Chapter 24

The bus trip was good; there was a lot of banter and a good old-fashioned rugby singsong. Jo and I joined in as the lads sang Delilah, Flower of Scotland, and Sloop John B. Some rugby classics.

We got to the high school in Fort William nice and early, and their coach, Gary Hastings, met us as the coach pulled up in front of the school.

“I am Gary, it’s good to see you, mate,” he said with a smile and gave me an overly manly handshake. It was something rugby players got a lot of, guys trying to show how masculine they were. You get used to it, I guess. I had nothing to prove, so I did not go all macho on him.

“Hello. It is nice to finally meet you, Gary,” I said and looked around. It was a great place; the first team pitch had stands for spectators on both sides, but the ends were open. The pitch looked in good condition, with a nice level surface and a good covering of grass. The white lines had recently been painted, and the whole place looked very professional.

“This is Jo Page, my assistant coach and the team physio,” I said as Jo stepped off the bus.

“Hi Jo,” he said with a smile and an admiring glance. To be fair, she looked stunning that morning; it would be a shame to see her leave the school. She did a great job as a physio; she was also a great coach, and she was a great shag to boot. I would have loved to have one more session with her, but she had made it evident that that was off the table.

“Nice to meet you, Gary”, was her reply.

Once the Pleasantries were over, he led us to the changing rooms. They had a nice setup, and there were enough changing rooms for the first and second fifteens to change separately. There was a separate changing room for the referees as well as physio rooms with ice machines and massage beds.

It was obvious they were seriously into their rugby, and they had a reasonable budget.

Gary then showed me the training pitches, so that we had somewhere to warm up. Again, they looked in top-class condition and would put many pro clubs to shame. I had been lucky, the club I had played for had excellent facilities, but we had been to some real shit holes as well. There were one or two clubs we had played in the European Cup that had really poor pitches.

I showed the lads where to get changed and asked the second fifteen to be ready in half an hour. Jo took the first fifteen lads back to the coach to get our training gear, tackle bags, cones, shields, and the like.

We set up the training gear on the pitch, and I left Jo to do warm-ups while I had a chat with the first fifteen boys. I could see that nerves were starting to show; this would be the biggest game some of the lads had played, and for some of them, it would be the first competitive game.

They would have to do their warm-ups on their own as there was only a half an hour break before the end of the second team match and the start of the first team match, I told them what I expected of them and left them to it. as they had an hour or so to kill before they even had to change, they went off to the main school with Gary for a look around and to get some refreshments.

I went back to the second-team lads, Jo was getting them warmed up, and they all looked up for a good game. There seemed to be a real buzz going around, and the lads were giving it 110%. Even the non-playing squad members were giving it their all.

Once the warm-ups were done, I split the backs and forwards. Jo worked with the backs, and I took the forwards. I had a huddle with my team, and we discussed how we wanted to approach the game. The game plan was to play aggressively and with intensity.

Then we worked on scrums and lineouts for half an hour. After that, I got the backs and forwards together, and we did some practice runs. The aim was to stop half an hour before the game so that the players could take on fruit and water before another warm-up, and then it would be game time.

The time flew by, and it was soon time to get them into their match gear and have the last chat before the game started. Jo spent some time working with the lads, taping them up I helped as much as I could. There were always fingers to tape, and the second and back-rowers all had tape on their legs to help the lifters. It gave the lifter a better grip.

Once that was done, we encouraged the boys to take on water, while I, the second team captain for the day, a second-row forward called Marvin Johnstone, had a chat with the referee.

He was a proper ref that Gary knew from the local senior club, he told us what he expected from us and how he wanted the game played. Then he checked the studs that the lads were using before telling us we had fifteen minutes before kick-off.

Once the referee was happy, I sent the lads out to warm up on the match pitch.

He asked us to join him and the captain of Fort William in the corridor between the changing rooms. The two captains shook hands, and then the ref tossed a coin. We won the toss and decided to kick off.

I walked out of the changing rooms and had a look at the ground and the pitch. I noticed that the coaches with the ‘fans’ had turned up; it seemed that most of the school, including all of the teachers and admin staff, had turned up. I could see Marcia Armstrong sitting with the headmaster and Miss Green. It seemed that the whole of one of the stands was filled with our supporters.

