Chapter 1 - My Life in Rugby

I got on the train and picked a seat by the window. I had brought some ham and cheese sandwiches and a large cup of coffee at the station. I had to take the train up to Glasgow, where I would stop overnight and then take the first train up into the highlands the next morning. The school had said they would be going to send a car to the train station to collect me. I only had my Kindle and an overnight bag with me; the rest of the gear was being sent up north by courier and hopefully would be there before I arrived.

The journey up north was a long one and it gave me time to reflect on my life. I had started to play rugby at the age of eleven, it was a late age to start but it seems I had a natural ability. I played at centre for a couple of years but as I got taller and bigger, I swapped positions to play at flanker, from the age of 14 I was captain of the school’s 1st XV. By the age of sixteen, I was being watched by two or three scouts from professional clubs.

For those of you that don’t know, rugby sides are made up of fifteen players, Eight forwards and seven backs. The forwards are normally the big strong guys and the backs are the thin, speedy lads.

I loved the game; I loved the rough and tumble. The camaraderie and the team ethos. I worked hard and trained hard to make myself a better player. In the summer I played cricket to keep up my fitness and did lots of long-distance runs to build up my stamina. I also used a local gym every morning.

My mom fed me well and kept me away from junk food and fizzy drinks.

I was now Sixteen, six foot six inches tall and well-built. The gym work and good diet had all paid off. I played in a schoolboy cup final and was watched by talent scouts from three local pro clubs. In that game, I scored twice and made a few good tackles, the scouts were so impressed they all came to talk to me after the game and I was told by our coach that he was sure I would be made an offer by at least one of them.

I was approached by all three clubs and it took me and my folks some time to work out which was the best deal for me.

I signed my professional papers for a well-known team in the midlands and went to play for their academy. It was a major lifestyle change for me, I was soon living in a shared house, eating at the club, and mingling with the club’s stars, many of them seasoned internationals.

Unlike football, the top stars are rarely prima donnas, the first team lads would always send over a jug of beer when the academy lads were in the bar, and there were always bits of new kit given away when their sponsors sent them goodie bags.

We were given clothes to wear, and food to eat and had mentors to guide us through our time at the club, there was no club car yet, but I was still new to the game and new to the club.

The training was more intense, and I revelled in it, we played games on a Sunday, had Monday and Tuesday off, and then trained for the rest of the week. We always ate at the club’s training ground as the food was free and meant we did not have to cook. They had professional chefs and nutritionists there to make sure we had good quality food. There was always plenty of chicken, pasta, and salad to be had and most of us youngsters took doggy bags away with us after meals. The staff did not mind as there was always loads of food left over.

I was soon elevated from the academy to the second team, that was great as my wages went up and I got to train with the 1st team squad once a week. Training with them was great, they were all at the top of their game and many were happy to advise us younger lads.

I will always remember my call-up to the first team, we had three injuries and some international call-ups and the week before a cup game the first team coach came to watch me play a second team game on a Monday night. It was a great game, I tackled my heart out, made a few good runs and was lucky enough to score a try late on in the game.

It was a pure fluke; I took a line-out ball in their half. Passed it down to the scrumhalf, and he passed the ball out to one of the centres. It went from the inside centre to the outside centre, then back to the inside centre.

The inside centre cut inside, and I had started my wrap-around run from the back of the line out. I took the ball on the move and the defence opened in front of me. There was clear turf for twenty feet in front of me and the defence only got to me as I hit the white line, try scored and five points in the bag and all in front of the head coach. I was just in the right place at the right time.

Later in the game, I tackled their left-hand winger and bundled him into touch just a few feet from the try line. The winger was a first-team player, but the opposition had in the second team for run out following an injury and he was most unhappy that I had hit him hard and low and tackled him off the pitch. There was a bit of pushing and shoving but nothing I could not handle.

When the whistle went for the end of the game, we were winners, 31-14, and I felt I had put a good shift in. I had been happy with my performance especially as the big boss was watching.

We shook hands with the opposition and the referee before we all went into the changing rooms to shower, after that we all went to the dining room and ate. I ended up eating with a guy from the opposition team, that is what rugby is like. We beat the crap out of each other on the pitch but are best mates off it.

As we ate our post-match meal of chicken pasta and salad, the club allowed us a couple of free beers after the game as well.

It was just after the meal the second-team coach, Larry, called me over and I sat with him and Mitch the first-team coach, Mitch was a Kiwi, an ex-all-black player with thirty-odd caps to his name. He was blunt and straight-talking, which I liked in a coach.

“So, Zak, you had a great game today son,” he said and shook my hand.

“Thanks, boss” I replied and tried not to blush.

“So, we have a cup game on Saturday and are short of flankers, we need you on the bench,” he said and looked at Larry. Larry nodded his approval and looked at me and as he told me later my Cheshire cat smile gave away my thoughts.

Okay so I was being picked as a first team substitute my heart was racing, okay a start would have been better but in most rugby games, all of the substitutes get to play, and it would put me in the spotlight.

