Come gather round, children
It's high time ye learned
'Bout a team named The Bombers
In a field named Ben Burn
Is there anything worse than giving the responsibility of writing a report to an Argentinian with limited skills in a foreign language and serious issues to understand what his teammates say and write? Well, it seems there is. Playing at Ben Burn (Bin Birn in New Zealand English) on a rainy winter afternoon and being the second slot on that field can be worse. A lot worse.
Reality is that if we wait for good sunny weather in Wellington to play some footy, chances are we will spend most of the winter postponing games or just skipping them and going straight to the pub. Which after seeing Bombers performance during the last few games don’t seem to be a bad idea at all.
Playing against a team called "Fossils" makes a lot of sense when as soon as you jump into the field your boots look like they have been just found in an archaeological site. Someone could say some players look like that too but it will better not to mention it and keep peace within the team.
Match begins and the two teams try to stand still in a field that loses green surface on a higher speed than the Amazon rain forest. Soon the jerseys can't be distinguished anymore and there are 22 brown tops running all over the field. Short passes are not the best idea but long shots with a ball heavier than a cannonball is not an easy task. In the middle of confusion, Fossils' number 11 (although he should use number 1 as every other loosehead prop in the world) shot from 30 yards and finds the net. It seems it’s going to be a long afternoon
The damage of climate change affects what it should be the most beautiful sport in the world and turns it into a sad show of bad timing tackles, awful passes and jumps to nowhere. Having the possession of the ball is a risk that nobody is willing to take. Only Hansie, JB and Marky Mark seems to adapt to the weather conditions, well protected under their umbrellas. The 2-0 confirms what we all know by now: It’s going to be a long afternoon.
Suddenly, just like the phoenix who arise from its ashes, the men in black found their momentum. Less than a minute after the second goal and at the first time that the Bombers could make three passes in a row, the ball reached Jackal, who scored after a weak reaction of the goalkeeper. And to everyone's shock, the draw comes through the feet of the jackal again (the left one, to be specific). Panic takes over the home team, can be seen in their eyes.
Any team in the world after a comeback like this becomes the owner of the game. Not the Bombers. No sir. This team refuses to follow rules because it creates their own. Why to be like everyone else when you can build your own path, be different than the rest, follow the less traveled road. And to be unique is the reason why, after the equalizer, the Bombers did the opposite. Third goal for the Fossils and back to square one.
During the second half rain becomes present again in Ben Burn to give some epic frame to the match but other than the classic discussions of Carl and Tiberius with the rivals and the ref, nothing happens. Game is coming to an end with some crossing passes to the penalty area, few shots to goal and a couple of occasions for the home team to seal the deal, well neutralized by Asst Gardener (one day I promise to find out the origin of those nicknames).
The last few minutes saw the Bombers trying by all means to reach a draw that by then would taste like victory. The field said enough and conditions were more likely to be Stalingrad in the winter of 1943 than Karori in 2017. Or maybe Karori always looks like Stalingrad, who knows. Score didn't change and the wisdom of the great Alfredo di Stefano reaches the shores of New Zealand: we played like never, we lost as always.
By cub reporter Iggy Nacho