One thing everyone struggles with in sport is the jump from Junior/Youth competitions into Open Age. Athletes who have been the biggest or fastest throughout their career are all of a sudden chucked in against smarter and more capable opponents.
Some people work hard and get through, a lot however drop off, unable to adapt to a new more physical game. I never really had that problem personally, although I can see why some players struggle. I'd spent my entire junior years playing against "bigger boys." One of the biggest examples of this was the famous Greater Manchester Youth Games. This was a huge multi-sport competition that took place across loads of age groups across a weekend. My team put in three teams in the competition, Under 9's, Under 11's and Under 13's. I was 11 at the time and my brother was 14 (so technically he shouldnt have played for anyon but he played for the 13s).
The competition went as normal, after about 3 games our head coach game across to me and the captain of the under 11's. "Alright lads I need a favour, can you go and play in the Under 9's" Now at this point I thought he was taking the piss, both me and the Captain were both quite big for our age so were sometimes made to show our cards so we could play in our own age group. But we did as we were asked and turned up to the next game for the under 9's, the players on the opposition looked familiar. About 3 of them looked really familiar, that was because I'd see them playing against in the Under 13's squad a few weeks ago. Now there's cheating and then theres taking the piss, and this lot were well and truly taking the piss.
As with most memories of my matches they were hazy, the game was only 10 minutes long but it felt like an hour.We were getting destroyed and our only chance of us getting any points was with me taking a drive with them on their tryline. Rather than tackle me they decided to pick me up and dump me over their shoulders head first. I've no idea whether I put that ball down, I get the feeling the ref felt sorry for me and gave me a try. As I picked myself up feeling like my face had been shagged by a Land rover I walked back towards my team mates. Suddenly I felt the floor shaking. I thought that I'd knocked something loose in my head and my brains were gonna drop through my nose (or something else as dramatic). I turned to my right and saw a plume of smoke on the horizon, followed by a loud "BOOM"
That was the Manchester Bomb.
End of the game I limped off the pitch to find my entire Under 13 squad had come to watch us, they'd been kicked out because someone had found out that my brother was over-age. But they did get one last game, they ended up convincing the team I had just been piledrivered by to play them in one game or else they would grass them up as well.
I then spent my the next twenty minutes literally pissing myself laughing as my brother and his demented mates took out their revenge on the lads who had battered me. In ten minutes they'd racked up 40 points, sent three lads off injured and generally managed to destroy any chance the cheating shits had of winning anything over the weekend.
Moral of the story, no matter how big you are, there's always someone bigger. So don't throw your weight around too much with the little ones, because you'll just make yourself a target.
Cheers for reading, the next one will be out on Monday!
Sunday 19 June 2011
Sunday 12 June 2011
Smashing props
The one thing no-one can ever deny about Rugby League is that its a physical game. Tackling in Rugby is similar to driving two cars straight into each other, except the crumple zone is normally your rib cage. I've never been a player who could put in the big hits every week, I've recieved a few over the years, it was normally left to the forwards and my cape-wearing Brother to do that type of stuff. However there were those rare occassions when I was able to play above my normal standard.
When I got back playing Rugby after my knee injury (see last weeks Blog) I went back to my old club to find them struggling to put out a 13 and sat at the bottom of the league. Although this led to some of the worst drubbing of my career, I actually enjoyed this year the most. The 13 we had was the same 13 every week, our oldest player was 24 and we had no actual coach. Training had at best 6 players and all that we could do was work on skills (tackling, passing) and fitness.
We travelled to the top of the league with these 13 lads and I ended up out on the wing as usual and we turned up to find that not only did they have a full 17 but they actually had three forwards from their Premier team that had dropped down because their game had been called off. We started off as usual, they crossed for a try early on and pretty much kept us in our half. Their kicks were always high, leading to everytime I caught the ball I was boomed straight away.
Half time came and we were only 12-0 down but our fullback had limped off and our only close attempt at scoring came with a truly shit attempt at a drop goal. However what gave us a lift was the sight of their coach giving "top of the league" an absolute bollocking. According to him we'd bossed them in defence and made them look average at best. The worlds shortest team talk ever (my brother telling us all to not let them score) and we were off again.