“So, tell me then lad, are you up for it?” he asked, what a stupid question I thought. It was what I had been working towards for years.

“Of course, I am boss,” I said,

“Good lad!” he said and we shook hands again.

“Right, we need to start training tomorrow so please be there at ten o’clock,” he said before he stood up and left the room.

“Right Zak, let me give you some advice,” said Larry, “just listen to Mitch and the other coaches, don’t piss off any of the first team players and don’t sit at the back of the bus!”

“Cheers Larry,” I said with a grin, “I won’t let you down, mate.”

“I know you won’t son you’re going to do well, trust me I know, I can feel it in my bones.” He said and shook my hand.

So, the next day I got to the training ground at nine o’clock and I met the first team manager and the kit man, they took my sizes to get my kit sorted and then they took me for breakfast.

During breakfast, many of the first team players came over and wished me good luck. After eating we had a morning video analysis session. The club paid a couple of guys to watch videos and work out the best-attacking lines, defensive patterns etc. They made it easy for the coaches to find an opposition team’s weak point.

The analysts and the attack and defence coaches then talked us through the stuff we needed to know before we stopped for lunch. It was intense and there was a lot to take in, but I was like a sponge. I noticed that the first team lads made loads of notes. I made sure from then on, I took a pen and paper to every meeting.

After lunch, I was given my first team kit bag, full of training gear. Plus, a stack of leisurewear and stuff. I was like a kid at Christmas.

Then we got changed and headed down to the training pitch and worked on our defence. It was great working with the first-team lads. The second-team players and coaches were great, but this was a step above. The pace was a few levels up as was the intensity. I soon got into the rhythm and did not feel that far off the pace. Saying that I knew I would have to work hard to stay in the mix.

At the end of the session, I felt battered and bruised but I had learnt so much. After showering we were taken back in for more video analysis, and we were given our training plan for the rest of the week. We had to do stuff with the team as well as fitness stuff on our own.

We all ate in the dining room before heading home, the rest of the team in their sponsored range rover four by fours and sports cars, and me on the bus.

I got home and hung up all my gear, the other lads in the house we both happy for me and jealous of me. There was plenty of piss-taking going on.

I slept well that night ... The next day I got to the clubhouse early and after we had all breakfasted together it was into training, for me and the rest of the forwards it was a full day of lineouts and scrummaging, which ended with a couple of hours of full-contact work, tackling, rucking, and mauling.

I remember sleeping well that again night, they trained longer and harder than the second-string players. Thursday was half a day on defence and half a day on attacking skills. I felt like I was keeping pace with the guys and doing well.

The coaches all seemed happy with my work rate and my fitness. I still had lots to learn but I knew if I took my chances, I could make a go of things in the first team.

Friday was a morning of weights and conditioning, then in the afternoon was the captain’s run, a light training session run by the senior players rather than the coach.

We were sent home and told to meet at the ground at eight the next morning. I slept well; I thought the nerves would be jangling but it was okay. We all met and there was a bit of banter and a lot of piss-taking over breakfast. Then we took jumped on a coach for the two-hour trip to the opposition’s ground.

Some of the guys slept, some of the guys read, and some guys like me slapped on the earphones and listened to music. One of the senior lads sat beside me for the last half an hour and told me to just go out and enjoy the game. He told me to take every chance to go forward and to hit every ruck and maul as hard as I could.

We got to the ground and ate a light lunch, then we went for a walk around the ground, it was a three o’clock kick-off so there was no rush. Two hours before kick-off we started our warmups, it was good to be involved but I was still worried I might not get off the bench.

The ground soon started to fill up and the team was split, the starting XV warmed up and the bench and the substitutes went to another part of the pitch and did our warmups. I was the only guy that had not played first-team rugby before and the rest of the lads were great, encouraging me, giving me pats on the back and stuff like that.

It was funny to see the television cameras around the ground and the pundits on the pitch. The pundits were two ex-England international players, and I remembered watching them on Television playing in six nations games.

Then with twenty minutes to go, we left the pitch, as we did so the grounds announcer was calling out the team’s names and it was a real thrill to hear my name being called out over the Tanoy system.

We went into the dressing room and swapped our warm-up shirts for the playing shirts, took on water and ate bananas. Some guys went to the toilets, others got strapping replaced. The substitutes all got dressed in our team tracksuits. The referee came in and told us how he wanted the game played and checked our studs.

Then Mitch did a speech before he and the other coaches left the room.

The captain called us in and gave us a rousing speech, I had done a fair few in my time and it was nothing new to me.

Then he led us out, the starters went on the pitch and the substitutes went to the bench. The referee blew his whistle and the lads got to work. Most substitutes did not get on until the last twenty minutes unless there was an injury, so I was prepared for a long wait.

We started well, our playmakers moved the ball around and kicked well and with ten minutes on the clock we were three points up, then a loose pass led to a breakaway try from the opposition winger that was converted so we were 7-3 down.

