Het is bijna Kerst, Chrismas carols schallen uit de speakers van lege winkelstraten en samen met gluhwijn of warme choco langs het veld staan is – sinds de persconferentie van afgelopen maandag – toch weer nog verder weg….
Schrijven over de belevenissen van een HRC rugby-mum wordt er ook al niet makkelijker op, als je nog maar sporadisch op de club komt. Op zoek naar toch een stukje, vond ik op de website van ene Wes Clark een gedicht dat hij op zijn beurt op de site van een rugby club uit Washington D.C. zag (die het weer van een oude “Proptalk” website zouden hebben geplukt en ikzelf kende het van de speach van de Australische rugby commentator Mick Colliss voor de Colliflower Club).
Ik vind rijm in het Engels wel kerstig. En hoewel ik denk dat vele van jullie het al lang kennen, hoop ik dat het jullie (weer) een glimlach ontlokt tijdens deze tweede lock down en deel ik het – bij wijze van kerstwens – graag met jullie.
It was mid way through the season,
they were just outside the four,
and although I know they won it,
I can’t think of the score.
But there’s one thing I remember
and to me it says a lot
about the men who front the scrum
and the men we call “the props”.
They won a hard-fought scrum
and the backs went for a run,
the flankers quickly ripped the ball
and the second phase was won,
another back then crashed it up
and took it to the line
another maul was duly set,
to attack them one more time.
The forwards pushed and rolled the maul –
made sure the work was done –
the last man in played loose head prop….
The ball was pushed in to his hands,
he held it like a beer,
then simply fell to score the try:
his first in 15 years!
Then later, once the game was done,
he sat amidst the team.
He led the song and called himself
“The try-scoring machine“.
But it wasn’t till the night wore on
that the truth was finally told,
just 3 beers in, he’d scored the try and also kicked the goal!
At 7 o’clock the try was scored,
by barging through their pack,
he carried two men as he scored,
while stepping ‘round a back.
By 8 he’d run twenty yards,
out-sprinting their quick men,
then beat their last line of defence,
with a Jonah Lomu fend.
By 9 he’d run from near half way,
and thrown a cut-out pass,
then looped around and run again,
no one was in his class.
By 10 he’d run from end to end,
his teammates were now bored,
he chipped and caught it on the full,
then swan dived as he scored.
By 11 he’d drunk 2 dozen beers,
but still his eyes did glisten,
as he told the story of that try.
His chest filled up, as he spoke,
his voice was filled with pride,
he felt for sure he would be named,
next week’s captain of the side.
By nights end he was by himself,
still taking on his own,
the lights were out, the bar was shut,
his mates had all gone home.
And that’s why I love the front row,
they simply never stop.
So please, always do lend an ear,
when a try’s scored by a prop!
Heb een goede (en gezonde) Kerst, wees voorzichtig en tackel hard!
Liefs,
Mum