As they hobbled, limped and staggered through the doors of favoured watering hole stop off, the Fox and Hounds at Christmas Common, there was an audible hush as the bloodied, battered but unbowed bothers in arms entered the bar. The locals gaped in horror, jumped from their seats and made way at the bar for this Addams Family lookalike ensemble to take their rightful place. Surely this wasn’t the same group who had entertained them over the years with their full Christmas carol and festive singalong medleys, what had happened to these handsome gallant warriors and legendary bon viveurs?

But it was at this very moment that the essence of the indefatigable Oxen spirit and esprit de corps shone through. To be sat among your cherished teammates after such an afternoon, to witness Stainton trying not to laugh to save his ribs, to see the Undertaker still in full kit, caked in blood, as saw bones Kidner’s bruised black eye became ever larger regaling their stories of the afternoon and previous escapades was a true privilege. That’s what makes these afternoons so special and to know that those with their continued lament of ‘why at your age do you do it?’ will never know this feeling of what the true Oxen comradeship means.

The day kicked off with a sense of foreboding as our traditionally hardest fixture was to played at half term on a spring like afternoon with a whole team of withdrawals. GC Warner was having none of it and his Churchilian call to arms commenced with the spine tingling “Boys, we all know we’re about to get a good shoeing but let’s try to keep the score down as much as possible…”

Connor McCleod was bringing a more cerebral and tactical nuance to his pre match analysis and in anticipation of his rematch with The Kurgan running at him from inside centre he has alighted on the cunning ruse of bringing the wingers in to defend the 10 channel. McCleod had reasoned this could give him the ultimate prize of being the only one. Great in theory but shot down in practice when The Kurgan was actually not playing his usual 12 but on the wing and had scored a hat trick in the first 10 minutes before we realised that maybe we were defending too narrowly. That was a feature of the first half as Mcleod’s hanging restarts attracted our forwards like bees to a honeypot and 2 quick passes from the opposition had bypassed the entire pack. There was talk that maybe they were so transfixed with this honeypot that they had mistaken it for the slightly more infamous venue of the same name a few miles up river, one thing is for sure is that would have been a far more pleasant if expensive afternoon had they done so.

Things went from bad to worse when centre pairing Harding and Wright had a rather unseemly, high paced coming together which left Harding clutching his head and Wright in vain attempting to staunch the gushing rivers of blood cascading from his face. Many thanks to the very hard working opposing physio who left the pitch resembling an extra from the Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Heated discussions ensued on the side of the pitch from instant medical experts who believed they had in depth knowledge of every A&E hospital within a 50 mile radius and were insisting that they knew best and Wright was far better off in Reading or Oxford. Happily common sense prevailed from El Presidente and Wright was taken quickly to the new injury clinic in Henley where he received quick and superb treatment. This made Wright’s afternoon as it meant he returned to the clubhouse in time for a few beers and take his rightful place on the trip home and an excuse to be late for his wife’s birthday celebrations - surely this one act should bestow on him player of the year if not honorary life membership.

Just as we thought things could get no worse ever present Peter Pan figure Bill Deeley went down with a nasty looking knee injury, The sparse bench warmers were in no great rush to come onto the pitch and were seen beseeching Deeley to play on and that it was a just mere bang and surely he would be able to run it off.

The second half carried on in a similar vein as a completely new front row was needed as Giles, Mike and Bobby all left the field to various injuries as did Gordo, many thanks again to the physio and to Will Cullen who volunteered quickly as ambulance driver putting paid to his plans of an enjoyable afternoon. These injuries were in no way attributable to the opposition who continued to play excellent rugby in the right spirit merely a show of the total commitment the boys were showing. Bobby Harris had made continuous interceptions, running yardage and the tackling from everyone was on the whole good. Will Cleare put one huge hit on his opposite which stopped the guy is his tracks millimetres from the line, Stainton never backed down from numerous 3 on 1s and his attacking from deep was akin to the charge of the light brigade in its futile gallantry.

Heads never went down and the spirit was rewarded with a 10 minute spell of pressure which culminated in a good try from Turnbull, turning and twisting over from close range after excellent work from Baby Buckland. It was great to see Ben making his debut, he was 25 years younger than the next youngest player and 40 years younger than our oldest. He played superbly well, never stopped tackling, running and clearing out and was a great addition to the Buckland Chinnor dynasty. Hopefully this chastening experience has not put him off and we look forward to witnessing his progress for Chinnor over the coming years.

In the end however there’s no real defence to a very good team with inexhaustible replacements 10- 15 years younger per man playing really well. The Oxen have been on the right side of many heavy wins over the last few years and it was agreed that you can’t really complain when the boot is on the other foot, and thank heavens we had a very soft pitch.