Chapter 10

Rugby is not soccer

As a twelve year old at secondary school, I’m not adverse to physical education (PE) I just like to do what I want to do, rather than being told to run around the outskirts of a huge playing field over and over again when its summertime and nearly 30 degrees.

After completing the third circuit of the playing field I am now dying, and as I pass the gym building, I decide to take a detour and run behind the gym and into the cool shade behind it.

As I run along the wall of the gym and turn the corner at the end, I see I am not the only one seeking shade, there are more runners here, and I make number six.

It is wintertime now, and we were all standing in a long row in one of the gymnasiums in our gym kits consisting of shorts, a long or short sleeved sports top, and long socks with plimsolls or soccer boots. It is Friday, and it is snowing hard outside.

Several PE Teachers are wandering up and down the row picking out the cream soccer players to play in small teams that will eventually play in the school team. The remaining students will be in the rugby team.

I wasn’t chosen for a football team, and neither was Jack. Jack turns his head and looks at me with a cross-looking face. I grin back.

He says to me…

JACK:  I don’t like rugby, I don’t want to be in a fucking rugby team,

ME: Its probably because that PE teacher over there caught us smoking behind the gymnasium,

JACK: He’s a cunt!

I laugh.

We have been picked by our PE teacher to play rugby and are now in two small eight aside teams. We get marched out into the cold and onto the playing fields. The ground is soft and turns muddy as we play rugby. We slip and slide around on the turf. A kid running down the pitch shouts at me, and I get the rugby ball thrust into my chest and get told to run.

As I run, I see Jack running beside me. He is beckoning me to pass the ball to him, I fling the ball in his direction and he grabs it and puts it under his arm. Just as he starts to sprint a tall big (Fat) kid from the opposition side punches him in the face and knocks Jack to the ground.

The fat rugby ball mugger picks up the ball from a flattened Jack and stamps off down the muddy pitch into a snow blizzard. I rush over to Jack and prop him up as he sits in a sea of grassy mud.

JACK: What the fuck was that. That fucking well hurt!

ME: You got blood on your bottom lip!

Jack licks around his mouth,

JACK: Oh! It’s sore!

We both hear the final whistle blow from someplace in the white snowy stormy void, then see a team of kids jogging off in the direction of the Gymnasium. We follow behind.

We shower off the mud and grass then dry off. The PE teacher tells us all to wait in the changing room before we go. The PE teacher’s name is Mr Hiblet. Because he makes us work hard and treats us like shit, we call him Mr Hitler

MR HITLER: Right then, you all done so well today I want you here tomorrow at Nine AM for a friendly rugby match against Sidcup Boys school rugby team. Now before you complain, I will tell you that you will all get next Friday afternoons PE lesson off. You can go home after lunch.

Me and Jack thought a Friday afternoon off school would fit in well with a morning off from school (a wag) so coming to school for a half hour each way game of rugby on Saturday morning didn’t seem so bad, as we were only going to run around and keep warm rather than participate anyway.

The next day (Saturday) we go to school and straight to the Gym. We all get changed into our kit and all go out to the sports ground.

The ground has frozen solid overnight, and all the mud has turned into small spiky mountains, it’s difficult to walk on and almost impossible to run on, and it is fucking cold.

The other team (Sidcup Boys School) are waiting for us and are all jogging on the spot. I see the fat mugger that attacked Jack in the other team, I ask Mr Hitler what is going on.

ME: Mr Hiblet, Sir, isn’t that kid on our side, why is he in the Sidcup boys’ team?

MR HITLER: He moved schools from yesterday, he is now a Sidcup boys’ student, and decided to play for his new school from today,

Me and Jack look at each other, Jack’s inquiring looking face says it all, Jack is still fucked off about his badly cut bottom lip after being mugged for the rugby ball the previous day.

During the first part of the game we just run up and down the pitch as planned and follow the ball just trying to keep warm, but we let the rest of our team do all the work.

The second half is much the same until just before the final whistle a scrum is formed, and the fat mugger came running out of the scrum with the ball going for a try.

Then to my amazement, Jack sprints across the frozen pitch, and from frozen spiky mud hill to frozen spiky mud hill like an arctic snow gazelle (if there is such an animal) he runs and jumps and grabs the fat mugger from the side. Jack tackles the fat mugger and brings him down on to the hard-spiky ground.

As they both tumble Jack falls on top of the fat kid, then as Jack tugs and pulls the rugby ball away from the mugger, I see Jacks elbow go into the mugger’s face which was hidden from view of the referee.

Jack then kicked the ball hard, and it went all the way down to the other end of the pitch where it was picked up by a member of our team, and a try and goal was scored as a result.

The whistle was blown, and the game was a draw. Jack got a scrapped and bloody knee from the tackle, but the fat kid got a big black eye from getting a single sharp blow from Jacks elbow.

A year later we went on a three day school coach trip to Paris, and while we were on the ferry traveling to France, we all swapped passports to look at each other’s photos and read each other’s details.

When we read out Jacks passport, we all laughed, because where it says, “Any change in appearance, or distinguishing physical features”, Jack had mentioned the rugby injury that he had had. But he couldn’t get it all the wording on one line, and it reads…

Because of a rugby injury, I have a scar on my Bottom,

------lip.