Chasing a Rugby Dream, Book Two, page 21
HANDS DOWN!
On the field, Jimmy had no thoughts for anything but the ball.
His tackle had indeed been textbook, and so was what happened next.
His momentum had not just stopped the Brookdale full back, it had driven him back and dumped him on his backside. Fair play to the full back, he hadn’t spilled the ball, he had somehow managed to hold on to it, despite the force of Jimmy’s tackle. How he did was a mystery, because the impact of the hit was enough to shake a ball loose from the strongest of grips, but as he landed on the floor, he now had no option. He had to let go of the ball.
‘Release, release!’ came the call from the referee, instructing both Jimmy and the full back to let go of the player and ball respectively.
Jimmy’s senses were so alert now, he was the first to react. He didn’t wallow in the glory of his tackle, no matter how satisfying it was to him. Instead, he sprung instantly to his feet. Then, he quickly stepped over his stricken opponent, and reached down for the unguarded ball. In a flash, Jimmy gathered it and sprinted towards the posts. From his left-hand side, Jimmy could see the Brookdale Primary right wing hurtling towards him, covering like all good wingers should.
Jimmy looked at the distance between him and the goal line. It was going to be close. As he lengthened his stride for the line, he just sensed that the exertions of the last fifteen or so seconds were catching up with him. He drove and pumped his legs as quickly as he could, but with ten metres to go, he sensed his legs tightening up. He glanced across to the winger who was now moving much quicker than Jimmy. Jimmy knew that the smart option was to run towards his right-hand corner, to lengthen the distance that the winger would have to run. But that would lengthen it for Jimmy too. He wasn’t sure he was going to make it. So he did what nobody would have expected him to do. He veered left, straight into the path of the covering winger. Just as the winger was about to make his tackle, five metres short of the line, which would have no doubt prevented the try, Jimmy switched the ball from being cradled under his left arm, to his right.
At the very moment that the winger threw his body towards Jimmy for the tackle, Jimmy thrust out his left hand and arm like a steel pole. He pushed his arm into the throat area of the winger with all his power and delivered the most amazing hand off which stopped the winger in his tracks. Stumbling slightly after the effort of the sprint and hand-off, Jimmy just managed to fall over the line for the try.
The crowd went wild.
They had seen the most amazing example of rugby bravery anyone could ever wish to see from a player so young. To actually create a tackle situation like Jimmy had done, and to then put in such an incredibly powerful hit, collect the ball then deliver the most robust of hand-offs was simply immense. Everyone was clapping.
The referee’s whistle rang out.
But not to award the try.
‘No try, no try. Hand-offs not allowed in Under 11 rugby. Penalty to Brookdale.’
‘What?’ shouted Will from the touchline. ‘No hand-offs? This is supposed to be rugby, isn’t it?’
Mr Davies the Headmaster was sitting behind his old friend.
‘They’re not allowed, Will. You can only do them in Under 12 rugby, and then chest only. The referee is correct.’
Will sighed. ‘Rules. Pah! They’ve stopped a perfectly good try.’
‘I don’t think Jimmy is worried by that, Will, look at him.’
Jimmy ran back to his position with a smile as wide as Ellis Genge after winning one against the head, punching the air in celebration. Anyone would swear that he had scored a try, but he was celebrating something far more important to him.
He would never worry about making a tackle in his rugby career ever again. The impact of the tackle – both physically and mentally – ensured that ghost had been laid to rest for good.
ARM WRESTLING
The rest of the half was played out with no scores. Both teams were very strong, but it was a game of defences and there was no better defender on show than Jimmy. He literally tackled anything that moved.
He tackled forwards, he tackled backs, he tackled on the wing, he tackled in midfield. In fact, due to one mix up in the positioning of the referee at a ruck, Jimmy even tackled him, much to the amusement of the crowd, and his own players.
‘Flipping ’eck, Jimmy boy,’ said Ryan, ‘you couldn’t tackle a hot dinner three weeks ago, now you’re splattering the officials.’
Everyone was still laughing at that one at half time.
