Two More Brightly Coloured Things, Please…

A little while back I posted a blog regarding Things That I Haven’t Seen for a While.

It must be my age, and that of my peers (and family) but I have received literally some responses. I have been inundated with nearly 6 (six) emails and/or comments. You’ll have seen a few in my last blog but now, for your delight and delectation, ladyboys and gentlemen, I give you…

Some More Things Not Seen in a While in the World of Rugby.

"Chilblains which I got on two occasions; once In Tywyn as a 12 year old (actually it was the coldest I have ever been, it was the north Wales coastal wind, I think I had hypothermia!) And at BP LLandarcy, snow on the field."

Linked to that:

"Straw on pitches". I can’t help thinking that The Arms Park could do with some on the pitch just in front of the South Stand (I am sure I remember it being called South Field in the Old Days).

"Is a large sherry before a midwinter game still part of the Llandaff RFC warm-up routine?"

A winger arguing with his more senior international colleague explaining (loudly enough for half the crowd to hear) why a try scoring chance went begging with the immortal phrase, 'F**k off ya' C***! You never paaassed to me laaaast time!' - Gerald Cordle to Mark Ring for Cardiff.

A replacement winger being asked to extinguish a roly on the field of play by the ref, having just been subbed onto a very cold, blustery Roath Park Rec. He had just spent the previous hour shivering on the touchline with chilled fingers and forgot the ciggie was there (it had already gone out). I got a tr, erm… HE got a try that game, too. Lovely little chip, chase, gather, 45 yard scamper and under the posts. Nice.

Mate of mine was playing fullback and grounded a kick over the try line. He was somewhat shocked to have the oppo wing clatter into him as he was strolling towards his 22. Telling the winger to, ahem, Go Away, You Rotter, he then ‘scuffled’ with him in a righteously indignant manner. Oddly enough, the winger appeared equally upset. The ugliness of the situation was only resolved when it was pointed out to Matt that he had grounded the ball just inside his own 5m line, not the try line. He is a decent man and apologised in the agreed rugby-mumble fashion. Both parties had the obligatory chuckling pint in the bar later.

Matt is actually one of those remarkable players who, to my uncertain knowledge, has played in every position on the park, bar prop. And he does it so well regardless of the number on his back. Startling. Lovely bloke, too. We went drinking once when I was a student for the second time. He insisted that we go on the pop despite my protest that I was skint. He paid. We ended up in some bar (possibly the Students Union on Park Place, Cardiff. Possibly…) both of us ‘Relaxed’ as Skunks. Matt, straightening himself up unsteadily but with some dignity, caught the eye of the barmaid and, pointing at the fridge of aclopops (sic), said,

‘We’d like two brightly coloured things, now please. And two more brightly coloured things every quarter of an hour until one or both of us falls over. Thank you.’

She fulfilled the request.