Hello Suburbs!

Below is the official report from my tour in Manila as stated by our captain. The court jester he refers to is me, as I was awarded "the tour fool" medallion.

Manila makes New Orleans seem like the Vatican. Combine that with 24 teams of rugby players and you have quite a weekend. We had teams from all over Asia with very few Asian team members; mainly Europeans and Aussies (those bastards). The play was quite interesting as were the teams. Each team has a "theme" or touring uniform. We wore silly flower hats and sarongs everywhere we went. There was a team called "The Flying Elvises" from Malaysia that dressed as, guess what? The Hong Kong police team dressed as Franciscan monks and even played a game in their robes and monk wigs. (They lost) It was quite humorous seeing them arrive as monks with their "escorts" from the night before. I believe the word for that is "sacrilege."

We won one, lost three. I scored two tries and was a hero as far as I was concerned. I have no idea what Manila is like as I was either at the pitch, blind drunk or passed out in my hotel. A rugby experience worthy of the Western Suburbs.

Next tour is Phuket, Thailand at the end of May, 2001. I will be home the last week of April and hope to catch a Suburbs practice if not a game. I will bring a jersey for an after-game auction. (A new one, I swear.)

I will continue to update as I represent Western Suburbs abroad. If you see a dramatic increase in Asian recruits you will know my endeavors have been successful.

Ignore the picture of the two French guys. They are more scary in person.

Scrumhalf, Late of Western Suburbs, now playing with the Seoul Survivors

Gentlemen.

Another Manila 10's has come and gone, and with it, another gallant effort from the Seoul Survivors. In addition to which, we got a few games of rugby in, but managed to get knocked out earlier than usual, which of course, led us to hit the Pimms and beer much sooner on Sunday than is our custom. Such is life sometimes.

It was undoubtedly the most eclectic bunch of Survivors in recent memory. Included in our ranks were a lost French tourist, an Arab Sheik, someone who managed to get on the wrong plane from Australia, and a court jester straight out of medieval Europe.

The first night started out in typical fashion, the boys getting in to Makati right at the bewitching hour. An early nickname had even already been earned as the aforementioned court jester "Sea Bass" had managed to sleep through the flight down and then continued his slumber on into the first night out on the town. Serious encroachment of the rules. The rest of the boys carried the flag well, however, and as has become custom, were among the last stumblers to make it back to their hotel. A couple of slower-than-average ones even required an extra wake-up call from a rather annoyed captain the following morning & a friendly reminder of which planet they were on.

From there it was on to the pitch. Our numbers had oddly swelled a bit since the initial head count, but we managed to squeeze into the vans and get to the pitch in time to play like the hungover louts we were against an well-organized but beatable team from HKFC. Our next match put us against the eventual tournament runners-up, a team of guys that looked like they had played together before from Baharain (our secret weapon, the Sheik, although ready for action was unable to penetrate this group, but, alas, more than made up for it with other groups over the weekend).

Despite getting blown out in the first half, we came back quite strongly in the second and played an even half against them. Our final game came against a group of angry Hong Kong Policemen, who made more than a few late knocks, scrapes, and tugs, including a notable slam against our Aussie tourist. Despite this and some very questionable officiating from a ref that was undoubtedly on parole from HK and being closely watched by the opposition, we hung on for our only victory of the weekend.

The victory against "Old Bill" put us in the Plate bracket the next day, where we promptly lost to the eventual runners-up of that final, a combined team of players from Guam and Macau; thereby putting us into the spectator bracket for the remainder of the tournament where we fared much better indeed.

Afterwards, we had our traditional post-tournament team dinner at what used to be our traditional restaurant. Safe to say we'll be looking for a new place to go next year. For the first time in recent history, we managed to have a team dinner that didn't include any food... but was made up for with a very memorable court session. After a series of "table-banging" incidents, and a court jester crawling on the floor of the restaurant and running into a bathroom door, plant, and a few other objects, we quickly made for the more welcoming arms of a nearby bar to resume the evening's festivities.

Before I finish, a quick thank you must go out to all those who made the trip. Especially to our old Survivor buddy JC who made it all the way from France, and to Chris James, who managed to put together an impossible flight schedule and hook up with us in Manila. As well to the much-hailed return of the Dear Captain to Manila, offering plenty of "on-the-spot guidance" to rugby players and entertainers alike. Finally, a thank you must go out to Joe Day, who not only made it there to join us but was also a constant source of help and encouragement on the sideline - from an organizer's viewpoint it really made a difference.

As for the rest of the story, well... the rules are well-known by all.

Maybe next weekend.

Ted

The Dear Captain and Hanbok Photographer