Then they kicked a penalty, and we were 10- 3 down Then we went 10-6 following a high tackle from their full-back. Then on the half an hour mark, the ball went out of play and we got the line out. The hooker threw long, and the Number seven, Big Dave Harris, took the ball over his head but before he got back to the ground he was hit hard and high. The referee blew the whistle and as the medics ran on a melee broke out, nothing serious just lots of pushing and shoving.

The referee soon put a stop to it and sent the teams back under their own posts as the medics worked on Big Dave Harris, our now broken number seven.

The assistant coach was in front of me, he looked up at the coach’s box and then said something into his microphone. Then he shouted over to me.

“Zak get stripped off and get warmed up son.”

My head shook and I just nodded like an idiot, my tracksuit was off in seconds, and I was doing stretches and sit-ups. The assistant coach sprayed dry spray on my hands to make ball handling easier and told me to put my gum shield in. It was something that I should have done automatically but nerves were kicking in, I think.

The referee gave us a free kick which Andy our fly-half kicked to touch well in the opposition’s half. At the same time, the fourth official sent me onto the pitch for my first professional rugby match and Big Dave was carried off on a stretcher. I shook his hand as he passed me, as is the tradition in rugby.

To be fair I do not remember much about the rest of the game, I made a few tackles, won two-line outs, and made three decent runs. I know that because I watched the game on TV the next day. We won the game by 14 points and after eating a meal and having a beer with the opposition we got back on the couch and headed home, stopping for a few beers along the way.

One of the rights of passage for all new players was that you had to sing a song on the bus, and I decided to sing an old Tom Jones tune, I got to the first verse before the lads ripped the piss out of me, as is the tradition in rugby clubs all over the world.

I woke on Sunday morning with a hangover. I read the online reviews of the game and I got a mention for my work ethic. Then I visited the club’s online forum and again I had some good feedback. That was all well and good, but I was still not sure if I was back in the second team or training with the first team during the next week.

Me and the lads I house shared with watched the game and there was plenty of piss taking but at the end of the game, I got handshakes from them all.

A text from Mitch later that evening confirmed my status as a first teamer for another week. He told me to take Monday off unless I needed to see the medics but to report for first-team training on Tuesday. That was followed by a text from one of the older lads at the club asking if I needed a lift to the training ground. I thought it was nice of him and it made me feel more like one of the boys.

I checked the fixture list to see whom we were playing, the game was against the league leaders, and they had not been beaten in eight games so it would be a tough one.

I spent the next day walking around on a cloud. I knew that another game might lead to another and another. So, at training, I worked my nuts off and tried to soak up as much knowledge as I could. Friday came around all too quickly and I was totally shocked when after the captain’s run when we all went to eat, I was told I would be starting this week.

It was a home game and a three o’clock kick-off, so we all meet at eleven, had brunch then watched some videos of the opposition’s games before we started to warm up.

As we walked off into the changing with twenty minutes to go many of the home fans were calling out to me, wishing me good luck, and trying to shake hands. The was always a crowd at the second team games but it never topped two hundred, now I had fifteen thousand people watching me...

I re-strapped my wrists and drank water as I waited for kick-off, the referee came in and had his chat and then the captain did his bit but it was all a blur, to be honest. Then there was a lot of hugging and back-slapping Then we were on the pitch and the referee’s whistle blew to start the game.

In the first five minutes, I made two big tackles and stripped the ball off one of their centres. The ball was sent out to the winger, and he made good ground. The lads formed a ruck over him, and the ball came out into the centres, I wrapped around and found myself running outside Miles, who was our number thirteen. He passed me the ball as one of their centres tackled him. I dummied a pass, and the other opposition centre ran past me, leaving me with clear turf. I put the ball under my arm and ran for all I was worth. I could hear the sound of the chasers behind me.

My breath was knocked out of me as one of their second rows hit me hard, but I did manage to pop the ball up to one of our wingers who galloped the last five yards and flopped over the try line. The crowd went wild. The conversion was kicked as my mates slapped me on the back and I took on water.

For the rest of the half, we kicked our penalties and made our tackles, I put myself about and made some good tackles. I also took two line out of balls nice and cleanly. We went into the changing rooms at halftime with a spring in our steps and a 13-to-nil lead.

The winger that had scored our try, a Welsh lad called Gethin Jones, thanked me and promised to buy me a beer after the game. We sat down and rehydrated as the coaches gave us orders for the second half.

Mitch told us to look for space and to keep the ball in play.

The second half started with them throwing everything that had at us, and we had to make tackle after tackle to keep them out. For ten minutes they gave us all they had and only scored when the referee gave them a penalty when one of our props did not roll away from a breakdown fast enough for his liking. So were 13-3. Our fly-half kicked the ball high to restart the game and we charged after it. One of their second rows collected it and ran down my channel. I hit him hard and drove him back a few feet, he hit the ground and our lads piled over him, the ball came our way.