Rugby Rugby Rugby
After dinner speeches, songs and banter on the coach trip, the end of season tour, or, just that post-match banter are all sources of anecdotes where some will be told for years to come and often be the source of the odd free pint along the way.
So, a few stories from one aging ex rugby player.
The Presidents Order
On a distant rugby 7’s tournament the decision was made to look after the club president who had not been able to make the 6-hour trip. At our hotel, a decision was made whilst eating our sustenance prior to hitting the towns bars and nightclub (there was just the one) we would phone the president and let him know how we got on. It was then suggested as he had missed out we would order him some food, home delivered and he would enjoy it having missed out on the rugby and beers. In principle, a nice gesture but it was taken to the next level, that for the next 6 hours at hourly intervals a delivery was organised from a different eating establishment or carryout restaurant. None of these were paid for in advance and he probably saw the funny side for the first two but at 1am in the morning having an irate delivery driver demanding money for a meal he did not want did wear a bit thin.
The France Tour
On a hot night in Orleans and after copious amounts of French lager (drunk out of vases but that is another story) the three who had stayed out past the curfew decided they knew the way back to the hotel and started walking in what they believed to be the right direction. After 45 minutes of brisk walking it was obvious that the city district entered was not right one and the buildings and streets where more like a ghetto. Solution appeared coming towards us, a taxi, although the “for hire” light was not on, driving down the empty main street. Three drunk rugby players stepped into the road and waved furiously. As the taxi approached it was not a taxi but a police car with a collar in the back; handcuffs on! The gendarmes were more than helpful and started trying to locate a taxi for us. Then with the pending wait for the taxi and the area we had walked into they decided to give us a lift across the city to the hotel (opposite direction to that which we had walked). Got the picture? Three drunk rugby players crammed into the back of the police car with a less than happy restrained criminal seated in the middle. I am sure the gendarme had a story to tell at shift handover as did we over croissants at breakfast.
The Club Dinner
After an early start the drinks had been flowing for quite some time before we were respectively escorted to the function suite to take our seats. One of the coaches, a rotund and bearded chap had the pleasure of sitting at the top table and assigned the task of providing the opening address. Well getting back to the drinks in the bar beforehand and this stalwart of the club had maybe had one or two too many. When ushered to his seat he had poured himself a large glass of wine and before the scotch broth arrived he had consumed a bottle or two. Although he finished his soup he decided to get forty winks and had faced planted into his bowl. Subsequent courses arrived and were consumed, laughter and jollity across the assembled and yet this rugby stalwart was left to his slumbers. Time for the speeches. Opening address? A prompt elbow to the ribs and a startled rabbit in the headlamps arousal and rising to his feet! What followed from the mouth of barley laden beard was, and is still, the best rugby speech I have ever heard…… RUGBY RUGBY RUGBY!!! He sat down to applause and faceplanted the soup bowl again.
