BDA Liverpool 2010
Rage goes up north taking the fight to the Amathus' doorstep...
(By Jim 'International Athlete' Joannou)
Question: If you are racing in Liverpool for the weekend, a cosmopolitan city of almost half a million people, filled with world class restaurants and bars, comfortable but reasonably priced hotels and enough 'eye candy' wondering the streets in next to nothing to give the most devout celibate monk pause for thought, where would you stay?
Answer: (a) Anyone with a semblance of sanity left, in the centre of Liverpool itself. (b) If you are Raging Dragons, at a grubby, dingy Travelodge, twenty miles from anywhere with the only place to eat being a 'stuff your face for a fiver' Toby Carvery full of obese northerners and their even fatter pasty faced kids. Just exactly how do they manage to reduce the oxygen in their pubs to a level where you don't actually pass out but can't really breath either? Mind you, they make a cracking Sticky Toffee Pudding!
After 'dinner' (I use the word advisedly...), we made our way back across the dual carriageway and industrial park to our lodgings. As usual, Eddy was trying his best to get everyone to go to bed by 9pm, after saying their prayers to the Dragonboat Gods, so that they could be at their best for the racing the next day. As usual, a bunch of us said 'Sod that!' and headed into town to get bang on it. Another breakaway group headed off to Asda on a booze run to set up a party in their room only to get busted by Captain Killjoy and his trusty lieutenant, Nurse Ratchet, who were busy shopping for new halos or something....so poor Jammo and Gaj's party died a very early death! They could do well to take a leaf out of Ahmod's book, who brings his booze with him and only brings it out into the open when the Fun Nazis are safely tucked up in bed...Nice move, Ahmod!!
A special mention goes out here to Alfonso 'El Torro' Roca. The man who would have us believe that he spends half his spare time hanging by the fingernails of his pinky finger from a rock face 300ft above the pounding waves of a rocky headland and the other half gracing the lounges and dance floors of the worlds most exclusive clubs in the company of scantily clad supermodels, was due to come to town with Ahmod, Tin and I. I must confess to a slight shiver of excitement at the prospect of spending time in the great man's company and seeing him in action. We waited patiently in the lobby. Drum, drum went the fingers. Tick, tock went the clock. Finally, he was ready. 'Tin's offered to run us into town and we'll grab a cab back', I make the mistake of saying. 'No, no, I no go now.' he says. Qué? Estás loco? No comprende? What on earth could be the matter with that plan. Especially after taking that long to get ready! Turns out he's got a morbid phobia of being stranded without a ride home....'We're going to Liverpool, for Christ's sake' I protest. '90% of the population are cabbies 'cause there's f' all else to do for work up here!' But he wouldn't be persuaded and disappeared back into his room to strap himself to some electrical contraption that 'helps heal the muscles'. Might help to wrap it round his bonce, as me thinks it's the muscle between his ears that needs healing most...!!
Our first lesson in Liverpool is that they are still doing that 'no trainers' thing in the pretentious, errmm, I mean 'posh' clubs. You know, we used to have that in London in the eighties! Anyway, Ahmod and Tin were refused entry to our chosen club because of their trainers, even though they were wearing some cool and trendy brand. At least Ahmod was...Tin's came from Primark, I think. I, on the other hand, in my scruffy old deck shoes, was more than welcome. I declined in order to keep the party together so we adjourned to a lower class establishment and met some friends of mine for a few scoops.
We left before midnight...so as not to take too much aggro in the morning from 'you know who'...and here came our second Liverpool lesson. Tin had parked his Mum's shiny new Mercedes in a car park nearby and we returned to find that some pikey Scouser had stuck his car in the middle of the exit route and didn't give a monkeys who he'd blocked in. Facing the prospect of having to wait for his return at 3am when the club's kicked out, Tin brought the matter to the attention of the local constabulary and asked for their assistance. Apart from offering to help us find a brick so that we could 'do the window in', they were of no use whatsoever and soon departed to deal with some random throwing up in the gutter. Fortunately, a couple of Scousers were also blocked in and it was a very simple matter to persuade the driver to use his crappy old Renault as a battering ram to barge the offending vehicle out of the way ('mate, I do it all the time to make some parking space in London, honest...') as I think I'd have had more of a challenge persuading Tin to try that course of action with his Mum's Merc...and I was ready for bed.
Sunday dawned to find that one of our finely honed athletes had picked up an injury during the course of the night and would be unavailable to race on the day. The source of the injury remains a subject of much speculation and the feebly offered 'I slipped in the shower' carries no weight with this intrepid reporter...The truth is out there and we shall persevere until it is uncovered, Nimbo!! However, it did provide another opportunity for El Torro to get his muscle twitching machine out, so every cloud does indeed have a silver lining!