One person not laughing was Mrs John. She was concerned.
‘Right. You’re allowing them to drag you into an arm wrestle. That’s what they want. But you are so much better than them with ball in hand. Look for space, don’t always take the contact. This game is going to be settled by just one try I think, it’s that close. Let’s make sure we’re the team that gets that try.’
She turned to Jimmy.
‘Well, aren’t you the one full of surprises?’
Jimmy laughed.
She moved closer so that only he could hear what she had to say.
‘Jimmy, I think it’s fantastic that you’ve proved everyone wrong about your tackling. It’s been inspirational to watch. You’ve put in more tackles than Courtney Lawes!’
Jimmy smiled. That’s not an accolade he ever expected to hear when he was running around her garden thinking of ways to avoid contact with her husband just a few short weeks ago.
‘But you’re taking on too much contact now. I know you probably feel like you want to hit everyone in both defence and attack, but don’t forget what brought you to the attention of the Eagles last year. I had a long chat with Kevin and Peter Clement a couple of weeks ago, and Peter said how much he hoped you could sort out your tackling problems, because going forward, you’re untouchable.’
Jimmy blushed at such praise.
‘But in that half, you were anything but untouchable. You took contact every single time you carried the ball. Remember that touch rugby tournament you played? Remember the way you play with your friends on The Rec? I’ve seen you. They call you “The Ghost” don’t they?’
Jimmy laughed. ‘Some do, yes, Miss.’
‘Well, let’s see The Ghost this half. You’ve been like a hammer up to now, not a ghost! Tackle when you have to, but find space when you can. And run, Jimmy. Nobody can run like you.’
The referee’s whistle blew to call the teams together for the second half. The last words from Mrs John were ringing in everyone’s ears. ‘Don’t forget. Nobody has ever retained the Cluster Cup. Ever. Go out and take your chance to make history.’
As Central jogged back onto the field, Matt joined Jimmy and Kitty as they talked about ways to bring Kitty into the game because she’d hardly seen the ball. Matt interrupted them.
‘I’ve just seen Manu. He’s okay, but has a massive headache. I think we need to win this for him. What do you think?’
Jimmy looked at his two oldest friends. None of them said a word. The steely look in their eyes was enough.
The first ten minutes of the second half were a carbon copy of the first. Pure attritional rugby. Brookdale Primary had a distinct way of playing, and that was keeping it tight. The ball was hardly ever thrown out to their back line, it was just driven on and on until, at some point, their discipline failed them and they lost the ball. In the few times Jimmy had possession, he had no space in which to operate, so instead of taking the contact, as Mrs John had urged him not to do, he kicked.
The trouble was, Brookdale then regained possession and simply drove the ball back and the grind would begin again.
The crowd all knew that no team had ever retained the cup. They also knew there had never been a nil-nil draw.
With five minutes to go, it seemed that a nil-nil draw was going to be the only outcome. Every time Central tried something creative, it was smothered and Jimmy’s kicks, as good as they were, led to nothing. The Brookdale approach didn’t alter, but Central’s defence was heroic.
Despite the clock running down fast, Jimmy hadn’t given up hope. He just wanted that one chance, that one moment to show what he could do with the ball in his hands. The question was, would the opportunity come?
With just two minutes left, Jimmy got his answer.
Matt had secured a ball from the base of a Central scrum. Jimmy called for the ball. Even though they were deep in their own half, Jimmy sensed that there was a gap between his opposite fly-half and the inside centre. A pass now and Jimmy would be off. But probably because he’d been dragged into the kicking game that Brookdale had adopted, Matt decided to box kick.
It wasn’t the option that Jimmy would have chosen, but it was a good kick – long, high and deep into the Brookdale half.
There was no surprise at what happened next. The Brookdale full back gathered the kick, steadied himself, then drilled the ball back into the Central half. He had hoped to kick it long, but he didn’t connect with his kick perfectly and, instead, the ball screwed in-field to where the Central forwards were gathered.
