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1997, meanwhile, will always remind me of my first away game in the World League, Dave Barr and Spence Fischer, and two last-gasp victories in Germany. Oh, and the Spice Girls ...
For those who feel nauseous at the mere mention of the fiesty five, may I just say that herein lies a lesson, one which you may do well to listen to. If that still doesn't stop you reaching for the sick bag with one hand while pushing your mouse around with the other, let me put it in concise and understandable terms. You may find something amusing, but there comes a point when it becomes far from funny.
This is never more evident than when it is announced on stage in front of ten thousand people, yourself (a tone-deaf, talentless student layabout) included, that you will be singing live on that self-same stage in seven days time. Except perhaps when you hear the same announcement on drivetime radio the following afternoon.
It all started off so innocently. In ten spare minutes I found one otherwise unremarkable March evening, I decided to follow up a fleeting glimpse of inspiration which had visited my mind a few days prior. Ten minutes was all it took to do the damage, to write some Claymore-minded words to that most classic of pop tunes, ahem ... Wannabe.
Being a caring, sharing kind of guy, I mailed the words off to Doug. It was one of those decisive moments. If he didn't find them amusing, I knew I had probably flipped. If he did, well ... either I was onto something, or he was as mad as me. Maybe he was just being polite, but he said he liked them and I've been unsure of who is mad and who isn't ever since. That should probably have been the end of it. As it turned out, it was only the beginning.
Like most of the assorted gubbins which flows from my fingers onto the keyboard, the words soon found their way onto Blunt Views. If you read the pre-season and early season letters pages, you can see that we did receive some "encouragement" from various readers, among them one Bob "Elway" Strachan.
The first home game of the season, versus Barcelona, followed soon after. Not only was the result a continuation of our dreadful against the Dragons, I was stunned to see Bob and Doug having a conversation backstage with Forth FM jock Scott Wilson, the outcome of which was that I was supposed to get up and sing on stage the week after. As you might imagine, even at that early stage my afternoon was on a downward spiral. We could probably have won fifty-nil and I wouldn't have left Murrayfield smiling. I was staring disaster straight in the face, with it grimacing back at me.
I was worried for a good old while that week, I'm not afraid to admit. It was a set of circumstances which even brought smirks from my usually supportive parents any time the offending song was on the radio or television. For a while it looked like a fait accompli, but I managed to get off with it. Bob was the only one among us brave enough to go up and do it, and he did it very well. He got the applause, which he rightly deserved. Doug and myself got off with a slagging from Scott Wilson. I must admit, I do have a giggle from time to time about it when I hear Wannabe, but for a short while in April it was anything but a laughing matter.
There was actually then talk of pressing a CD of the song, Scott even offered to set us up with a recording studio to sing it in, but in the end it didn't come to anything. And, with that, the world of music lovers heaved a collective sigh or relief ...
That's just about the end of this particular cautionary tale. All that remains is to tie up the one somewhat large remaining loose end. If you've managed to read this far, I would hope you are at least beginning to wonder what the words of this song were. Far be it from me to keep you in suspenders any longer.
[Sample of Jim Criner saying "How 'Bout Them Claymores!"] Yo ... Tell me what you want, what you really really want No, tell me what you want, what you really really want I wanna run, I wanna catch, I wanna kick, I wanna pass I really really wanna kick the Monarchs up the arse! If you wanna touchdown, you'd better catch my pass If you wanna cover me, then you'd better be fast Get hit by a safety, you had better not cry Get your linemen blocking and you'll be just fine I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want No, tell me what you want, what you really really want I wanna run, I wanna catch, I wanna pass, I wanna kick I really really wanna make the Admirals sink! If you wanna be a Claymore you gotta have a good offense If you drop the ball too often you'll end up on the bench If you wanna be a linebacker you have got to hit If you wanna win the World Bowl then that's the way it is So what d'you think about now, when they kick down the field? Think you can handle that punt, got nerves of steel? So did Mario Bailey when he gave it a try Coghill knocks the ball loose then watch Markus fly! I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want No, tell me what you want, what you really really want I wanna run, I wanna catch, I wanna pass, I wanna score I really really really wanna be a Claymore! If you wanna be a Claymore you gotta have a good offense If you drop the ball too often you'll end up on the bench If you wanna take a time-out, make a sign like this If you wanna win the World Bowl then that's the way it is
Not that that's the only silly thing the BV team were involved in during the 1997 Claymores season. Through bizarre and contrived circumstances, I found myself playing on a team of journos in the MediaBowl, prior to the Monarchs game. Doug was on the supporters team which provided the opponents that day. Obviously my weight, power and pure aggression meant I was a natural to play on the line, my main tactic being to try to squeeze through wafer-thin gaps between my somewhat larger opponents. I came out of that game with arms which felt like they were made of stone, and have since stunned the gridiron community into unbounded apathy by announcing my retirement.
But don't you think for a second that the stupidity will stop when the calendar flips over to 1998. Oh no indeed missus, last year was just the beginning. Blunt Views, as you can see, has already been revamped for next year, ready to receive all the nonsense we can heap upon it. We're also planning to go onto paper at least once during the 1998 season.
Let me warn you now ... new songs are already in the pipeline.