A Morning of Redness on the West:
Slaintes Declaw Cats
by Ryan Milbrath
The first game on Sunday always holds a combination of mystique and responsibility. Teams have to set the tone early for great matches, and I’ve always noticed players’ nerves are better at 3:00p.m. than earlier in the day. Even though the game started at 11:00a.m., I spotted many, especially those in the teenage and young-adult mindset, dabbing sleep out of their eyes. I walked the pitch, with a fresh coat of Deep-Woods Off burning my nostrils and caffeine pumping through my veins, expecting inspiration to strike at any moment. I put on strict game face, to mask a bias towards Slim’s, considering they were my former team and as sports journalist it’s always important to remain objective.
A breeze picked up just as players took the field, and while it kept away the mosquitoes it did little to keep my fellow correspondent, Tim Dombrowski, from offering his opinions on our matchup. With Slim’s solid defense, and County Clare’s relentless offensive, you really don’t need a weatherman to tell you which way the wind is blowing. The breeze, the stillness in the air, and the fiery clash of Slim’s Dan “Danny Mac” McAuliffe’s ash against Clare’s Caleb Hunnicutt’s in the opening square off, all seemed reminiscent of a shoot-out at the O.K. Corral. All I could do as a nervous passerby was watch the Wyatt Earps and Doc Hollidays have a high-noon contest of arms.
The first quarter came out like a slap in the face by one of Slim’s Captain Matt Ebert’s trademark one-handed stick passes. County Clare’ s relentless offensive pressure was equally matched by the stalwart resistance of Slim’s half-back and full back line. The pressure, at times, appeared overwhelming, indescribably favoring the commanding stature of Luke Papenfuss, Caleb’s speed, and Noah Leydel’s break-through-at-all-costs style. At one point, I thought I heard someone yell “Thundercats, Ho,” though it could have been my imagination. The Cats tried ted to point the sliotar through the uprights, but despite rallying around the cry, “Thundercats, Ho!” The hounds would not abide. Carl drew first blood with goal, and with another point by Ian, the Hounds lead the first quarter, and with Tom Hereley exuberantly channeling his inner Michael Jordan to make passes up-field to Danny Mac and Erin Clapper stopping everything within a ten-feet periphery, the Slaintes ended the first quarter 1-1 (4), to Cats 0-1 (1).