Running slightly sideways and backwards, Central’s giant lock, Andrew Beasley, took the ball cleanly. Jimmy hoped Andrew would pass the ball out to him quickly. However, again, the big lock forward was drawn into thinking defensively, so inexplicably, went to ground, followed by his forwards. This gave time for a few of the Brookdale players to arrive, forming a ruck.
Jimmy had seen enough.
As the ball emerged on the Central side, Jimmy screamed as loudly as he had ever screamed to Matt, ‘Pass, pass!’
Almost without looking up, Matt fired a pass, instinctively knowing where Jimmy would be. The speed of that pass made all the difference.
Jimmy was onto it like a flash.
His angle of running took him straight towards the on-rushing defensive line. Immediately, Jimmy passed to his left, to his inside centre. The whole Brookdale defensive line moved to follow the ball. But the ball had never left Jimmy’s hands, it was the most outrageous dummy of all time.
The dummy had bought Jimmy the one thing he needed. Space. He glided through the gap he had created between the opposition fly-half and centre, just like the ghost that Mike had rapped about back in the summer. Jimmy was finally living up to his nickname. And then he was off, like Usain Bolt on the sound of the starter’s gun. Jimmy’s legs ate up the ground as he ran into space, crossing the halfway line, into the Brookdale half of the field.
Jimmy made seven huge strides at great speed, but then, to his right, the Brookdale scrum-half came for him. Incredibly quick over the first ten metres, it seemed that Jimmy’s burst for freedom would be over before it had begun, but Jimmy had seen him. Switching the ball to his left hand, Jimmy swerved his hips, just as the scrum-half scragged the corner of his shorts. Jimmy swung his free right arm down, brushing away the desperate challenge. For a split second, Jimmy was worried that the referee might have seen his action as a hand-off, but the call of, ‘Play on, play on!’ from the official was music to Jimmy’s ears.
And play on Jimmy did.
Free from the clutches of the scrum-half, Jimmy changed his angle of running again and also swapped the ball back to his right hand. Now he was heading from the middle to the right side of the field and into more space.
He looked up and saw the full back. The player who had played his part in helping Jimmy come back from the rugby dead was the next obstacle to overcome.
Six, eight, ten strides, Jimmy was gathering pace, as was the full back who was lining Jimmy up.
Jimmy knew what the full back was doing. He was watching Jimmy’s feet like a hawk, he wanted to get close to Jimmy, into his one metre circle to bring him down. At full speed, Jimmy waited for the full back to commit to the tackle. He watched as the full back lowered his body angle to begin the tackle, and at that precise moment, Jimmy threw all his weight onto his right leg, which had the effect of almost standing Jimmy’s body up and slowing him down just enough so that the full back was not close enough to make an effective tackle. Jimmy brushed off the, now, weak attempt from the full back and hurtled again towards the right corner of the field.
However, that slight step had slowed Jimmy’s momentum just enough to allow one of the Brookdale forwards the time to desperately dive at Jimmy’s feet, to try and pull off a last ditch tap tackle. But Jimmy’s awareness was second to none and as the forward made the despairing dive, he managed to pull off a little hop into the air, which meant that the tap attempt from the forward went clean beneath Jimmy’s right boot.
All that was left now was the wingers. Jimmy could see their left winger was coming like a bullet from his right, but could also hear Brookdale’s right winger coming from his blind side. Jimmy’s instinct was that the winger coming from his left side was closer, so he had no option. He gambled that his pace in a straight line would take him to the whitewash, quicker than the left wing would get there.
Jimmy gave everything in those last five strides and sprinted faster and more effectively than he had ever done – he was in full Beauden Barrett mode. When he was a yard short of the line, Jimmy felt the arms of the desperate winger finally catch him from behind, just as the winger from his right arrived on the scene, but using every ounce of strength he possessed and straining every sinew, Jimmy threw himself forward to the line. As he did, the momentum of the right winger’s tackle spun Jimmy around and his body took the legs from under the left winger. All three of the players slid over the line together. Jimmy was enveloped by the right winger who in turn had the left winger lying over the top of him, desperately trying to get his hands under the ball to prevent Jimmy grounding it.
