Our Teams:
Oxford I
Mark Pitfield (c), John Murray, Ian Ashpole, Lei Xiao, Malcolm Begg
Oxford II
Richard Walters (c), Sam Packwood, Joe Sturge, James Cholerton, Ben Charlston
Oxford III
Lloyd Jones (c), Simon Thwaite, Dan Fulford, Tom Preston, Paul Carter
Day 1: The Adventure Begins
BUCS-madness 2010 began in earnest at the St. Giles café. Lloyd Jones and Dan Fulford immediately paid the price for trusting Ian ‘I heart Canterbury’ Ashpole, and his, “I think it opens at 7,” claim. However once the café had opened (a mere hour later), and we were all present and breakfasted, we made for the minibus. As we got over our shock at Lei Xiao’s “I’m not drinking,” revelation, we embarked upon an extended game of ‘Where’s Walters?'
Word reached us that Rich would be meeting us at the train station, and a heated discussion ensued about the direction from which he would be arriving. Eventually, after we’d held the train station car park, and most of West Oxford, at a standstill for a few minutes, Rich appeared. After the inevitable game of ‘pull away just as someone tries to get in the minibus’, we were back on the road. And no sooner had this occurred, than Lei discovered a can in his pocket, and put all our minds to rest.
It was at this juncture that Malcolm Begg decided that he would attempt the ‘flair clearance’ of making it all the way to BUCS without directional assistance, on the grounds that he was pretty sure of the way to Milton Keynes, a paltry 128 miles from our final destination. Perhaps the pressure was beginning to tell as he responded to John Murray’s, “Are we there yet?” (asked as were travelling through Botley), with a simple, “Yes dickhead.”
The rest of the trip down featured a combination of singing along to various 90s girl bands on the radio, flying bottles, and Walters's despair at trying, and failing, to eat not one, not even two, but three tangerines during a coach journey. However the moment of the journey occurred as we approached the outskirts of Great Yarmouth. Realising that we had a solid half hour to travel the remaining twenty miles, we felt confident enough to stop for a brief comfort break, and Malcolm duly instructed Lloyd to look out for a lay-bye. Unfortunately Lloyd’s choice was perhaps a touch short of ideal, as the ‘lay-bye’ Lloyd pointed out to Malcolm turned out to be a 20 foot long patch of dirt. With traffic passing us on the outside, Malcolm had no choice but to execute an emergency stop, finally bringing the minibus to a halt mere inches from a ‘flowers for sale’ sign. After breathing a sigh of relief, and partaking in numerous nerve steadying cigarettes, we were once more on our way. Unfortunately the flair clearance came to an end at a tricky intersection.
Upon our arrival at the caravan park, not a moment passed before we were questioned by a Glamorgan team, looking distinctly the worse for wear, about a mysterious ‘Shelley’ who claimed to have known such Oxford legends as Adam Brown during his tenure in the city. Needless to say, none of us had ever heard of him.
As we collected the caravan keys, we plotted the creation of the ‘lad-a-van’, as Mark Pitfield, our ever sociable captain, declared that he didn’t mind being in a caravan on his own, at the other end of the park, so long as he could get to the practice tables. The 2nd team meanwhile were busy racing against the clock to be on time for their playoff match, to decide whether they would play in this year’s Championship division. After dumping our stuff, we headed down to the arena just in time to see the seconds brush their opponents aside, 6-1.
After this, singles was the order of the day. This was not Oxford’s finest hour, with most of our fifteen strong contingent failing to make it past the qualifying stages. The highlight of the day was definitely the second frame of Lloyd’s match, for all the wrong reasons. Trailing 1-0, Lloyd sunk a long red to set up a simple black. However, as he strolled confidently around the table to level the match, he tripped and fell to the ground, fouling a yellow in the process. Most of the crowd reserved their laughter until they had seen Lloyd was okay, with the exception of Malcolm, who was vociferous from the off. Yet the drama was not over. Lloyd’s opponent inexplicably played the black, and a disorientated Lloyd recovered his composure to call a foul. In a final twist Lloyd then played his opponent’s remaining yellow over the pocket, potted it, screwing for position on the black, before his bewildered opponent called the foul, and tapped in a simple black for 2-0.
