The East Terrace - For the rugby football enthusiast

For the love of God, please kick it into touch

8cm Will CarlingBy The Really Unfit Flanker Who Just Played to Help Out His Old Club

Oh my god, it hurts, my lungs hurt, it burns. Please let this ball be kicked into touch, I really need to get my breath back here. Thank god for that. I can just slowly walk to this lineout. Thank goodness I didn’t traipse all the way back for the kick by their fly-half a moment ago. The kick from our fullback has put the lineout near where I already am. Perfect.

How long left ref? Seventy minutes? ****! How on earth am I gonna get through this? Need to use my brain. I may not have the pace anymore but I have the knowledge. Be calm, I’ll be fine.

Man, our backline certainly likes to spin it over to the wings, how am I gonna get to the breakdown before their young flankers? Man, this really…really…hurts….need… air. Great, finally get there and they spin it back the other way. Oh no, our centre may break through. I hope he gets tackled, there is no way I can get to help him in time. Sod this, I’m pretending my ankle hurts, get a breather at least.

Sixty minutes left. At least I have halftime for a breather.

Oh, s***, he’s gone and run it at them. Flip now I have to get there. Idiot!

What! How and, more importantly, why on earth did I intercept that pass from their centre? Flippin’ heck, now I’m gonna have to run. Please let somebody younger and fitter be on my shoulder. Damn, just me! There winger is coming, he’s gonna get me in a few seconds. Hurry up, don’t want to run any further than I already have. OPMMH! God he hits hard! Just lay this ball back and set it up, get some air in my lungs while – ARRRGH! My bloody arm, someone just trod all over it. Next time old Eddie rings up saying they are short of players they can go and stuff themselves.

Right, starting next week I need to get fit. Stop drinking the beer, fewer take-aways, cut out the fags, walk to work and all that. Ladies may even notice the effort in the office. Yeah, life of a pro athlete for me. I wonder if I still have that discount gym flyer from all those years ago?

Feel weak, stars in front of eyes. If I can just make that ruck, maybe I can collapse on the ball and give all of us a breather. Yeah that will do…no, stop…Damn! The little idiot of a scrum-half managed to get the ball out. I hate young people.

Fifty-seven minutes and I’m done. What’s that? Lift in the lineout? Sorry, no lifting in my day. He wants to get the ball so he can bloody well jump. Good enough in my day. What do you mean by shouting all those numbers before the ball comes in the lineout? Look, just chuck the bloody thing. Code? The only code I know is the scrum-half with hands pulling socks for the middle throw and hands on shorts for the front. I don’t do long throws to the back, so don’t even call it to me as I’m not jumping for anything.

Almost at half-time, great. I think I might be sick though. I really am going to join the gym and get fit starting next week. Dig out the old Rocky soundtrack, stick it on my Walkman and I’ll be fit in no time at all.

Ah, a maul, I’ll just lean on this and make some grunting sounds, seem like I am working then. Maybe I can hang here until the break, no-one will notice.

Right, this is the last phase I am hitting this half. When I reach that ruck I’m just gonna dive over the top and bloody stay there. Here goes….

Sadly, The Really Unfit Flanker Who Just Played to Help Out His Old Club was unable to complete his article due to the connection of his head with the boot of an opposing player. As of press time he has not yet joined a gym or cut back on the fatty foods.