Joining a club

[Happy]

Brilliant stuff Fulvio!!! keep it up!

[fulvio sammut]

The education of seanWF-the Wonder Days.

Having survived your introduction to fitness training, and having displayed the requisite propensity towards debauchery by entering the club bar after your first training run, you will be on your way towards taking the next major step forward in your rugby development.

This will not occur for several weeks however, during which time you will have developed a strong personal bond with Stretch, having taken him home after each training run at the request of the coach and the bar manager, who will assist you by pouring Stretch into your car for that purpose on a regular basis.

The weakling too, will become, if not your friend, at least someone whom you will greatly appreciate by his voluntarily assuming the lowest place in the club pecking order in lieu of your good self.

The two jolly fat men will however remain somewhat enigmatic. They will speak civilly enough to you, and will be able to converse easily on all manner of subjects, but you will sense a feeling of unease and discomfort in their presence, as if in some way they were members of a secret under-rugby Freemasonery, to which only jolly fat men with no necks can belong.

But I digress.

Untill now the entire fourth grade training squad will have consisted of five participants, including yourself, plus the coach.This is about to change. The coach will announce that at the next session the emphasis will be on ball skills.

At this session the number of players will magically double to eight or ten and you will have the pleasure of being introduced to not one, but three or four Junior AllBlacks.

These individuals are all NewZealanders, all work at the local meatworks , call each other Bro and have a secret system of introductory handshakes which they exchange with each other whenever they are apart for more than thirty minutes.

Contrary to what their appellation might conjure in your mind, these players, whilst having a modicum of knowledge of the rules of the game (and a few can even run and pass the ball, but never tackle) are not the same, and should never be mistaken for, your actual AllBlack. A Junior Allblack is, apparently, the name given by Maori tribal custom to the most useless rugby player associated with the tribe.

After two or three futher ball skill sessions the coach will announce that the first pre season game will take place on Saturday week, and by so announcing he will have ensured that the next training session will have thirty two participants, including another eight Junior AllBlacks, three under nineteen state representatives (although now in their dotage) and five Currie Cup trialists.

You and your squad will now be ready to take the next big leap forward in your quest for the Holy Rugby Grail.

And I will instruct you futher in that regard next time we meet.

You arrive for the first scratch match or "Trial game" on Saturday with a soul full of hope and great expectations of impressing your buddies with your newly honed skills.

Being Fourth grade you will of course be the first team to play.The entire squad will have assembled as well as an additional cohort of Junior AllBlacks and you will wait expectantly to fill one of the fifteen positions, any position, as long as you run on.

You will have been bouyed in that expectation by your coach's earnest assertions throughout the preseason that only those that train will be selected.

After an address of ten minutes, during which the coach will mostly limit himself to comparing the opposition to various parts of the female anatomy,casting aspertions on their legitimacy,and making curious, if inappropriate, comments about their sexual conduct, the coach will name the run on team.

You of course will not be included, but every Junior AllBlack who turns up on the day will.

Whilst still in a state of bewilderment you will be handed a tray of plastic bottles and a wet sponge and will be assigned the heavy responsibility of senior water boy.

Bemused and somewhat offended, you will observe the two jolly fat men make a beeline to two very similarly built individuals on the opposite team. They will shake hands heartily with their opposite number (but in the normal manner), slap each other on the back, share cigarettes and all the while be laughing and joking effusively together.

Stretch will, for the first time since you met him, have a look of grim determination on his face. The thirty kilo weakling will be filling the water bottles for you.

The referee will blow his whistle and the selected team will gather in a huddle,embacing each other like long lost brothers, let out a mighty roar which for all the world sounds like the death rattle of an expiring pachyderm, and run onto the field to assume their positions.

As despondent as you may feel at this point, do not succumb to ill founded dispair, for, as I will explain to you next time, you are still destined to enjoy your time in the sun.

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.

[Burgs]

Pure gold Fulv

[Darren]

what he said!

I have a title for you - "The Damnatoin of SeanWF"

[JediKnight]

Awesome reading....and every word of it true.

[Mr Hasbeen]

Gold!!!!!!!!!!

Bloody brilliant!!!!

Thanks for a great piece of literature.

[The Lone Hydrangea]

FS, great stuff indeed. Brillant!

[.X.]

Coach, Burgs, Sage, Gerry

Someone please cut and paste Fulvio's brilliant writing together and put it as a TWF Article. such brilliance deserves to be highlighted on its own merits.