James Cholerton and Ben Charlston were the two Oxford players to emerge from the singles with some credit, registering impressive runs to the last 64 and last 32 respectively, with James knocking out the tenth seed en route. Aside from this, Joe Sturge’s frequent shouts of, “Good thinking,” following poor or fortunate shots at least ensured matches were played against a backdrop of good natured banter.
The evening saw a tired and largely frustrated Oxford team retire to the caravans, to console themselves with beer (or whisky in Lei’s case) and for some team bonding over a game of ‘I have never’, played strictly according to the ‘What goes on tour…’ principle. The highlight of this was an inebriated John Murray claiming to be able to down a pint in sub-5 seconds, and proceeding to take over twice that long. Having been vocal in his criticism, Lloyd was quick to accept the challenge of beating John’s time on pain of consuming a pint comprised principally of his team mates’ pubic hair. A conservative 8.8 seconds saved him from this fate.
Day 2: Team Matches Get Underway
As most of the squad slept off their hangovers, the thirds were rudely awakened to begin their challenge in the Shield competition at 9.30am. Despite widespread chaos and disorganisation, the thirds some how made it to their first match on time. Several pints of squash settled our stomachs, as we cued well through blurry eyes. However they took their toll as a drawn out third frame saw an increasingly uncomfortable Lloyd consider concession, before hammering in a black and sprinting to the bathroom, without time even for the customary post match handshake.
The day saw Oxford thirds finish with two victories, the seconds with a win and a loss, and the firsts with a draw, and a 6-0 whitewash, courtesy of Portsmouth I. After the day’s play, a select group of hardcore pool enthusiasts made their way into Norwich in search of a Riley’s and some table time, whilst the rest of the squad remained behind to compete in the fliers. Sam Packwood, despite his vocal complaints about Lloyd’s unorthodox positional play and a 2-1 loss, recovered to win our Riley’s mini-tournament, before we headed to ASDA in search of supplies. This shopping trip degenerated into a Q & A session, largely dictated by Packwood and Fulford, on the subject of what Lloyd would and would not eat for various amounts of money, and in various time frames. Eventually we settled on a loaf of wholemeal bread, in ten minutes.
Not fully rid of the effects of the previous night’s revelry, we opted for a low key poker game, largely characterised by Cholerton and Tom Preston’s repeated attempts to outplay each other, and the thinning of Packwood’s wallet. Before we knew it, it was midnight, and time for the bread challenge. However, a mere thirty seconds in, it quickly dawned on Lloyd that he was over-matched, his final effort amounting to thirteen slices in twenty minutes. Lei, distinctly unimpressed with this performance, and to Lloyd’s utter disbelief, went on to finish the remaining nine slices, including two crusts, in just over six minutes. (Lloyd has since repeated this challenge, and been unable to better nine slices in eight minutes). After a few more beers it was bed time (4am), in preparation for another early start.
Day 3: Team Matches Continue
Day 3 was a nervous day for all involved. The thirds ensured their qualification for the knockout stages of the Shield with two draws and a victory, as the seconds made sure of their place in the Trophy quarter finals with a win and a loss. Yet there was drama as the firsts beat York III to go into their final group match with a slim chance of making the Championship last 16. As Oxford I pulled ahead of Warwick III, the news from the other table looked bleak, as Essex I led York III, a result that would send Oxford I down into the trophy regardless of the Warwick result. Fortunately a York rally saw Oxford I reach the Championship knockout stages by the narrowest of margins.
