Sometimes its easier to start at the end, and in my case the end was my last ever Rugby League match. I've been playing Rugby since I was 8, my Brother had been playing it for a while and I was naff at footy so I decided to give it a go. I kept playing as long as I could, whenever I could. I was never a great player, I occassionally had great matches but this would normally only last 2-3 games before I'd be average or below sometimes.
I'll share with everyone my experiences of Rugby League at the grass roots level, where its at its best and sometimes at its bloodiest. I've had some cracking laughs over the years as well as some down right shite moments to boot. However I'll speak it from my point of view, from how I saw it, whether people agree or disagree this is how I saw the sport and in particular the guys I played with and against.
So enough bleating this was the last time I ever strapped on my boots and went out to play the sport I love.
I'd decided over the summer to give winter Rugby once last chance, I'd played the last couple of seasons in the summer and had not particularly enjoyed it. So I thought I'd go out find a new team and go and play for them in the winter, someone really low down where I could just pitch up and chuck a ball about. I'd been to one training session with this team and I'd decided to play at 6 or 7. I was too old to play in the backs anymore, well actually thats bollocks reality was I too slow to play in the backs by this time and I was too small to be a forward.
I turned up at the meeting point on Saturday, got myself my usual Lucozade and jelly beans and waited in the pub for them to name the team. With about 25 lads they knocked it down to 17 and told me I was playing 9 for the game. A little bit confused as I'd never said I'd played 9 before and most of the forwards hadnt been to the training session I'd be at. But sod it, I wasn't there to be technical I just wanted a game.
We were playing away so a few of the lads jumped in the car with me and we all set off. About 10 minutes in everyone pulled in for some petrol and all the lads jumped out and went inside to grab some scran. A sat down on the bonnet of my car and just started doing the usual rubbish I'd be taught about concentrating on the game etc. About 15 minutes later we've still not set off, so I ambled over to the coach and asked him when we were setting off, we were already cutting it tight for kick off and now it was starting to take the piss. At this point I turned around and looked back at my car to see two of the lads stood next to it having a smoke!!! "Oi nobheads are you mental, you're in a petrol station." So right next to my car the pair of them did the most sensible thing and dropped them on the floor to stamp them out. Feck me I cringed waiting for everything to explode, how I didn't tish myself I don't know.
Crisis past everyone got chased back to the cars to head off to someplace in St Helens for our away game. As I thought we arrived with just enough time to throw our kit on and get out onto the pitch. I've never had a pre-match routine and days like this were the reason I don't. There's been too many times I've turned up at an away game with just enough time to tuck my bollocks into a pair of shorts and run out to get my head kicked in on a Rugby pitch. Having a ritual to do would have made things worse, so I always just got ready as fast as possible and jogged out.
The match started and the suprisingly for the first ten minutes we seemed to be holding our own, except there was one problem. The guy was playing 7 called "stiggy" kept running in at hooker whenever we were on attack. Making me a bit of a bystander, the stupid thing was when we stopped for a scrum I asked him what he was doing. He looked at me completely confused "I always get the ball from the play the ball". I told him that the coaches had been bellowing for the last ten minutes to get him back to his own position as scrum half and I'd take the ball from the Ruck.
All sorted now, well actually no, because what I did next really ballsed things up right royally. My excuse is this was the first time I'd had my hands on a ball all day, I'd had one training session in 3 months and that was it. As I picked up the ball from the ruck and passed it, I completely got my technique wrong and ended throwing a ridiculously high looping pass to "stiggy".
Now it was a shite pass I'll not say it wasn't but "stiggy's" reaction was priceless, he theatrically leaped for the ball, missed and then went storming over to the coach. "What the feck is that, that was shite, get him off the pitch, he could have got me killed!" The opposition looked at this and burst out laughing, I would have too to be honest. I wondered across to apologise and explain it was a bit of rust, only for "stiggy" to take a swing at my jaw. About 5 minutes of scrapping later the ref decided he couldn't really send two players off from one team and decided to instead give us both a ticking off, the usual rubbish that I'd heard a few hundred times.
We're 15 minutes in, the opposition is now starting to run through the forwards for fun and whats more the coaches have now fallen silent. Bollocks to this, I thought I'm not going to keep running around trying to bust a gut for a bunch of players that would rather punch me than pass to me. For the next 65 minutes I did nothing but defence and take the odd drive in, I thought I'd get myself subbed that way and just bugger off home. But they decided to keep me on until the end, a resounding 78 - 0 thrashing which finished with a 4 man brawl....... once again just from my team scrapping with each other.
Now severely pissed off I told the lads that came with me to get a life home with someone else, paid my subs got changed and went straight back to my car. I'd come to release my frustration and anger onto the pitch, but I'd left worse than when I arrived. A quick glance in the mirror and I could see a shiner coming out, courtesy of "stiggys" awesome team play and as few scratches for couple of high shots I'd taken. The boss wasn't gonna be best chuffed with me in the morning, nor was the missus I'd had 3 missed calls from her already wondering how I'd got on.
I started the car, and drove straight home to ring my Brother to see how he'd got on. It took me about 45 minutes to get back, but it gave me plenty of time to decide that I'd had enough. My best days were behind me, most of my mates had stopped or pretty much stopped playing. I'd tried playing for a couple of new clubs but never settled in, rugby wasn't fun anymore it was hard work.
I put my boots, pads and gumshield in a bag at the bottom of the wardrobe, infact they're still there. Not moved in over a year and a half, and they'll probably only move when the missus finds them. She still hasn't figured out that the strange smell comes from my boots that I still can't be arsed washing.
Thanks for reading, my next blogs will go back to some of my best memories in amateur rugby league. Not all were as awful as this, infact most of my memories still make me laugh today. Subscribe to keep in touch or follow me on twitter - @4thchoicecentre
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