Battersea Ironsides 3's 12 - 17 LCRFC Dukes

I don't have a problem with the Irons per se. They are that rare thing in central London rugby – a proper community club, with an earthy playing base and solid youth and minis set up. A far cry from the usual public school spin passy old boys' teams, City professionals all and not a prop between them. Not at all like us. The Irons also play honest, hard rugby and, furthermore, their 3s should be applauded for sticking out a difficult season last year - although they may have lost most of their games they still fulfilled all their fixtures (I think).Yes, maybe the Irons have a few too many Saffas for my liking but hey – at least these are guys getting involved with the English game rather than forming an Afrikaans exiles team in west London.

It's not all patronising sweetness and light, however. As I put my spare boots down on the grass (a throwback to my days playing semi-professional rugby in Gibraltar) I realised that I had placed them in a meaty dog poo. As bent over to pick them up, I then realised I had put my steadying hand in another, slightly less meaty dog poo. Slightly traumatised, I wiped my hands on the damp grass and headed off for my solitary old man "I look forward to this more than the game" static stretch. Lunging forward to massage my quads, I rested my knee in the sodden turf. Spoiler alert: another meaty dog poo. "Dog Sh*t Park" resembled nothing less than the outskirts of Sarajevo, unexploded brown mines ready to catch the unsuspecting.

I somehow managed to steady myself and saw that we had a strong squad out for this must-win merit game (since when was 4th team rugby about must-win games?). The dog poos weren't the only meaty things on display, our "ers" front row of Clasper, Spindler and "Right to Roam" Fisher, ably packed up by "Sh*t Moaty" Dixon and "School Bully Eyes" Linard, pulverising the Irons pack in the first scrum, something that would continue for the whole game. The first quarter was all Cornish - "Junge" Rotherham conducting an experienced backline in which The Showpony shone, literally and metaphorically. The first try came around 15 minutes in, star signing Nick Lewis running back a wayward kick to put "returning hero" Rob Mazur in for a showboating dive. Cornish continued to apply the pressure and came close again - Huw Jones's burst deserving the five pointer, and Junge's dropping of the ball over the line earning him the pink vest.

As the half went on the performance came flabbier and flabbier. We'd forgotten what had got us the lead, and we fell of the breakdown and were lazier getting into position. The Irons started getting a foothold, aided by their pacey scrum half and their rotund club stalwart Woody at 10 - still a fine footballer. A spilt ball and slow reactions saw a try for the Irons. We fought back, Lewis scoring a fine try, but the Irons equalised. The second half continued on the same note - Cornish seemed to think it would all come easily, and while the performances at the break down and in the tackle were competent, a lack of control meant that the game degenerated into a scrap. An injury to Mark Stringer (surely, for you older folks, the heir to Jamie Banwell's "Destroyer" crown) meant that, for a brief moment, we had that most gorgeous of things - a Pony/Willoughby centre combination. It was as if all of the angels were smiling on Earlsfield.

A few more injuries saw several rejiggings, but to be honest it was a case of keeping the pressure on and waiting for the score. Mike Lunn had his best game since his lengthy lay off, showing power and an engine. Linard, Dixon and "Sh*t Tim Gibb" Acton hit their rucks and forced turnovers. Go Go Gadget Ged and Lewis threatened with ball in hand, and Fisher exercised his right to roam (discovering three separate and forgotten footpaths in the process). But cometh the hour, cometh the man, and the Showpony put in a shift that was more pit pony than glamourpuss, clearing up loose ball and putting both body and hair on the line until some (rather comedy) concussion forced him off. Eventually the pressure told, a sharp Mazur blind side break seeing Jimmy "Now better than James Baylis" Dale shimmy his way over for the winning try.

The full time whistle saw the Dukes victorious, with a decent win in the conditions over a spirited Irons. No doubt in my mind - we would have lost this game last year. The breakdown in no longer the Bermuda triangle that was for the Dukes last year and, with a little bit more control, we have the potential to play some decent rugby. The recovery from Dorkinggate gathers pace.

By L Clark

Team: Fisher, Spindler, Clasper, Linard, Dixon (Capt.), Lunn, Jones, Acton, Mazur, Rotherham, Ekhardt, Stringer, Lewis, Clark, Mc Hugh, Wyatt, Dale, Willoughby. Coach - M Bevan