Second half was a different story, they were now running complicated plays right down the middle of us. Our forwards were knackered and I was getting increasingly getting pissed off at having to chase their forwards 40 yards down the pitch when they broke through. The thing was no-one was coming down my wing meaning I had no-one to take my frustration out on. An added bonus was the heckling from the touchline, the rest of their Premier team had turned up to watch the game and were basically taking the piss from the sidelines.
At this point I was well and truly miffed, I was piss-wet-through, getting beaten, and had not run in the ball in the entire second half. Then all of a sudden they decided to come down my wing, it was the fifth tackle and they'd gone for a power play. This means that instead of kicking they'd run it in. Their Premier Prop came steaming towards me with about 5 players in support. To be quite honest I don't remember what happened next, my brother tells me it was the funniest thing he's ever seen. Apparently I ran pult pelt into him and as he went into pass I then flew in shoulder first and absolutely cleaned out the forward leaving the ball to bobble forward. Their prop was dragged off the pitch looking back at the 12 stone winger half his size that had practically knocked him out. For the next ten minutes we were on top, whether it was our team were lifted or theirs went downhill, I don't know. But we managed to actually get into their half of the pitch a couple of times I even got to run in the ball!
The problem was I got the ball because my centre massively high tackled a forward. The referee didn't blow (perhaps out of mercy for us) and I picked up the ball to run it in. I might as well have been wearing a pink tutu and a t-shirt saying "I've had all your mums". To a chorus of "Get him fooking banged" I ducked the first two high shots but then got cracked on the jaw, instant payback, as I lay on the floor trying to find my chin about 4 of their players then piled on top of me. I had never been so popular on a Rugby Pitch.
We ended the match 34 - 0, and despite not even getting close to scoring its still one of the games I still look back at and enjoy. The 13 lads I went to Rochdale with were genuine mates and despite getting battered we actually enjoyed the game. We could pretend that with a few subs it would have been a different game, but it didnt matter. I'll take that memory and remember that one day, despite never repeating it again, I actually managed to clean out a prop.
When I got back playing Rugby after my knee injury (see last weeks Blog) I went back to my old club to find them struggling to put out a 13 and sat at the bottom of the league. Although this led to some of the worst drubbing of my career, I actually enjoyed this year the most. The 13 we had was the same 13 every week, our oldest player was 24 and we had no actual coach. Training had at best 6 players and all that we could do was work on skills (tackling, passing) and fitness.
We travelled to the top of the league with these 13 lads and I ended up out on the wing as usual and we turned up to find that not only did they have a full 17 but they actually had three forwards from their Premier team that had dropped down because their game had been called off. We started off as usual, they crossed for a try early on and pretty much kept us in our half. Their kicks were always high, leading to everytime I caught the ball I was boomed straight away.
Half time came and we were only 12-0 down but our fullback had limped off and our only close attempt at scoring came with a truly shit attempt at a drop goal. However what gave us a lift was the sight of their coach giving "top of the league" an absolute bollocking. According to him we'd bossed them in defence and made them look average at best. The worlds shortest team talk ever (my brother telling us all to not let them score) and we were off again.
Second half was a different story, they were now running complicated plays right down the middle of us. Our forwards were knackered and I was getting increasingly getting pissed off at having to chase their forwards 40 yards down the pitch when they broke through. The thing was no-one was coming down my wing meaning I had no-one to take my frustration out on. An added bonus was the heckling from the touchline, the rest of their Premier team had turned up to watch the game and were basically taking the piss from the sidelines.
At this point I was well and truly miffed, I was piss-wet-through, getting beaten, and had not run in the ball in the entire second half. Then all of a sudden they decided to come down my wing, it was the fifth tackle and they'd gone for a power play. This means that instead of kicking they'd run it in. Their Premier Prop came steaming towards me with about 5 players in support. To be quite honest I don't remember what happened next, my brother tells me it was the funniest thing he's ever seen. Apparently I ran pult pelt into him and as he went into pass I then flew in shoulder first and absolutely cleaned out the forward leaving the ball to bobble forward. Their prop was dragged off the pitch looking back at the 12 stone winger half his size that had practically knocked him out. For the next ten minutes we were on top, whether it was our team were lifted or theirs went downhill, I don't know. But we managed to actually get into their half of the pitch a couple of times I even got to run in the ball!
