Lamenting at a trying time.

I’m not that safe under high balls. 

Maybe 60/40. 

It was raining too - which further alters the odds of me dropping the ball. 

Let’s say 40/60.

As the ball came down through the floodlights I did what I used to tell my players to do when I coached them - read the writing on the ball. Somehow, it sharpens your acuity and you focus that little bit more on the catch.

I looked for the S in Steeden and caught it clean before instinctively setting off to my left because the defence on that side were slower to chase. I isolated the the 4th defender from the left and immediately stepped out again to engage the 3rd before passing on to Ed to give him a bit more space and time.

He’s 30 years younger than me and was in a better place to turn this into something.

He got defender 2 interested in exactly the same way. I kind of knew he would. 

I also know that he’s a passer more than a runner - so he’d take the line on just enough and then ship the ball out wide again.

With my heart rate already high, I decided to make the extra effort and loop around him. Ed shipped on to another player - I can’t remember who, it was a blur. I continued to loop around just as the winger engaged him and just in time for me to catch his pass in open space 30m from the try line.

Here we go.

I used to be quick when i was Ed’s age. But pushing 50 I have to rely on quick wits now. Still, I pumped my legs as hard as I could and in the next 20m attracted 4 defenders who were tracing back on my right. 

There was no way I was going to make it to the line.

I slowed slightly, dropped my right elbow and looked back inside. 

I knew what was going to happen. Ed would be there. All I had to do was find him amongst the onrush of defenders. I let them get closer and then floated a looping pass between them a metre or so in front of him without really knowing exactly where he was.

On any other wet Monday it’d have gone to ground.

Plenty of other passes did that night. 

But not this one.

He accelerated on to the ball, curved back from the left wing towards the centre of the field, put the hammer down and scored. The nearest defender was 20m away by the time he reached the line.

It was a perfect try. Straight from the kick off. No more than 12 seconds in all.

The extra effort to loop around and attract the defence had my heart beating fast. But if I’d have been tipped over the edge into cardiac arrest, I’d have died with a smile on my face.

The feeling of putting your son over for a try takes some beating. 

Especially when it was his cameo appearance the week before he goes away to University. And, especially as he only really came to my weekly touch rugby session of middle-aged men to please me. One last time.

I’d only really started playing touch rugby when I’d started coaching his team 11 years ago. Trying to educate kids to play when you no longer run around yourself felt a bit hypocritical - so I started playing once or twice a week. 

It’s probably added 10 years to my life. Plus, playing team sport as you get older is a great mental health shield. When you see 60 year old men running until their lungs burst to save a try that doesn’t really matter you realise that team sport brings benefits way beyond pure fitness. 

People talk of having something to get out of bed for. For me and the guys I play with, this goes a step further - something to get your boots on for. 

Something to blow off the cobwebs.

I coached them Ed and his team mates for 7 or 8 years in all and it gave me an intimate knowledge for how each of them played. 

When we walked off the filed for a final time, we reflected on how weird it was that we knew exactly what each other was going to do. But it wasn’t that weird. We’d spent 300+ training sessions together. We had the same rugby mentality. A joint understanding.

We hugged after the game and shared text messages later that evening.  We agreed that it was a great way to sign-off on our short rugby careers.

On Monday I drop him off at Uni. The end of an era.  The end of the beginning.

I really hope we play touch rugby together again some time.  But in a way, I’m happy with that sign-off and am just as happy if we don’t.

Lament with a huge grin on your face is a lovely feeling.

Good luck at Uni Ed.