Through all this, there was serious controversy. The first incident occurred during the Shield last 16 that evening. With the match level at 2-2, Lloyd stepped up to play the loudest member of Queen’s Belfast II. In an even game, Lloyd seemed to have engineered himself a winning position by blocking a top pocket, at which his opponent called foul. Unwilling to concede a foul he hadn’t seen, Lloyd called a referee over and was given the benefit of the doubt, before winning the frame, and paving the way for Tom Preston to sink a long black under pressure for a 6-3 victory. This victory would promote Oxford III to the Championship the following year, and deny Queen's II. It was only after the match was over that James Cholerton quietly mentioned that Lloyd had unmistakably fouled, as Irish fury could still be heard coming from the competition desk.
The second controversy occurred during a heated encounter between the seconds and Strathclyde I. The Strathclyde team had earned captain, Richard Walters's, ire after celebrating a piece of poor fortune following a good shot from Ben Charlston. With Ben having gone on to win the frame, Rich commented loudly in the direction of the Strathclyde team that it was a “well deserved victory.” However few could resist seeing the funny side, as Strathclyde replied in kind after winning the next frame.
The third involved a confrontation between team mates following the Strathclyde match, as Sam took exception to Ben’s comments regarding his shot choice during a frame.
Essentially Packwood made a bit of Spackwood of his frame, so Ben was like, “Mate, what’s the Crackwood? That was Cackwood,” at which point Sam, pretty taken Abackwood at this perceived Attackwood, was like, “You better step Backwood, before I unleash some Smackwood.” Ben was having none of it, replying, “What evs mate, last night I emptied my Sackwood all over your mum’s Rackwood.” Fortunately Walters, experienced captain he is, stepped in with, “Wooaaa lads, calm down, we’re on Vacwood, forget the Blackwood, we’ve got some beers in the Shackwood, so cut each other some Slackwood.” But it was okay because they made up later when Ben dropped his Snackwood, and Packwood was like, “Here man, you can have half my Flapjackwood.” It was a real Kodakwood moment, and it set everything right back on Trackwood.
After that touching union, we spent the rest of the night on the practice tables whilst partaking in the Speed Pool competition. Walters's team looked to be going comfortably into the second round when Lloyd, playing first of 5, surged into a huge lead after potting 14 balls in stunningly quick time. However, he then proceeded to take a full minute playing 'let's see how many cushions I can hit with the final ball'. Eventually, he sank it, but inevitably left too much for his team mates to make up. Unfortunately, the first team fared little better and also were knocked out at the first stage. In practice, Ben went on an ungodly winning streak, Sturge played Lloyd’s Irish friend from earlier for pints, mostly losing, and Simon and Lloyd rinsed some Leeds I guys, despite their protests that Simon and Lloyd were “only third team after all.”
Before we knew it, it was bed time, and we all drifted off with thoughts of trophies dancing through our minds.
Day 4: Endgame
Despite all three of our teams making it through to day 4, that was where our success was to end. Oxford I were beaten 6-3 by Queen’s Belfast, Oxford II lost to York II by the same score line, whilst Oxford III fell 6-1 to Bristol I.
After taking the team photos and tidying the caravans we were once again on the road. Whilst we may have lost our matches, we had picked up Adam Brown, who would join us for the first stage of our journey home. There was just enough time for a second round of ‘what won’t Lloyd eat?’ before our arrival at Little Chef, whereupon Paul Carter made the sensible point that the potential health hazards of Lloyd downing half a pint of shampoo could be somewhat inconvenient in a cramped minibus hundreds of miles from home. This verdict was supported by a little web research, which, depending on the source, considered the ramifications of drinking shampoo to be somewhere between violent vomiting and a painful death.
Full of lunch, and tired from the weekend’s exploits, the journey home was largely without incident, with the exception of Walters beating Malcolm’s record of 39 cars overtaken on the journey down by the narrowest of margins.
Conclusion
In a weekend with ups, downs, and controversies in abundance, all three teams put in creditable performances, and will all be representing Oxford next year in the Championship division. Now once again, ladies and gentlemen, our teams:
Oxford I
Oxford II
Oxford III
And finally, Oxford raise Lloyd up in celebration of write-up talents:
