Team Sport
Mum had obviously spoken to Dad, I'm going to continue calling Dave, Dad because that's what I've done for over eighteen years. On Friday he and Henry called me into the office. I was a little worried, needlessly as it turned out. They just told me all was well, just treat everybody involved with respect and if there was any questions, just ask.
"Don't cause problems for Jimmy, please." said Dad as I was leaving.
I told him I wouldn't and thanked them both.
Match day was wet, drizzly. Not a good day for running around and getting muddy. Anne, Anne-too and I got there early. We took the horse box. A relic of earlier days when they had horses. Anne-too pulled on her expensive looking green wellies and went to inspect the pitch. Anne and I cuddled up under a warm blanket and watched through the rain spattered windscreen. She returned after about fifteen minutes.
"OK, she explained upon her return, "it's no better than it was years ago. There's a wide strip right down the centre. It's concave and a complete bog. Very heavy going. On the trees side it's very slightly drier. The trees taking up some of the moisture and some running down into the bog but it's still not good. Best bit is about five feet wide starting from the touch line. The other side isn't much better than the middle, heavy going.
Your opponents are older, former first team players not yet ready to hang up their boots. Lots of experience, crafty, know all the tricks but slower, heavier and probably not quite as fit as they should be. Best bet is to try and make them run about as much as possible."
She and Anne disappeared into the back of the horse box for a few minutes. They passed me two kit bags when they came back and we went over to the changing rooms. There was a good crowd awaiting us. It seemed like the whole family were there. Mum, Dad, Henry, Julie, Sally, Nanny Ruth, Nanny Angela even little Jimmy. I was ready to play my heart out. It was still a bit early so I was able to give my family a hug, Dad and Henry shook my hand and wished me luck. Even Jimmy slapped my back!
I was talking with Nanny Ruth when My Mum came up.
"You trying to lead my little boy astray?" she accused jokingly.
"Don't think there's much further astray I can lead him, is there? And he's certainly not little judging by the bulge in his pants!" replied Nanny Ruth with a filthy grin. "I'm happy to give it a go though," she added with a twinkle in her eye, "my bedside light needs a new bulb and you know what I'm like with electricals." she finished looking straight into my mother's eyes.
"I'll sort something out for you Mum," laughed her daughter.
Once everybody had arrived, in the changing room, Anne-too gave them the run down, outlined the tactics she wanted and told us to wait for her signal to try the new idea with the line-out. We all got into our strip mindless of the two beautiful women in our midst.
Just before we went out onto the pitch she and Anne stood on the bench. She gave us the pep talk.
"Don't forget what awaits our winning team!" she said as Anne and she opened their long, warm coats. They were both totally naked underneath! They had everyone's absolute attention!
"Are we going to win?" she shouted.
"Yes coach, Lady Coach!"
"Good boys! Now get out there and slaughter 'em!"
### ### ###
It was hard, heavy going. We were doing our best to wear them out. Only trying to stop them scoring points rather than score some ourselves. A holding game. The best option we had. They were slower but as tough as old boots. If we'd try to play them at their own game they would have flattened us!
A few minutes before half time we had a line out, on the wet side. Perfect! I looked at Anne. Her hands went out wide then up straight. Game on! I repeated the move with the ball in my left hand passing on the instructions to the team and fiddled about while every one got into position. Do or die! The ball sailed high over our opponents. Adrian, assisted by two team mates soared four feet higher, took the ball cleanly, twisted and passed the ball back to Neville on the edge of the bog. He made a short dash running past Graham positioned mid-bog. He passed it back to Graham who didn't move more than a couple of feet then threw a long, accurate, pass out to Rupert. He tucked the ball securely into his chest and set of down the drier side like the devil after a yearling, just inside the touchline. He streaked over the try line, ran towards the goal and made his touchdown just before the bog started. Five points!
Peter converted and we went into half time eight points ahead!
Barry wandered over towards the ref with his rule book, just in case. We headed for the warmth of the changing rooms, a hot shower and a clean strip.
The second half was good, very energetic with our opponents trying to get back into the game. We had to keep our wits about us but they were tired, we were running on lust and adrenalin and scored two more tries. Winners! On the way back to the changing rooms our opponents congratulated us on our game and tactics. 'Good win, lads! You deserved it.' which was very sporting.
"Everybody in, Barry?" asked Anne-too after we'd marched joyfully back to the changing room.
"Yep!"
"Lock the door!" She peeled off her warm coat. Anne followed suit. Perfection! Two naked beauties. The team roared approval.
"OK!" she announced, "First let me say that you all played brilliantly. It's a team sport and you played like a proper team. You used the ground well and there wasn't too many cock ups! But hopefully we'll get a few soon." she said to a cheer of delight.
"Players of the match. Martin, excellent throw-ins but you've had a very busy week," she looked over the team and made a big, theatrical wink...
There was another roar of applause and not a few rude comments. Little did they know!
"so don't need to be player-of-the-match. Adrian, excellent catches and passes. Gerry and Simon, great assists. Neville, Graham, perfect passes and Rupert, it's great to see a well executed move finished to perfection -- way to go guy! Proud of ya! Peter, good kicking. Nigel, love the way you handled that thug in the scrum! How many's that?"
"Eight, excluding Martin," replied Barry.
