Chapter 3

We got to the comprehensive school, St Anne’s, and we were met by their games master who introduced himself as Derek Bevan. He led us into our changing room and showed us where everything was. We had a good two hours before the game, so I got the lads out onto the pitch and got them warming up. We started with stretches and a warmup run.

Their heads seemed to have dropped during the drive over to St Anne’s. I tried to get the excitement back into them. Tried to build up some spirit.

The lads from the other team were warming up, they had some big units in their team, and they all looked handy with the rugby ball. I exchanged a few words with their coaches, they seemed to have three or four. They seemed nice enough and eager to chat, but I used to get that a lot, having been a pro player.

The referee came over and had a chat with me and the lads. He was a teacher from another local school, and he seemed clued up. He was eager to see that the game was played well and fairly.

A couple of the younger lads were sorting out the subs bench, filling the water bottles and stuff like that under the watchful eye of Jo Page, she was there sorting out her first aid and medical stuff.

Then I got the lads hitting the tackle bags before I split them into backs and forwards to do specialised training. With twenty minutes to go, I called the guys into the dressing room, and I did my coach’s speech to them.

I told them to stick to the game plan, to look out for each other, to keep the ball alive and to enjoy the game.

Then I left Barnes to do his captain’s speech and I went outside with Jo Page. She had all her stuff sorted. I looked around and saw that the far side of the pitch was ringed by loads of kids from our school plus many of the teachers, Brain Carothers, Mr Bones, Mr Chips and Natalie Norbury were there plus I few I had yet to meet.

Even Professor McClusky and Miss Green were there to watch. There was also a guy that looked just like McClusky but ten years younger, I guessed he was the brother I had heard so much about. He was deep in conversation with our headmaster.

The lads came out of the dressing rooms and got into position. The opposition came out and they looked well up for it. The referee tossed a coin and we lost; they would kick off to us.

The referee blew his whistle and their flyhalf kicked the ball high into the sky. The first ten minutes were hard, they hit our lads hard, outtackling them, outrunning them. It was obvious they were well-drilled, and they worked well for each other. They were awarded a scrum and our lads were obliterated, the St Anne’s lads shoved them backwards and gave them a real working over.

They got the ball and crashed up the pitch, our lads tried hard, they put tackles in but St Anne’s were a big, hard side and they took some stopping.

We gave away a penalty and their kicker lined up his kick, and as sweet as a nut it was over. 3-0 to them. He was a good kicker and it was obvious he knew his trade.

We kicked off and their full-back collected the ball. He ran hard and straight ... he had pace and strength.

He was soon over the halfway line and one of my guys hit him, a great tackle that sent him backwards, but not before he had offloaded the ball. The ball was passed from inside centre to outside centre to winger and they scored a try. The conversion was kicked, and we kicked off again.

It was a carbon copy; the full-back charged the line and the centres supported him. Less than a minute later we were 17-0 down. This was not good I thought, I called out to our winger, a big lad called Ben Cloowen to take a knee and he did. Taking a knee is a way to stop the game, the physio will run on, and the ref will blow his whistle. It’s a bit of gamesmanship but all sides both pro and amateur use the technique.

He dropped to the floor and called out to the referee who stopped the game.

The Physio was called on and I grabbed the water bottle tray and ran on. I handed out the bottles and the lads gulped down the liquid.

“Right lads, they have a game plan and we have played into their hands by the look of things,” I said, and they all nodded.

“So, what do we do?” Barnes asked rather defensively,

“Don’t kick high and long, kick low and short!” I told him, he nodded in agreement.

“So just kick a grubber?” he asked between gulps of water.

“Yes, that’s it, “I said and turned to the rest of the team, “right get ready to hit whoever gets the ball and hit him hard.”

“How hard Sir?” asked one of our backrowers.

“As hard as you fucking can mate,” I said. I knew I was not supposed to swear but sometimes it’s called for