  First came the Famous Front Five, led by Bulldog Reg Drummond and including the twins, TweedleChris and TweedleLee, Shrek’s cousin Tevita and Twizzle Gillies with his friend Phil. The Three Musketeers – Drew, Johnny and Kai -  were close behind. Next along the way came the deadly shot, Robin Shane Hood and his sonic partner, Andy Batman. They were followed by the masked and enigmatic crusaders, Thomas Zorro and the Lone Ben Ranger. On the wing overhead zoomed the two fliers, Biggles Delport and the Tongan Raven.  Finally, through the open window of the Six Ways Suite swooped the diminutive figure of Peter Nicholas Pan. 

            Even then, the group was not complete.  Waiting by the ice bath were the wounded figures of Long John Rasmussen, Horatio Van Niekerk and, best of all, Captain Marvel himself, temporarily released from his desert island in Loughborough by the English Family Robinson.

            “Right,” said Eeyore. “No more honey. It’s fish oil all round.”

            “Let’s get to work,” growled Pooh.

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Friday evening finally came. The weather was cool and dry after some earlier heavy rain and high wind.  The excitement in Worcester had been building all week: JP had posted his latest Agincourt speech on the message board, Barnes and Morris had tipped a Worcester win and the game had been sold out for weeks. In Leicester, fans were concerned about their team’s performance on a Friday night away from home, particularly if they wore the white kit.

As usual at the end of the week, traffic was heavy and the Leicester team coach was late.  When it arrived at the ground, the clubhouse car park was already congested so the coach was obliged to stop in a particularly muddy spot on the perimeter road.  The Leicester players stepped down from the bus into the middle of a large puddle and were then forced to carry their kit bags containing their white shirts and shorts to the changing rooms. This set the tone for the evening.

By the time kick-off arrived, Fortress Sixways was well and truly defended by Worcester supporters: flags waved, horned helmets were everywhere and “gold’n blue” was definitely the accepted dress code.  Greetings were exchanged, memories of the Sicilian trip last week were revived and speculation about the forthcoming game was rife. As Carmina Burana blared out across the pitch, expectation reached fever pitch. For the next 80 minutes, it was going to be survival of the fittest

Throughout the match, the noise in the ground was deafening.  To us Westies, it seemed that the other stands gave their best vocal performance ever.  The East  was magnificent in volume and intensity; then waves of “Come on you Warriors!” arose from the massed choir of the South.  This was followed by the North until a synchronised stereophonic effect was achieved.  The West, being much smaller and more aged, was quieter, but this did allow us to hear the waggish banter from some supporters.  When Austin Healey kept delaying his put-ins to the scrum it was “Get on with it or you’ll go the way of your car firm” and “See Shane Warne’s nicked your hair ad.”

The match was reviving memories of the heroic events at Sixways last season: Harlequins, Wasps in November, Irish at New Year, Northampton at the end.  Those were tough physical games which kept us in the Premiership. This encounter had the same hallmarks. Leicester was our bogy team: could we maintain our self-belief? After the Powergen Cup match, Pat Howard had commented on the Warriors’ physicality and recognised determined and committed opponents who had tested his side more than the score showed. Now, despite players missing for England, injury and punishment, Leicester could still call on International quality.  They were not taking us lightly.

The intensity of the encounter became stark reality in the second forty minutes, when the Warriors’ pumped-up physical power pinned Tigers in their own half for much of the time. Leicester tempers grew frayed and infringements were regularly punished by an even-handed Mr Maybank who clearly thought that yellow suited the Tigers.  In the final quarter of the game, the opposition’s big guns threw all they had at the gallant Warriors and the last ten minutes set every pulse racing. 

It was at this point, with the match threatening to be snatched from us, that the supporters showed themselves worth of their name. The waves of chanting around the ground became palpable and, suddenly, it was as if Worcester had 16 players on the pitch as the cheering grew to a crescendo, giving extra strength and skill to our exhausted players.

And then Mr Maybank blew his final whistle.

Warriors had done it!

Worcester had beaten Leicester!

The joy of both players and supporters was clear to all. Despite their obvious fatigue, adrenalin gave the Warriors energy for a triumphant lap of honour, while handshakes, hugs and kisses were evident on the terraces.  Supporters lingered in the stands to savour the moment and the dry evening ensured that, hours after the final whistle, many fans were still at the ground, draining the last drops of pleasure from the win (and the beer glasses).

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            “There you are, Pooh,” said CCR.  “I said you would be a great Brain.  It was a story book ending after all.”

            “Yes,” replied Pooh thoughtfully. “It was about time we showed how to manage the unbouncing of Tigger….But he’s still our friend.  Let’s go and offer him some of our honey!”

RT