The season ended with a predictable shemozzle. On the night of the "finals" all teams played two short games. We rapidly ran into trouble in our first game, against Walkers Coaches, and lost something like 11-4. So that was it, as far as we were concerned. The team we were supposed to play our second game against seemed to have forfeited, so we drifted to the bar. Bemoaning our performance and berating the stupid finals system, we all felt very sorry for ourselves.
To lighten the mood I announced that this was my last game. Dean was aghast. I had already had a quiet word to erstwhile Bowling Shane, Richie Angus, who was spectating. He said he would be happy to slot into the lead role next season.
As I revealed in a blog exclusive some weeks ago, I am giving up bowls to concentrate my meagre spare time on soccer. Bowls is fun but is not doing anything for my fitness. I have many happy years of bowls ahead when I am in the 65-115 age bracket. My brittle feet and creaky legs might only keep me going for one or two more years of soccer, however, and for now that is going to be my sole sport.
After a bit of mooching we were called out to play against three characters who were floating about like flotsam. Richie was quick off the mark to make up four. Dean was reluctant to rise from his seat, and on arriving last was told he had to play for the other side. The flotsam claimed to be a real team who also had drawn a forfeit, but we never really believed them. We beat them comfortably.
When all games were complete it was obvious Wrong Bias were the champs - having won both their matches handily. Master of Ceremonies Merv drew the lucky scoresheet for the carton of stubbies. Then he blithely announced that the winner of the blue roster, and the best team all season, was The Bowling Shanes. We were stunned, and appeared ungracious as we shambled out onto the green, held up our as-yet-un-etched medallions, handed them back and shambled off again.
Wrong Bias were cross. We were confused. What about all that stuff about "finals"? Why play tonight at all? Merv came past and confided, "The Wrong Bias boys are pretty pissed off, but aaah - stuff 'em eh?" I shook their hands on the way out and there were no hard feelings.
So. I will hand the size 4-and-fifteen-sixteenths Cross of Lorraines over to Dave and hopefully he will have many happy seasons, and perhaps will hand them back in 2033 when I turn 65.