And so to the racing. Our first 200m race should have been a breeze as our start left the opposition trailing but our transition to power strokes was far from perfect and, as the boat speed dropped, Worcester came back at us strongly. We hung on at the end to take the race 51.20 to 51.66...straight through to the semi's. Then came our first run in of the day with the BDA. As we came back to the pontoon, a kindly lady from the BDA stepped forward to remind us that we should be carrying a race number on the boat going forward. This distraction came just as our helm, Eddy, was giving some instructions and that short fuse of his, that you'll be familiar with from our training sessions, flared up so that, as she turned to leave, he yelled over the microphone 'Screw the official, listen to me you bastards...' or something like that. Shocking!
Now we were up against newly formed Crusaders and one of the country's top teams, Kingston. The pre-race talk from Eddy emphasised the need to keep fighting to the end even if we were behind, as a fastest losing time might still see us through to the Cup Major Final. That boy needs a little faith, as a team depleted by the absence of Jenny 'slippery when wet' Nimbo and Fast Eddy himself (having to helm due to some obscure BDA regulation that meant we couldn't use a pool helm...) went on to subdue Kingston, winners of the first BDA 200m event of 2010, by the narrow margin of 0.37 of a second. We were in the Cup Major Final with Amathus and Batchworth and with a chance to cause a major upset against these two top raked teams.
In the end, we didn't manage to find another level and had to settle for 3rd place....but are justifiably proud of the new piece of silverware (well, plastic but it looks cool...) that will adorn the offices of our sponsor.
The 500m draw saw us handed the plum draw against Worcester Dragonflies and Execalibre....both well meaning but limited teams that should not present much of a challenge. And that was indeed the case, as we stormed away to win by more than 6 seconds and a lot of clear water from Execalibre. In an uncharacteristic show of leniency, Obergruppenfuhrer Eddy allowed us to coast home without any power or hammer calls, such was the margin of our win. In addition to a second ticking off from the BDA official for his helming during the race, he also received a dressing down from Binh, who was disappointed that the team hadn't taken the opportunity to push itself to the limits, as we should at every race. Top man, Binh....You tell him!
Binh was spot on as our finishing time determined our opponents in the semi and, instead of facing some of the lesser teams, we found ourselves up against Amathus on their home ground, needing a win to make the Cup Major Final. Sub-optimum, you might say. But, boy, what a race! From the moment we found Kham sitting in the boat, keen, eager and ready for the off, we knew it was going to be special. After Martin kindly pointed out to him that it was traditional to face the Dragon's head, not it's arse, when racing and he turned himself around, the rest of us loaded up and we lined up at the start. One thing is for sure after this race, and that is that Amathus will not be taking us for granted ever again. We gave them the fight of their lives, every inch, every stroke of the way. By the time we reached the bridge, we were virtually neck and neck but the gap separating our boats had narrowed to a whisker as Eddy's helming drew us across into their lane. With each stroke, the gap grew narrower and then the clash of paddle on paddle rang out like the sound of gladiatorial swords smashing together. No quarter was given by either team as both Rage and Amathus kept paddling through the melee into the foaming sliver of water between us. Somehow the boats pulled apart towards the end and we hammered our way to the line but crossed a fraction of a second behind them. An awesome effort by all on board and, despite finishing second, a race that should be remembered as one of our finest hours.
Talking of remembering, it seems the BDA officials remembered only too well our helms charming turn of phrase from earlier in the day and instead of us screwing the official, they screwed us with a 5 second time penalty as it was us that had moved over into Amathus' lane! Maybe that's a bit harsh on our helm, Five Second Eddy, so no need to bring it up ever again...okay?
Which brings us neatly to the Cup Minor Final. Back up against Kingston again as well as a powerful BA Hurricanes team. As we had beaten them in the 200m competition, clearly Kingston would relish the chance for revenge and as the 500m is more their discipline, we expected them to pull out all the stops. Well, they pulled out all the stops they had and a few more besides but that was still not good enough to overcome The Ragings Dragons, who took the race by a comfortable 3 seconds with a time of 1:58.25....and you can bet your bottom dollar that no one eased up at the end this time!
3rd in the 200m, 4th in the 500m...and only the second race of the season. We will get better and there are 1st places waiting for us to claim in both disciplines....All we have to do is go out there and take them! Who are we? RAGE!!!
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