Why do I do it?

By Citizen Slacker
August 3 2011

Strangely, this is not directly about the Falcons, despite the title. I have confession to make, nothing that would put my mortal soul in danger, but I expect to get a few funny looks once this is read.

Before that though, ask yourself this, why do you follow the fortunes (or famine) of the Falcons? Is it the style of rugby, the atmosphere of the games, a chance to unwind, yell, sing, shout & generally vent your emotions in a way that you can not in normal society?

Is it the camaraderie of the terraces, not just fellow Falcons fans, but the other supporters we meet on the road & on their travels? The ability to meet the players? Why did you start attending games?

The first game I came to see was a cup match against London Irish, it snowed through much of the game meaning that if you didn’t slip over because the porta-cabin loos were on the wonk, you did because you slipped on the floor.

I went because I wanted to watch a game of rugby, as I hadn’t done so since leaving Uni. I hadn’t played a game in almost 15 years, but stood on the slippery bank where the South Stand now sits, the smell of grass & mud, the sound of big men making big tackles took me back to being a child, the comfort of being part of a club, watching a game being played.

As I recall, the Falcons lost, but I was hooked enough to come back.

Something else clicked in my head that day too. I eventually quit smoking & returned to playing after a 17 year gap between games.

Back in my old position of hooker (occasionally the world’s slowest wing, but I tend to scare other wingers at the first ruck) I’m back in a club, playing the game I love. Part of that is the physical exercise, the blood, sweat & cheers that goes hand in hand with playing. Part of it is being back in a club where I’m on first name terms with just about everybody else. Much of it is the understanding between players that what goes on on the pitch stops at the final whistle & having a chat with your oppo’ in the bar.

The bumps & bruises took a little while to get back into, likewise a couple of concussions too many have meant the purchase of a scrum cap, but it is good to be back.

So, to the confession. I have never scored a try in a competitive game. There, I said it. I’ve scored plenty in training, I even managed two during the beach rugby tournament at Whitley Bay last year (both disallowed by an unsighted, officious ref, but I’ll take the moral victory), but never during a competitive game.

Indeed, I can even only admit to coming close on three occasions, once at schoolboy level I had been in a maul that had driven to within a yard of the try line & all we needed was an extra shove & I could have fallen on the ball, when our prodigious scrum half took the ball from me & scampered over. The other’s not even that interesting, which takes me back to the original point, why do I do it?

With the majority of Falcons’ games on a Friday I don’t drink at them anymore, the body just doesn’t function as well on a Saturday, especially after a skin full. The effort given to playing often means I’m not fit for much on Saturday night, especially the odd occasion where I’ve taken a knock to the noggin. A couple of fractured ribs, both little fingers broken, a huge black eye the night before I chaired my first child protection conference, & my last broken nose during training at the end of last season, meaning for a week I looked like a Neanderthal, all that & not even a try to my name.

Why do I do it? Because I love it. The game, the contest, the friends made, the hits made, the chance to be part of something bigger than just me.

So I’ll be back in the gym this week ready for the upcoming season, & back on the South Stand come the game against Bath. We may not win, we may not score many tries, but is that all there is?