Matches 5    The slaughter of the boys' rugby team continues. 
By Hardie Hardiewh@aol.com



The school PE teachers had arranged for a couple of end of term matches
between the boys and the girls. The first match, seven-a-side hockey, had
ended disastrously for the boys, who were hammered eighteen nil! Even worse,
at a 'humiliation ceremony' after the game, where the losers were merely
expected to kneel at the feet of the winners, the girls had gone on to totally
dominate the boys and subject them to complete humiliation. Much to the girls'
surprise, the boys seemed to accept their fate, and even to enjoy being
subjugated by girls! Now the boys' rugby team were also being comprehensively
beaten by the girls!

Miss Forbes, the Head Of School continues her narrative:-

I must explain that I had told everyone concerned that my sole purpose in
hearing these accounts was to gather material for my PhD thesis in psychology.
No one would be penalised in any way because of what they told me. Any
disciplinary action resulting from the events of that day had already been
taken care of by the teachers in charge.

I have edited the accounts slightly, to make them easier to read. This was
what Joanna Ridley had to say!

'Hi, I'm Joanna Ridley and I played scrum-half for the girls' seven-a-side
rugby team. Although I'd been kicked very painfully in the side by Eric
Williams during a loose maul, I was feeling elated as we trotted back to our
positions after scoring yet another 'try'. I had played a major part in two of
our scores and was well pleased with my performance so far.

I felt a little bit of sympathy for David Foot, the boys' scrum-half. He was
my direct opponent and I'd given him a really hard time! It was the first time
I'd played against a boy and couldn't believe how easy it was to dominate him.

He was still full of himself, though. He was the one trying to lift the boys
as they lined up for the restart after our latest score gave us girls a lead
of twenty-one points to nil!

"Looks as if David's appointed himself boys' captain," said Paula Smith, our
flying winger. "Go for him, Jo. Destroy him, and they're finished!"

I thought they looked finished anyway, but I was thrilled to be the one who
had to hunt down the boys' most important player. I'm kind of ashamed to admit
it, but I was now keener than ever to get after my opponent and break his
spirit.

The chance to start the process came almost right away. The boys kicked off
again, and, more by luck than anything else, the ball skimmed over the ground,
hit Betty on the knee as it bounced awkwardly, and cannoned into touch.

It was the first line-out of the game. Here, the forwards line up opposite
each other, about two feet apart and five yards in from the touch-line. The
ball is thrown in between the two lines of forwards and they fight for the
ball. This was one aspect of the game where we couldn't compete against the
boys. They were much taller than our forwards, and could jump up and claim the
ball without too much difficulty.

Miss had told us not to contest their line-outs but to wait until they got the
ball, then smash into them! This proved very effective!

David threw the ball into the line-out, then ran round behind his forwards,
ready to receive the ball. Ross Campbell jumped up and caught the ball. He
also caught Monica Friend ! She fairly smashed her body into him as soon as
his feet touched the ground, clawing at the ball like a tigress, knocking her
large, male opponent over, holding him down as the ball spurted clear.

David tried to gather up the loose ball as it bounced awkwardly. As soon as he
got hold of it I pounced, wrapping an arm round his neck as tightly as I could
and twisting as I let my body drop, taking the boy down with me, screwing his
neck as we fell.

Betty and Fiona were in like lightning, beating the boys' forwards to the
breakdown, getting their feet to the ball, and to David who was making
panicky, gurgling, yelpy sounds as I held him down. Then the boys' forwards
arrived and it all ended up in one big pile up, with David at the bottom with
my arm still wrapped round his neck!

Out of the ruck came gasp of pain. I heard Betty say, "You rathead...!" Then
were was another cry of pain from one of the boys.

Then the whistle shrilled and the referee was saying, "All right, break it up.
That's enough! Let's have a scrum down. Girls' ball."

We disentangled ourselves. Eric Williams was kneeling on the grass, head down,
moaning, rubbing his groin.

