Chapter 1

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’s little cafe. I had to take this 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 phone, my iPod, 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.

I wasn’t taking much, as I had rented out my house and most of my belongings were in storage.

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 Fifteen. By the age of sixteen, I was being watched by two or three scouts from professional clubs.

I was making the sports pages of the local papers, and the school’s coaches told me I was a natural.

For those of you who don’t know, rugby sides are made up of fifteen players, eight forwards and seven backs. The forwards are typically the larger, stronger players, and the backs are usually the smaller, faster individuals. They are often called piano shifters and piano players.

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. There was always lots of good, healthy food in our house.

I was now sixteen, six feet 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 that they all came to talk to me after the game, and our coach told me 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. There is not a lot of money in rugby, but the other perks had me pondering which team to go with.

I signed my professional papers for a well-known team in the Midlands and went to play for their academy. It was a significant 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, 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 than at my local club or at school, 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 because the food was free, and it meant we didn’t 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 a lot of food left over.

In my first year in the academy, we were unbeaten in the league and the cup. There were two or three lads who had first team written all over them.

I was soon promoted from the academy to the second team, which was great as my wages increased and I got to train with the first-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.

All the second-team lads had one aim: to earn a call-up to the first team. We trained hard and we played harder. Always trying to impress the coaches.

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, took some good lines out balls, I even managed to steal a line out from the opposition, and I was lucky enough to score a try late on in the game.

It was a pure fluke; I took a lineout 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 put him in the second team to run out following an injury, and he was most unhappy that I had hit him hard and low, tackling 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 in a good shift. I had been happy with my performance, especially as the big boss was watching.

We shook hands with the opposition and the referee before going 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 that 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. All I had to do was play my own game and make the most of the chance.

“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, and nodded my agreement at the same time.

“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. He was as happy for me as I was.

The next day, I arrived at the training ground at nine o’clock and 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 hired a couple of individuals to review videos and determine the best-attacking lines, defensive patterns, and other key aspects. 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 that 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 changed and headed down to the training pitch, where we 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 didn’t feel 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 team-related tasks as well as fitness activities on our own.

We all ate in the dining room before heading home, the rest of the team in their sponsored Range Rovers, four-by-fours, and sports cars, and I got on the bus.

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