Deeps - have you been at the rum again?
I wish! I am still thawing out from yesterday's game.
Much against my better judgement, I allowed myself to travel o'er seas to the 'island' for a Colts game. My erstwhile Hampshire Colts coach/manager colleague had explained on the phone a few days previously that this would be their second game of the season only and he was very worried for the future of Colts rugby thereabouts so the game was important. Even so, as I sat in the train heading for the ferry with the rain lashing down I clutched my mobile firmly to my ear so as not to miss the prayed for cancellation. It was miserable outside but the call didn't come.
The weather was foul at the ferry terminus, the ferry struggled against the wind and we were told to remain in our seats as the crossing was going to be rough. At the other side the ferry missed his first alongside (round again Cox'n) and took an inordinate time to find the pier; I was going to offer some professional help but did not want to rub it in that he was a crap ship handler.
The pitch was a mud bath, my shoes leaked while crossing over to the club house and that was before I got changed; wet and muddy socks then for the home trip. The players had to be brought in for their warm up being at risk from hypothermia outside in the hailstones. Eventually there was nothing for it and out we went cheered on by brave mums and dads hiding in the bushes from the wind and rain. Some fair weather supporters stayed in their cars yet you could tell who was supporting who by the flashing of lights and sounding of horns when someone scored.
Surprisingly enough, we had a good game and the lads wanted to play it open though chasing after intercepted passes was purgatory in the mud. I decided to let them get on with it and watched from nearby, only getting involved at the most obvious of knock ons and I think we had two penalties for not releasing the ball though this was probably more the fault of the mud than the players. I allowed the props to hold on at the 'touch' for fear that any contact at the hit might miss in the mud and it was most successful for we had not a single collapse and 5 strikes against the head which was wonderful.
I had started my watch the moment we left the changing rooms and refused any injury time at all, even so I suspect my watch was running fast too. Half time was about 30 seconds and we were off again. Some ten minutes later the rain stopped abruptly and all the supporters in cars came out to jeer. Yet the wind howled and those that had been bathing in the mud were becoming distinctly cold. Eventually the home skipper realised that they were not going to claw back their opponent's 47 points, took a quick straw poll and decided that they had had enough 20 minutes in.
I was alone at the final whistle as all were now dashing for the safety and relative warmth of the club house. Now here was a new dilemma. As there is only one set of showers at this particular club and with Child Protection guidelines firmly lodged in mind, I had agreed with the coaches that they would hold their teams for a warm down and 5 minute debrief to allow me to shower first. No chance, both teams stood en masse in the showers in full kit until all the hot water had gone.
I struggled to remove my sodden boots through numb fingers and gave up on my socks as the away team coach came in to confirm the score. Seeing my discomfort he offered to get me a drink to warm me up. At last I thought, a drop of Captain Morgans is just what I need. 'Oh, yes please', quoth I in much anticipation 'and make it a large one'.
'Right,' said he 'one large cup of tea coming up.'