"Bastard grabbed my tit," Betty confided to me. "He isn't wearing a jock
strap! Got his balls!"

David was struggling to get to his feet, gasping for air, looking pale and
distinctly groggy. If it had been me on the receiving end I'd have been angry
as hell, thirsting for revenge, eager to do battle once more. But not David.

As the scrum formed and I prepared to put the ball in, he gave me a look which
showed a mixture of hurt and fear, as if he couldn't believe that a demure
little girl like me had worked him over so badly. I glared at him. He looked
away. He was cowed.

So were the boys' forwards. Williams was still suffering from whatever Betty
had done to his balls. Campbell had been shaken up by Monica's tackle at the
line-out, and, together with Rundle, all three of the boys' forwards had been
savaged by the girls in the ensuing maul.

Now they were suffering again as both sets of forwards strove to dominate in
the scrum. Once again the girls were underneath the boys' shoulders and Betty
was boring in like crazy, pulling Campbell completely off balance.

Not that Mr. Dickson was paying much attention. He was transfixed by the sight
of the three girls' pert young backsides, and smoothly muscled limbs as they
strained to overpower the bigger, stronger boys with their better, and, in
Betty's case, somewhat dubious technique.

Shouting "Now!" I fed the ball into the scrum. Once more the girls' concerted,
upward heave was enough to force the boys to give way.

I went quickly round behind the scrum as the ball came back on our side. I
picked it up, and, instead of passing out to Joanne at stand-off, I tucked the
ball under one arm and ran straight at David. As he bent, hesitantly, to
tackle me, I didn't even try to side step, but just stuck my free hand
straight into the top of his head and pushed down in a perfect 'hand off'.
This sent David nose diving to the ground, while the momentum from my push
sent me round his falling body and off up field.

Once again the boys' line was broken. Scott Hooper came across to take me out,
but I side stepped him neatly and left him for dead. There was support all
round me as both Martin Bryant and Don Fletcher cut across field to try to
head me off, and the sensible thing to have done was to have passed the ball
to someone else. But I felt utterly confident. My adrenaline was surging.
After living in the shadow of these boys during all my school years, I, a
girl, was asserting myself, proving myself a better player than any of them,
dominating them at their own game,

I feinted a pass to Joanne. Both boys bought the 'dummy'. Then a quick check,
and change of pace left them looking foolish as they crashed into each other
and were left sprawling on the ground as I glided past them and ran in yet
another 'try' for the girls.

I felt fantastic as the girl spectators went wild with excitement. I'd taken
on and beaten the whole boys' back division! All of them were bigger, all of
them were stronger, and two of them at least were faster than me, and I'd
beaten the lot of them!

I also knew that I'd broken David's spirit because there were no more words of
encouragement from him to his team! I must say I felt a twinge of contempt for
him, for letting himself be dominated so easily by a girl. Miss was right
about this, I guess. She said that the boys had very fragile egos, and once we
made them doubt their superiority they'd quickly fall apart. They just did not
know how to cope with being beaten physically by girls!

She also said that it would be natural for us to feel sorry for them, but that
we had to squash those feelings and go for complete domination. Once we had
achieved that, then we could be as magnanimous in victory as we chose!

Joanne smacked over the conversion. The whistle went for half time. Us girls
were jubilant. We didn't want to stop. We strolled about, heads up, thrusting
out our breasts, flaunting our sexuality, while the boys sat on the grass
looking totally demoralised.

Mr. Dickson was yelling at them. Telling them what a crowd of wimps they were.
Exhorting them to get stuck into us, rough us up, use their strength, telling
them they were pathetic to be losing to a bunch of girls!

We smiled. We could see from their body language that there was no way they
were going to do anything. The boys were down. Now we were going to finish
them off!

Miss didn't even bother to come over to give us a pep talk. All she did was
give us a 'thumbs up' signal from the touchline. That's all we needed!'

To be continued......