Touch and go - to the bar

Look at us.  Fine figures of men, one and all.  We were happy, fresh-faced (kind of) and dead keen to impress our WAGs (and children who were hiding in the bushes through embarrassment).

Heck, we even did a bit of warm-up. 

And then, well, some other teams turned up and it all went downhill.

Yes, dear friends, I'm afraid "The Coaches" didn't win Aireborough rugby club's "touch and pass" tournament on Saturday afternoon - knocked out in the semi-finals by a bunch of kids wearing vests. 

 

And I wasn't much use to the cause by then in any case, having had to retire hurt in the very early stages of the third of our five games.  I had a sore hamstring, a sore groin, a sore knee, a sore calf, another sore hamstring and a sore thigh.  In short, I was f*****.  So, total respect to my team-mates who proved they had weathered the years much better than me. 

But I would like to think I more than held my own in the latter part of the afternoon.

Which, some might say, explains why my body is so now easily broken. 

All good fun, but I hereby announce that my rugby playing days are officially and irreversibly at an end.