Nobody in the crowd could tell what had happened.
But the referee knew. Perfectly positioned, he blew his whistle, loudly, pointing to the ground under Jimmy’s body.
‘Ball clearly grounded, while under the full control of the attacking player. Try for red.’
The crowd went wild.
So did the Central players . . . Jimmy was mobbed.
The first one there was Kitty, obviously, who quickly pulled the two distraught Brookdale players off her friend, to reveal Jimmy, face down, clasping the ball tight to his chest, almost up around his throat. Before Kitty could even say a word, she was knocked over on top of Jimmy by Matt who was screaming like a banshee. He was quickly followed by big Andrew Beasley and several of the other Central players. It was a classic pile on.
The only one who didn’t join in was Ryan. On seeing the referee awarding the try, he ran straight to Mrs John, screaming and shouting, ‘He did it, Jimmy blinking well did it!’ When he arrived he jumped straight into Mrs John’s arms. Kevin said later that it was one of the biggest hits his wife had ever taken in her whole rugby career.
The referee stepped in to usher the Central players back to their own half. Jimmy picked up the ball and was hauled to his feet by Matt.
‘Fantastic Jimmy, that was just fantastic!’
Jimmy smiled. He was so glad to be back on good terms with his friend.
Then Matt moved his head in very close to Jimmy’s as they walked with the referee to where Jimmy would attempt the conversion.
‘Take your time with the kick, Jim,’ Matt whispered, ‘we don’t want the game restarted to give them a chance to score and draw level. Take your time.’
Jimmy nodded.
As Jimmy reached his mark for the conversion, he asked the referee how long was left.
‘Long enough for you to kick this and me to restart the game.’
Jimmy smiled to himself, the referee had seen through Matt’s plan.
Oscar ran onto the pitch carrying Jimmy’s kicking tee. Jimmy had asked him before the game if he’d look after it for him and bring it on to him if he needed it.
‘Just wait behind me, Oscar. Once I’ve kicked this, you can take the tee back off again.’
‘I will,’ said Oscar. ‘My mum’s going to take a photo to put in our book . . . so make sure you get this.’
‘With my stat man here, I’m sure I will,’ said Jimmy with a wink.
Now that there was no need to draw the kick out, Jimmy took the kick quickly. He couldn’t really miss, he was right in front of the posts. But in Jimmy’s haste, he didn’t notice the piece of loose turf at the left side of his kicking tee, just where he would plant his standing leg.
He lined the ball up with the posts as normal, then in his best Owen Farrell way, approached the ball and struck it. But as his right foot connected with the ball, his left one gave way on the loose turf and Jimmy slipped. The result? The ball dived to the left and smashed straight into the upright. Jimmy had missed the extra two points.
‘Oh, no!’ shouted Jimmy.
‘That’s a miss,’ said Oscar. ‘That won’t look good in the book.’
But Jimmy was already sprinting away from his friend to take his position. There was one final play to defend.
THE END GAME
According to the rules of Under 11 rugby, Jimmy had to take a drop-kick to restart the game, giving possession straight back to Brookdale. He knew that the next time the ball went dead the game would be over. He had to just make sure that the ball didn’t go dead with Brookdale having scored a try. Because if that happened and Brookdale got the conversion from in front of the posts, Central would have lost 7–5. There would be no time for a restart. This was the final play.
Jimmy didn’t know whether it was best to try and put his kick as deep as possible, or at an angle, to try and bring the touchline into play which would act as an extra defender. He knew that option was risky as it might mean the ball being kicked straight out, which would give Brookdale a restart in the centre of the field. He also knew though, that the Brookdale full back was seriously good under the high ball, and would run it straight back, so maybe that was an even riskier option.
The referee blew and Jimmy went for broke. He put his drop kick as high and as deep as he dared to the left-hand touch line. As it was in the air, Jimmy’s grandfather said, ‘He’s struck that well, this is going to be close.’