Gary Hastings came over and wished us all the best. I had seen some of his second team warming up, and they looked like a capable bunch. There were some big units out there that was for sure.

We had a quick warm-up on the pitch before we headed back into the changing rooms, and then the lads pulled on the brand-new second-team shirts. They all looked as pleased as punch to have the new kit. There is something good about pulling on that shirt for the first time. The pride wells up inside, the back straightens, and the shoulders get broader.

I told them to go out and enjoy the game and not to worry about the result. I left them as the captain was about to give his team talk, and I didn’t want to be there for that. This was his time; he was the captain on the pitch and did not want to get under his feet.

I joined Jo on the sidelines; the subs soon came out, and the second fifteen trotted out onto the pitch. The Fort William high lads soon joined them; they all looked handy, but one guy stood out. He was a big lad and a winger. He looked Polynesian, and he was built like a brick shit house. He had some of the most enormous thighs I had ever seen on a schoolboy.

I called Johnstone to the touchline for a chat.

“Keep the ball away from that big bugger, or he will have a field day,” I said and slapped him on the shoulder.

The referee checked that both sides were ready to play, and then the whistle blew, and the game started. There was a loud roar from the stands as both sets of fans cheered on their teams.

One of the high school teachers came over with two takeaway coffees, one for me and one for Jo. We thanked her and she went off to watch the game. We turned to watch the game.

Our flyhalf kicked high and long, our boys chased the ball well...

Their fullback took the ball and passed it; seconds later, our big number eight, Dave Richards, clattered him to the floor. The ball was taken by a centre and passed onto their giant winger. He set off like a racehorse, smashing past three of our players and making great ground before one of our props took him out and he hit the floor, popping up the ball as he did so.

The fullback took the ball, and it was out across their backline, and they went over for a try. Five-nil down in the first thirty seconds, their kicker missed the kick.

We kicked off again, and again, the fullback took the ball, he kicked, and the big winger thundered down the pitch. One of our centres caught the ball, and the winger flattened him at the same time. He was a serious unit.

Some of our forwards rucked over them, the ball came out on our side, and our scrum-half boxed kicked the ball, and it went out of play twenty metres up the pitch. It was the right thing to do to slow down the game and reset the defensive lines.

The ref blew the whistle to stop the game as Jo ran on with her medic bag, and I ran on with water. I passed water around and ran over to Jo, the centre was winded, but he was a tough lad and was soon on his feet. We checked he was okay and fit to play on, which he was.

I ran back to the lads, retrieved the water bottles, and shouted out some words of encouragement to them before leaving the pitch.

The Fort William lads won their lineout, but the scrumhalf knocked the ball on, scrum to us. We won the ball, and Richard Deans, the number eight, went on a good run. He made good ground before two of their guys tackled him. Our scrum half got his hands on the ball after the forwards rucked over Dean’s, and the ball was out into the centres, then it was passed out to the winger.

We made good ground, but the Fort William defence stopped us just less than a foot from the try line. The ball was recycled, and then one of our props crashed over the line. What a try and what a welcome five points. The kick was taken, seven points and some confidence was put back into the lads.

So, it was five–seven to us...

Their flyhalf kicked off, high and long, and Johnstone was hoisted high into the air and took the ball cleanly. Two of the Fort William players crashed into the lads who were lifting him, the ref blew the whistle, and it was a penalty to us. We kicked to touch and won our lineout. The centres crashed the ball up the middle, time after time, our forwards rucked over and won the ball. We crashed it up the centre of the pitch and kept our hands on it.

Eventually, the opposition became careless and conceded a penalty right in front of the posts. We kicked, and it was now five-ten to us.

They kicked off, and again Johnstone got the ball. It was sent out into the centres, who made good ground, and then the forward pack had a good session of picking and driving. It was working well, and we were edging up the pitch metre by metre. It was good rugby, and it was stuff we had practised time and time again on the training pitch.

It was all about the grunt and grind, and the lads were doing well. The Fort William captain finally got fed up and charged in, going off his feet. The referee blew for another penalty, and we kicked to touch.