Well it’s a bloody good job that this year’s tournament didn’t go down to the wire, because nobody left Central Hall with any semblance of what had gone on for the past hour, let alone the preceding three days. With the final lines of Jerusalem ringing out with all the confidence that only comes from Carling and Strongbow, the majority who braved the 80-odd trophies to see Lacy pour the majority of his trophy pint down his shirt emerged from the closing ceremony of
Roses 2009 wondering just what linked medieval re-enactment society with air cannons and streamers.
The whole thing was a tad surreal. From the cross-dressing nun who was waved away with contempt by Brian Cantor to the airlifted trophy that looked like something out of Fear Factor, it was as ridiculously brilliant as the manner in which York sent Lancaster back across the Pennines with overwhelming ease.
Even Cantor, typically a man of poise, reportedly turned to YorkSport nutcase Alex Lacy during one of the more confusing segments to plead: “What’s going on, what’s going on?” Lacy, for the record, set him at ease with a hearty laugh.
Greg Dyke, God love him, tried his best to bring some kind of order to the proceedings, but even his attempts to work the crowd with his geezer-like charm were lost amongst the rapidly-descending atmosphere and chants of ‘ITV, ITV’.
Surely Mr. Ernst & Young, with a tougher job than Lancaster’s lacrosse goalkeeper would explain the extravagazna? A pro at handling such a non-plussed audience, he had a stab at being hip and trendy but it wasn’t to be. A few shouts of “Can I have a job?” later, and he was back in corporate “winning is great for learning” mode. Still, we’ ll have your dosh for next year, thank you very much.
Lacy, who Dyke described as “awful… as awful as Jo Carter” at Croquet, had a mare trying to detatch the trophy from it’s harness, while throughout Tom
Scott’s ‘Are you ready to rumble?’ voice boomed out with faux-significance.
Still, it was certainly more exciting than the droll, repetitive affair of graduation, though one hopes that more people arrive on stage to collect their winnings in July.
Though perhaps graduation could learn something from this impressive though altogether bizarre closing ceremony. Not winched-in degrees or air cannons for every student, but the spectacle that everyone braved 30 minutes queuing in the rain to see: Cheerleaders.
Did we care about the history bollocks? Did we really find the rugby banter funny? No. But get these black and gold Energizer bunnies out everywhere. Did you see the jealousy oozing from DanceSoc’s faces?