Fulvio - you should send that to some Rugby Magazines - I am sure someone will offer you some money to publish it. just brilliant.

[fulvio sammut]

Thanks fellers.
I'm here for the enjoyment. Anyone who wants it can use it, gratis.
But when I'v got time later I might be tempted to continue sean's progress...
I've been around my club for 40 years now, and I'm sure what I've seen in that time is what we all come across!!

[Burgs]

Burgs patiently waits at the table for another bowl of his favourite serial...

[frontrow]

Frontrow is hungry for more as well, that is pure gold Fulvio, and as stated before, abso bloody lutely true...

[fulvio sammut]

Well, SeanWF, your education as a rugby player has been neglected of late by me, but I'm sure your coach has well spent the time to futher develop your not inconsiderable skills.

By now you will have been involved in several practice or trial matches, and with each such encounter your confidence, and the number and colours of your bruises, will have grown.

Next weekend heralds the start of the season proper with a home game, and you can hardly contain yourself with the excitement of the prospect.

But on Tuesday the coach is very serious, indeed, distracted, at the comencement of training. He calls your squad together and solemnly informs you all that there is a looming club crisis in which your help and that of your team mates is desperately required and vitally important.

It seems that the President's secretary's cousin has forgotten to arrange for the erection of the goal posts, that the line marking machine has only just been relocated and repaired after last season's incident with the Council lawn mower, that the groundsman has resigned from the club due to the Treasurer's serious objection to the groundsman's unwelcomed (by the Treasurer at least) familiarity with the Treasurer's wife, and in short, volunteers are needed to erect the posts, peg and mark the ground and dress the field prior to the game.

The Herculean task, normally carried out over several weekends including the Easter Break, has to be carried out on Saturday morning and completed before the start of the under 17's game at 11.30 am.

Greatly perturbed by this most unsatisfactory turn of events, occasioned of course entirely by circumstances beyond the ken and control of any club office bearer or member of the committee, you immediately unreservedly offer your services, followed with alacrity by the 30 kilo weakling.

Stretch asks if there will be a carton afterwards, and the two jolly props utter some unmentionable and quite shocking expletives centering on the sexual proclivities of the Treasurer's wife.

The contingent of Junior AllBlacks, while showing mild interest at the mention of the carton, meld into the background when it becomes apparent none will be available.

The five Currie Cup trialists, it seems, have pressing work commitments on Saturday morning , cash in hand to supplement their centrelink entitlements, and the three under 19s State representatives have baby sitting duties until the very moment the match commences.

Before long a plan of action is in place however. You and the Coach will peg the field and dig the post holes at 5.pm after work on Friday and the 30 kilo weakling, who's father serendipitously owns a crane hire company, will ask Pater to lend the club a crane and driver on Saturday morning, gratis. Stretch and the two now not so jolly fat men will be on hand to render assistance and carry out the line marking duties.

The weakling's father's munificence can, apparently, be secured as a result of Pater having been present to observe his progeny's try in the first trial game, which game had been played against the club to which his arch business rival belonged. Pater had exulted in the twin satisfactions of being able to lord it over his foe and to relive his past glories through his issue's solitary try.

Having resolved these otherwise insurmountable difficulties between yourselves, the President approaches, thanks you all for recognising your club and social obligations, explains how commitment and esprit de corps have blossomed under his stewardship and how he would not expect anything less, and regets that his and the committee's pre arranged golf morning precludes them all from being able to help.

And next time SeanWF, My Munchkin, I will unfold to you the progression of your very first involvement in a club working bee.

[shasta]

Thanks Fulvio. Extremely enjoyable. Next time one of my AFL obsessed workmates tells me for the umpteenth time thet he is "buggered if I can see what you lot see in that stupid K-cuffing game". I'll let them read this little gem

[jazza93]

great stuff fulvio!!!!!

how did it go seanwf did it all fall into place like FS said.

[pruc]

frank.... sounds alot lyk like pally with the goal posts and stuff. what you forgot to add was the first game wil be a 25-0 win and the ocach will be happy...'and he will be quoted as saying thats already 1/18th o fthe season gone and we are undefeated

all be it even though it was a forfiet

then the 6th grade coach will go around try and start a money collection for one of the juniors becuase he has horirble splelling skills on the local taems supporters website..