Ever since being introduced to the game of rugby, as a 12 year old boy, I have loved it. By the age of 15 I was not only training twice a week and playing on Saturday afternoons with the school team- I was also playing on Sundays for Norwich rugby club…permission given on the strict understanding I went to church in the evenings! (NB: a shrewd move by my parents as this ensured I did not resent the church but grew to love it)
It took less than three minutes for my natural position to be found- having been chosen as number 8, my school master stopped the game with a whistle and some prophetic words ‘Tomlinson swap with Stretton, you are far slower than I thought and quite clearly a prop!’ How right he was, the number 3 shirt has been mine ever since!
When I went to Homerton College I helped form its first ever rugby team (pictured above) and we mounted one of the most sterling cup runs I have known. With only a handful of men to choose from (Homerton was ten women to every man) we were being mocked throughout the University for having bothered to pull a team together at all. But hidden amongst the rag tag army of total amateurs was one Findlay McMillan (a Bristol docker with fists of iron) and Tarquin Bennett-Coles (who had played for London Welsh). We beat Girton and Queens college comfortably before losing by two points to S. John’s (who went on to win). Furthermore every team we encountered that season was rather envious of the huge army of girlies, cheering us on from the sides. Happy days!
I then moved to Colchester to teach and captained the third XV there. We went unbeaten for two seasons before the 1st and 2nd XV clocked onto the fact that the players I was reporting to be ‘mediocre’ at selection meetings, were in fact some of the best at the club! Great days again and, as ever, rugby introduced me to some wonderful people (and a few rogues as well!)
A return to Cambridge for theological training led to my playing for Emmanuel College 1st XV-(pictured above; only real men play in pink!) and over the next three years we rose from the bottom of the third division to finishing second in the first division and winning the cupper’s plate twice. (one of my proudest rugby moments being to score the winning try in the final, from all of two yards out!)
I then moved to Brentwood for my curacy and spent three very happy years playing for the Old Brentwoods, a delightful little club with connections to Brentwood school. The chaps were some of the most pleasant I have played with and I still return on occasion for the odd dinner and social! The team is pictured above when we won a cup tournament (I look exhausted at the rear as there was a distinct lack of props and I had to play three games on the trot!) This team is also pictured at the top of the article, posing in club blazers for the official opening of a new spectator’s stand, which was blessed with much incense and a full serving party. It seemed my dream of playing until the age of 50 would come to pass….
But on arriving in Tunbridge Wells I struggled to find time to play. The first year of incumbency is challenging enough but with a new baby added to the learning curve as well, free afternoons became incredibly scarce! And whilst I did play a few times for various sides at Tonbridge rugby club, I never really got into a rhythm or had time to make friends at the club. I therefore put my boots in a bag and, with heavy heart, decided to call it a day.
But in hindsight that was a poor decision; firstly because fat men need exercise and secondly because a priest should grasp every opportunity to get amongst his people! And so this Saturday I join the Tunbridge Wells Veteran’s side (my days in 1st XV’s is long past) for a tournament at Ashford rugby club. By co-incidence a real ale festival is being held there at the same time (!!), so refreshment will be available. My boots were dusted off yesterday – I am buying a gum shield today. After a full season away from ‘the game for thugs played by gentlemen with funny shaped balls’ I am itching to get back… as testosterone fuelled chaps are prone to say…’bring it on!’
Which one are you in the Emmanuel line up? Or is there a prize for guessing correctly? I think you are 4th from the left as you look at the picture standing in the second row.
spot on!
Reckon so – but where are you in the Homerton line-up??
Do have fun, and with a real ale festival you can’t go wrong. Sadly we only dabbled in it at school (being a girls school), but being built small and, um, stocky, it’s a game I always reckoned I would have enjoyed far more than Netball!
Could this be the reason why you so often talk … balls?
Ex-second row forward.
top trow – fourht from left as you look at it
Your spelling suggests a certain anticipation of those real ales. I, on the other hand, have just consumed – not entirely unaided – Wine Society’s ‘The Society’s’ Bordeaux Sauvignon. Pretty good.
Keep an eye out for any teams from Hythe that make it into the tournament……
lol now, now Ian I trust you are not being naughty!
Was pondering as to why you were lustrating with your left hand, had your biretta on the wrong way round and all the fellas were wearing girls’ blazers. But of course the pic has been flipped. Do I get a prize for observation?!
Good on yer..just remember you’re not as young as u were!!
Just kidding! The blazers are quite manly! No flipping involved!
I remember your days playing for Norwich. There was the occasion when you cycled home having drunk far more ale than was wise. You were stopped by the police, and told to push the bike home. Of course as soon as they left, you got back on again, only to find them waiting round the next corner. “Right young man, you’re coming with us” they said, loading your bike into the back of the estate car. Nervously you awaited your trip to the nick, only to find they brought you home! Fortunately the officer invoved was married to our church school secretary, knew me well, and did the sensible thing – but you were worried for a while!
Naughty naughty! I bet you have never told your congregation that story! Trust parents!
It was the best policing I have known, scared the life out of me whilst delivering me home safely. Old fashioned community policing that re-inforced good behaviour. And every time I saw him after that he would simply wink and make me blush. What dad leaves out is the lecture I gave him about abusing his power because I was convinced you could NOT be arrested drunk in charge of a bicycle. IN fairness we had won the cup and, aged 18, I did not hold my drink well!
I hope you can hold it a little better now Father!
I thought for a moment they were wearing half-colours blazers from my school.
Glad you are not quite ready to hang up your boots yet Fr Ed but do take care – occasional players can be reckless. I hung up my boots in favour of sculls long ago.