On This Day In History
The dawn broke peaceful and still, giving no hint or indication of the battling fury that the day would bring. The sun tried valiantly to penetrate the Carolina mist swirling between the tall pine trees, straining to cast its rays on the early morning dew that coated the battleground.
Suddenly in the distance, the opening strains of The Verve’s ‘Bitter Sweet Symphony’ struck up, quiet and elusive at first but building steadily to a deafening cacophony. The enemy exchanged panic stricken looks and shifted anxiously behind their defences, trigger fingers twitching for action. What form of unholy hell was about to be unleashed?
And then they appeared. Tall, broad and imposing in their uniforms of blood red, striding purposefuly through the mist in an awesome slow motion (a bit like Bruce Willis' astronaut drillers in 'Armageddon'), faces of stony determination, bellies full of fire and pancakes, resolute in their cause, brothers in arms, ready to vanquish or die trying.
For five long hours the battle raged, weapons of steel and wood flashing in the sun as the air filled with the agonising bedlam of groans and cheers; crushing setbacks followed by optimistic ascendancies. The outcome ebbed and flowed continuously, never certain, always in doubt and it was close to sunset by the time the winning putt was holed and our magnificent Myrtle Beach 6 claimed the inaugural MB Cup. That's how I remember it anyway.
What a day. What an absolutely incredible day. Was it really one whole year ago? Two years of bragging rights, a free dinner and a big shiny trophy and tonight we will gather and clash tankards to relive the glorious feats and remind the enemy that there’s still another year of bragging rights left. Drink heartily my lads and feast well and we will meet again next year in the deserts of Arizona to defend our honour, our trophy, our FREEEEEEEEEDOM.
Suddenly in the distance, the opening strains of The Verve’s ‘Bitter Sweet Symphony’ struck up, quiet and elusive at first but building steadily to a deafening cacophony. The enemy exchanged panic stricken looks and shifted anxiously behind their defences, trigger fingers twitching for action. What form of unholy hell was about to be unleashed?
And then they appeared. Tall, broad and imposing in their uniforms of blood red, striding purposefuly through the mist in an awesome slow motion (a bit like Bruce Willis' astronaut drillers in 'Armageddon'), faces of stony determination, bellies full of fire and pancakes, resolute in their cause, brothers in arms, ready to vanquish or die trying.
For five long hours the battle raged, weapons of steel and wood flashing in the sun as the air filled with the agonising bedlam of groans and cheers; crushing setbacks followed by optimistic ascendancies. The outcome ebbed and flowed continuously, never certain, always in doubt and it was close to sunset by the time the winning putt was holed and our magnificent Myrtle Beach 6 claimed the inaugural MB Cup. That's how I remember it anyway.
What a day. What an absolutely incredible day. Was it really one whole year ago? Two years of bragging rights, a free dinner and a big shiny trophy and tonight we will gather and clash tankards to relive the glorious feats and remind the enemy that there’s still another year of bragging rights left. Drink heartily my lads and feast well and we will meet again next year in the deserts of Arizona to defend our honour, our trophy, our FREEEEEEEEEDOM.
posted by Neil @ 8:24 am
2 comments
2 Comments:
Longest 2 years of my life!
It's yours to lose, my friend.
...or to retain! Oh, and there's still another year to go!
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