The meeting was billed as starting as 7 PM, but that didn’t quite happen. Instead, we milled around and socialized for awhile, and chatted about – what else has America been talking about? – the results of the general election. Sheesh. Also, I had no idea there were so many Blue Oyster Cult fans in the club, and I apologize for not telling everyone about their local concert last Saturday. Okay, when they come into town next I’ll be sure to let everyone know.

After we got tired of waiting we went upstairs to the Firehouse’s unexpectedly nice banquet room and started the meeting proper at 7:45, when Ned called us to order in a firm, yet fatherly, tone of voice.

(By the way, one of my long-term goals for the club is to find us a place we can more or less call our own and cover the walls with WSRFC photos and rugby art – but perhaps that will have to wait. The Firehouse does have distinct promise, however.)

The following members were present: Wes Clark, Mike Clark, Coleman, Bunch, Mancini, Thompson, Lyster, Elvis, Kramer, Big Head Todd, Corry, Ibach, Loesel, Murray, Fasceski, Kermit, Ned, Buzz, Donovan, Parsons, Wilder, VanGraan, Wyatt, Devaney, Zwicker, Tripi, Linden, Barker, Jesse, M. Bardot, Rossi, Watkins and McAtee – 33 in all. Not too shabby. Two full sides plus of drinkin’, two-fisted muscular Suburbs he-men. I venture to say that Fairfax hasn’t seen such an absolute collection of manhood in quite some time. Why, the place was positively awash in testosterone.

Anyway… we began with my report. The only thing worth noting here is that I talked to the Guinness Guy earlier today, and he suggested he could make another donation in the Spring. Huzzah! I’m going to try to get him out to a match this year so we can laud his praises. Also, we’ll need to update the bylaws and get them to the VA Corporation Commission – which I plan to work on this coming year.

The treasurer’s report was read in absentia, which is a Latin term for, "Archie couldn’t make it to the meeting." Anyway, we have a balance of $2,689 – not too bloody bad, compared to previous seasons. Perhaps we’ll be able to afford a lit field in the Spring after all.

I should point out that while Ned was addressing the club, his gaze was at least partially averted to the video game machine to his right, which occasionally flashed images of scantily-clad women. Gee, I hope this doesn’t get him into trouble with Suzanne.

Pete Murray rose, and with the leonine visage, piercing blue eyes and booming voice that are the hallmarks of a natural leader, encouraged everyone to help out at the upcoming MARFU tournament we are sponsoring 18/19 November. It was noted that a good turnout for the club, all of us wearing appropriate club clothing, will advance Suburbs publicity-wise. (Unless, of course, we really suck at grilling the hamburgers again.)

Ned pointed out that we will need help with the various committees, not the least of which is the field committee. Eddie, the Crazy One, has been doing this for two years now and it's time for a rest for him. So somebody step forward, okay?

Just then Elvis’ cell phone went off, playing a beepy rendition of "Way Down Upon the Swanee River." (Why that song? I’d have chosen Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance March #3, or the 18^th variation from Rachmaninov’s "Variations on a Theme by Paganini.") This caused a momentary stir.

Buzz McClain, the world’s most media-savvy referee, gave a brief description of the planned banquet, tentatively planned for 3 February 2001. His tres charmant wife Leslie and Bill Judge will be doing the arrangements – the theme is WSRFC’s 25^th Year of Rugby (1976-2001), and he suggested getting a good show of alumni and Old Boys. (Old Boys always class up a rugby affair, and the chicks throw themselves at us ‘cause we look so distinguished.) Last year we had 75 present, which made for an awesome conga line. This year let’s get 100! Yeah! That’s the ticket! Buzz! Buzz!

Ahem.

President Ned, trying hard not to look at women modeling thong underwear on the video monitor, mentioned that we would investigate winter basketball on Wednesdays and football on Sundays. In fact, he’s working out the applications now.

Brad Barker, our fund-raising chairman, got up and discussed a golf tournament fund-raiser. I must admit to a senior moment during this and didn’t catch it. Anyway, details may be forthcoming via e-mail. Brad was dressed in black pants and a black shirt. With his black hair he reminded me of Johnny Cash. It’s true, Brad once "…shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die."

Then we got into the officer elections. Citing five years in the club, three of those being an officer, Ned announced that it was time to resume simply being a player and stood down from the presidency. Pete "RePete" Murray was acclaimed as the new Top Dog. Thank you for serving, Ned, and thank you for volunteering, Pete.

An election for vice president was held and Paul "Lumberjack" Jenkins assumed the post after the dust settled. A dark cloud was cast on the celebrations, however, when Kelly "Weenie Boy" Watkins cried out, "But I didn’t understand the ballot!"

As the beers started to take affect, the meeting got noisier, with the occasional fellow shouting, "Guys, shut up!" It was time to move along. Meanwhile, career Englishman Neil Devaney kept his own counsel near the back of the room, eyeing the scene with a lidded gaze that could only mean tyranny and mutation. His henchman "Sweets" Rossi stood by to do his bidding.

Kevin "Archie" McCall was reaffirmed as the club treasurer for 2001 in his absence. That’ll learn him. By the way, if he drops a quarter in your beer you may want to consider dumping it out and pouring yourself a new one.

We then moved on to the superlatives voting. So many great players! So many choices! Yet, the club hath spoken, and I have tabulated the results. It seems just to me. The awards will be awarded at the banquet.

Finally, at 9:03 PM by my Helbros, we adjourned for another year.

It is now past midnight. Goodnight Moon. Goodnight Hat Hair. Goodnight Pete Parsons in his Rocking Chair. Goodnight Lineouts. Goodnight Scrums. Goodnight, all you Beery Rugby Bums.

Respectfully Submitted,

Wes "Brigham" Clark

WSRFC Secretary