D 1 Report - Blean Herons - won 4-1

From Phil

Heavy autumnal rain was blattering Robin's silver van like rapid rifle fire as we approached the Blean Tavern last Tuesday evening for the Whitstable Natives A team's league match against the Blean Herons. The forecast was diabolical, so we were all anticipating another night of aquatic petanque. John Keats wrote about the "season of mists and mellow fruitfulness" in his Ode to Autumn.

"Season of snails and sullen skies" would be more like it and, yes, it did seem that we'd by-passed Summer altogether and moved straight to October. We discussed the desirability of moving to Iceland, where the climate is probably more conducive to playing petanque and they've got a better football team but, shortly after we arrived, the rain abated and for the remainder of the evening the activities took place under skies that were just gently weeping. 

The last time that we'd played petanque at the Blean Tavern the piste had been a muddy muck-heap but we were pleased to see that they had addressed this problem by dressing it with a layer of gravel and the surface was water-free. The Herons are a team of very senior petanque players, who have probably forgotten more about the game than I will ever know. This is them playing in the Minoan Coastal league a few years after they were founded:

                                                                                 

                                                                                

On this occasion the Herons were fielding many of their veteran players and, although the Natives emerged with a 4-1 win, they all played with the enthusiasm of spring chickens and with no little skill. The triples games both went the way of the Natives, with the usual line-ups of Peter, Duncan and Phil winning 13-3 and Robert, Robin and Alan winning 13-5. Pete was able to demonstrate his affinity with the game by marching straight from his car onto the petanque piste and, with no warm up, sending his first boule to nestle next to the coche nine metres away. Duncan was also at his imperious best, using forcing shots when required to open up the situation in the Natives' favour and giving me the opportunity to throw a few boules into the gaps! There are two pistes at the Blean Tavern, an upper and a lower. We were using both of them because there was only one match being played there that night, so I only saw the final few ends of the other game but the Natives appeared to be in complete control.

The upper piste was then split into two thin ribbons of terrain for the doubles games and a couple of them were played here, while the other took place on the more expansive lower piste. Robin and Phil were thoroughly "done-over" on one of the narrow pistes by Les Taylor and Ray Keemer-Richards. A conflagration of unfortunate ricochets in successive ends was the main cause of our downfall as we ended up giving the opposition 8 unearned points in a 13-3 loss. But that's all in the game, as they say, and despite Les's apparent frailty he can still throw a mean boule when the need arises. 

Next door, meanwhile, Alan and Robert were keeping themselves ahead of Bert Taylor and Malcolm Minnis with their usual blend of precision pointing, meteoric lobs and constructive shooting. In the end, they won a shade cosily, as they say in racing circles, by 13 points to 8. On the bottom piste Pete and Duncan were engaged in a titanic struggle for supremacy against the sisters AyJay Keemer-Richards and Christine Clacey, who represent the youth section of the team. They proved to be quite stubborn opposition and a display of genuine Native skills was required to overcome them. After a lengthy tussle the Natives posted a well earned 13-11 victory.

The post-match buffet of mini spring-rolls and goujons of chicken, with chunky chips and sweet chilli sauce provided a delicious supplement to a very pleasant evening of petanquery. However, the one image that I will find most memorable about this match did not directly involve petanque at all. When the proceedings had concluded Les Taylor was making his way gingerly down a slippery grass slope, carrying the scoreboards under his arm. Suddenly his feet were swept away and he was up in the air looking for all the world as if he was about to hit the ground in a crumpled heap. But no. He recovered with all the agility of a young cat and landed on both feet with the scoreboards still safely tucked underneath his arm and a sheepish grin on his face. I haven't seen such gymnastic dexterity since the days of Olga Korbut (younger readers may have to look her up!) Bearing in mind that Les is at least 103 years old, this was some feat!

Thus concludes the first half of the season. So far it has been fun but wet. Let's hope the remainder of the season will see an improvement in the weather to go along with the excellent progress that both Natives teams are currently making in their respective divisions of East Kent Coastal Petanque League.