Joining Club Rugby / The Education of SeanWF - Part 5
The referee raises his arm and blows his whistle, and you seanFW, are about to take part in your very first Rugby Match, albeit from your less than glorious status of Senior Water Boy.
Everything will be a wonder to you. From the kick off by your team you will observe the two jolly fat men charge as one, joined at the hip, towards where the ball is about to land. You will see their two jolly fat opposition brothers camped under the descending projectile, arms extended in joyous anticipation of receiving the beloved oval balloon.
From your observations just moments before of the conviviality shared between the fraternity of the corpulent, you expect a respectful encounter,
a ballet a quatre, as it were, when they meet.
Not so. Jolly fat man one raises his forearm and lands a crushing jolt in the area of the nose of his worthy opponent, several seconds before the ball is anywhere near, felling him.
Jolly fat man two steps on his fallen adversary's face, at the same time effecting a most elegant pirouette.
The jolly fat man still standing from the opposition appears, most unreasonably, to take umbrage at this, and promptly boxes the ears of your jolly fat man nearest to him.
While this is going on,the ball bounces unloved and unattended on the ground, where it is espied by Stretch, who picks it up and casually strolls towards the try line, unobserved by everyone but the referee. All the other players on both sides are by this time keenly engaged in observing the melange of jolly fat men, at each other hammer and tongs.
The referee, who is also a novice, refereeing his first scratch match, pays no attention to the gargantuan battle unfolding near him but sees Stretch casually lay the ball down on the correct side of the try line and awards a try.
This sets the standard for the remainder of the first half of the game. No quarter asked or given by either team, and you begin to appreciate the kindness extended you by your coach in sparing you from direct involvement in this bloodbath.
However, the ferocity of the game takes its toll, and you and the weakling are kept extaordinarily busy attending and administering to the endless flow of Junior AllBlacks retiring hurt from the field of play, mostly from injuries from which they miraculously recover once replaced.
At last the referee blows his whistle for half time.
The score is 5 nil in favour of your team but the coach is troubled.
He approaches you and informs you he has run out of all but 7 Junior AllBlacks, the 5 Currie Cup Trialists have simultaneously pulled calf muscles, and two of the State Under19's representatives have been ordered off the field by their wives.You may have to run on about 25 minutes into the second half if there are any more injuries.
Quivering with fear and anticipation, you hand your arsenal of water bottles and your wet sponge to one of the legion of vanquished Junior AllBlacks and put on his playing jersey, which, remarkably, is still clean and fresh smelling, considering the terrible pounding it was alleged to have been subjected to.
The big moment arrives and you are told by the coach to run on in place of the openside breakaway who has come off the field sporting a bloody nose and calling for his mother, having given away a penalty.
Not knowing what a breakaway does, let alone one who rejoices in being open on one side,you wander over towards Stretch, hoping that he might give you a few pointers on field so as to avoid making a right pillock of yourself.
This turns out to be a wise decision for Stretch's gruff advice to you is "stay up my arse kid" and you are smart enough to realise he wants you to follow him closely, that there are no homosexual connotations involved.
Within moments the opposition takes full advantage of the penalty. The kicker touches the ball to his boot and throws it to one of his jolly fat men, who embraces his obese conjoined twin, and ball between them, they waltz circularly over the try line to score untouched in the corner.
Like the try previously scored by Stretch, it is unconverted, and the score becomes 5 all.
From the ensuing kick off the ball is fumbled by the opposition, your team wins the scrum, the ball is passed to a terrified centre by the scrum half, and the centre in turn passes the ball back into the disengaging scrum.Stretch uses his bulk to retrieve it, bursts forward for several metres with you following "up his arse", turns, and thrusts the ball into your gut.
At this point you try to continue moving forward, and you succeed, suprisingly, for several more metres , until you are brought to ground by a punishing front on tackle by the opposition fullback.
Whilst on the ground you look up just in time to avoid an otherwise well aimed boot to the head from a late arriving opposition centre. The cowardly villain takes aim for another attempt when you are rewarded for all those evenings of driving Stretch home by observing Stretch's mighty right fist landing with a sickening thud on the centre's jaw, laying him out cold.
You immediately pop up the ball in the direction of your team mates to see it land in the arms of the 30 kilo weakling , now also on the field, who, with legs driven by the wind of abject terror, streaks away from anybody and everybody, fortunately in the right direction and collapses exhausted underneath the posts. Try.
Moments later the final whisle blows.
As you walk off the field you are rewarded by the amazing sight of the four jolly fat men, embracing, slapping each other on the back, laughing and sharing cigarettes and jokes.
The weakling is being carried off the field shoulder high by six deliriously excited committeemen and the first grade coach is inviting you to stand by for his game.Stretch has made his way to the team carton and is already through his third beer.
And now SeanWF, you are one of us.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