The problem was I got the ball because my centre massively high tackled a forward. The referee didn't blow (perhaps out of mercy for us) and I picked up the ball to run it in. I might as well have been wearing a pink tutu and a t-shirt saying "I've had all your mums". To a chorus of "Get him fooking banged" I ducked the first two high shots but then got cracked on the jaw, instant payback, as I lay on the floor trying to find my chin about 4 of their players then piled on top of me. I had never been so popular on a Rugby Pitch.
We ended the match 34 - 0, and despite not even getting close to scoring its still one of the games I still look back at and enjoy. The 13 lads I went to Rochdale with were genuine mates and despite getting battered we actually enjoyed the game. We could pretend that with a few subs it would have been a different game, but it didnt matter. I'll take that memory and remember that one day, despite never repeating it again, I actually managed to clean out a prop.
Friday 3 June 2011
Don't forget your Insurance!
I saw the news the other week about Keith Senior, and how after a knee injury his season may be over. Now in Rugby League injuries happen all the time, infact pretty much every game has some injury whether it be the pro's or us morons at the bottom. Someone is gonna get hurt.
The one bit of advice I will give to anyone playing Rugby League, or infact any contact sport is this: "Get yourself some bloody insurance" because there is a one in 26 chance that this week will be your unlucky week.
One of my unlucky weeks, in fact scrap that, my unluckiest weeks came on a wet Saturday lunch time against a team in Barnsley. I had been playing open age on the wing for one year, and as usual we travelled with a scratch 13. One of our props was turning up in about half an hour and we'd have to survive until then without any subs.
The other team were well and truly up for it, and were running through the middle of us for fun. We didn't have a bad team but for some reason the Forwards were just not doing anything in defence. To be quite frank we were all shite that day, me included. In the first ten minutes they ran in 3 tries and we were camped in our own twenty metre line for nearly all of it.
Our fullback gave me a bollocking, they broke through our middle again and went in for a try, I slid in and tried to get under him to hold him up but didn't. Our fullback thought a better choice would have been to try and boot the ball out of his hands on the way down.......
Now thoroughly pissed off and getting embarrassed at getting owned like this on a Rugby pitch, I decided to let off some steam. I ran in front of the prop and took the ball in, instead of leaving him to take the pass. I was fed up of being camped on my tryline and wanted to show those forwards how to drive it in. With the first guy coming in at my side I decided to try and shoulder him off, except what I didn't see was his mate coming from the other side. What happened next I have no idea, I remember spinning around and landing on the ground with about 4 big fat forwards on top of me. I yelled out like a big jessie and tried to bend my left leg, but it wouldn't move.
My brother dragged the players off the top of me and I glanced down at my leg to find me kneecap on the outside of my leg. If you haven't already guessed it I'd dislocated my kneecap.
The usual stuff happened that goes on when someone is hurt, the refs stops the match, you get covered in tinfoil like a turkey and you get an ambulance to turn up about an hour later. When they did finally turn up I got introduced to gas and air for the first time. Bugger me that stuff is weird, whilst the paramedics tried to get my leg in a position to put me on the stretcher I decided to act like the biggest nobhead in the world.
At one point I turned over "Coach, Coach come here coach", he trundled over "Yeah what is it mate?" "Can I skip training on Tuesday?" Now to me I was suddenly the funniest guy in the world, I was asking the Paramedics would I be back for the second half, I was waving to the other team and generally just being a pratt. I was quickly put back in my place by my brother who walked up with a quick word in my ear "Bro, shut up your being an idiot go to Hospital and let us get on with the game."
And so I was carted off, with my knee popping back into place I then began talking absolute bollocks to anyone within 5 yards of me until the gas and air ran out about half an hour later. In Barnsley hospital I was put into a full-leg pot and sent on my way within an hour. I went to the only place you ever go when your hurt, your Mums. I pretty much didn't move from her sofa until about a week later when I could put pressure on my leg again. It was 9 months before I could play again, to be fair it didn't affect my performance. I was crap before I got injured and I was crap after I got injured so I can't claim it ruined my career.
However I didn't have insurance, which meant for the 4 months I couldn't work I lost everything else. My flat, my motorbike and my most prized possession my surround sound TV system (that was nicked by my Brother). If you could, do, or are going to play Rugby go off and get some insurance it costs twenty quid a month and when your unlucky game comes up at least you'll be ok financially.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot when my Brother met up with me at home he told me how after watching me get carted off in an ambulance he gave a team talk that William Wallace would have been proud of. "Awesome, so you won?" I said, assuming my injury had inspired my team mates into a monstrous performance. "No mate" he said "we got one try back and they ran in 7 more."
The one bit of advice I will give to anyone playing Rugby League, or infact any contact sport is this: "Get yourself some bloody insurance" because there is a one in 26 chance that this week will be your unlucky week.
One of my unlucky weeks, in fact scrap that, my unluckiest weeks came on a wet Saturday lunch time against a team in Barnsley. I had been playing open age on the wing for one year, and as usual we travelled with a scratch 13. One of our props was turning up in about half an hour and we'd have to survive until then without any subs.
The other team were well and truly up for it, and were running through the middle of us for fun. We didn't have a bad team but for some reason the Forwards were just not doing anything in defence. To be quite frank we were all shite that day, me included. In the first ten minutes they ran in 3 tries and we were camped in our own twenty metre line for nearly all of it.
Our fullback gave me a bollocking, they broke through our middle again and went in for a try, I slid in and tried to get under him to hold him up but didn't. Our fullback thought a better choice would have been to try and boot the ball out of his hands on the way down.......
Now thoroughly pissed off and getting embarrassed at getting owned like this on a Rugby pitch, I decided to let off some steam. I ran in front of the prop and took the ball in, instead of leaving him to take the pass. I was fed up of being camped on my tryline and wanted to show those forwards how to drive it in. With the first guy coming in at my side I decided to try and shoulder him off, except what I didn't see was his mate coming from the other side. What happened next I have no idea, I remember spinning around and landing on the ground with about 4 big fat forwards on top of me. I yelled out like a big jessie and tried to bend my left leg, but it wouldn't move.
My brother dragged the players off the top of me and I glanced down at my leg to find me kneecap on the outside of my leg. If you haven't already guessed it I'd dislocated my kneecap.
The usual stuff happened that goes on when someone is hurt, the refs stops the match, you get covered in tinfoil like a turkey and you get an ambulance to turn up about an hour later. When they did finally turn up I got introduced to gas and air for the first time. Bugger me that stuff is weird, whilst the paramedics tried to get my leg in a position to put me on the stretcher I decided to act like the biggest nobhead in the world.
At one point I turned over "Coach, Coach come here coach", he trundled over "Yeah what is it mate?" "Can I skip training on Tuesday?" Now to me I was suddenly the funniest guy in the world, I was asking the Paramedics would I be back for the second half, I was waving to the other team and generally just being a pratt. I was quickly put back in my place by my brother who walked up with a quick word in my ear "Bro, shut up your being an idiot go to Hospital and let us get on with the game."
And so I was carted off, with my knee popping back into place I then began talking absolute bollocks to anyone within 5 yards of me until the gas and air ran out about half an hour later. In Barnsley hospital I was put into a full-leg pot and sent on my way within an hour. I went to the only place you ever go when your hurt, your Mums. I pretty much didn't move from her sofa until about a week later when I could put pressure on my leg again. It was 9 months before I could play again, to be fair it didn't affect my performance. I was crap before I got injured and I was crap after I got injured so I can't claim it ruined my career.
However I didn't have insurance, which meant for the 4 months I couldn't work I lost everything else. My flat, my motorbike and my most prized possession my surround sound TV system (that was nicked by my Brother). If you could, do, or are going to play Rugby go off and get some insurance it costs twenty quid a month and when your unlucky game comes up at least you'll be ok financially.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot when my Brother met up with me at home he told me how after watching me get carted off in an ambulance he gave a team talk that William Wallace would have been proud of. "Awesome, so you won?" I said, assuming my injury had inspired my team mates into a monstrous performance. "No mate" he said "we got one try back and they ran in 7 more."
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