Chasing a Rugby Dream, Book Two, page 8
‘I really tried, Jim, I nagged and nagged, but they just won’t have it, son,’ his father had told him a few days earlier. ‘All their players are twelve and above, they just said that they wouldn’t allow a ten-year-old to play. It’s the rule of Mr Tompkins, the chairman of Briton Bridge and organiser of the tournament, and he’s a real stickler for doing things right. I’m really sorry. I tried my best.’
Jimmy wasn’t upset – he understood the reasoning behind their decision – but he was incredibly frustrated. As he sat in the sun and watched some of the junior teams warming up, Jimmy knew that, even at his age, his speed and handling ability would have been good enough to play. Disappointed, he leaned back in his deckchair next to his mum. Jonny had been right, Jimmy was going to have to sit and watch his talented big brother. Despite his own personal frustrations and disappointments, he still managed to enjoy watching. And that was mainly because of the brilliance of his big brother.
Jonny was the captain of his school team, Bishopswood, and he stood head and shoulders above everyone else on the pitch. One of the best moments came from a turnover on his own line. The ball was back-heeled to Jonny and he dummied to give a pass inside. Because the opposition were still reorganising their defence after the turnover, Jonny spotted a gap to the right of the spot where the game was restarted and went for it. He was lucky that the gap he went through was between two players that were normally flankers and not backs, but it didn’t really matter. He was gone. It was a length-of-the-field try and Jimmy laughed at both the joy of seeing his brother score such a great try and at his mother next to him, jumping up and down and screaming.
Jonny’s team crushed the opposition from that point on, running in try after try. Then, just about a minute before the end of the game, one of Jonny’s teammates, a centre by the name of Max, went over on his ankle trying to keep his foot in play. Unbeknown to Max, someone had left a can of Coke on the grass which had been knocked on to the edge of the pitch. As he darted around the opposition winger, Max’s foot had come down flush on the can, which ruptured, twisting Max’s ankle as it did. The scream Max gave out was awful, and people initially thought he’d broken it, but after he’d been attended to, the doctor announced that it was just a very bad sprain and no broken bones. But that was Max’s tournament over.
At the end of the game, rather than wait around, Jimmy moaned to his mother that he was hungry, so she gave him money for a hot dog.
As Jimmy walked back to his mum, hoping she’d forget to ask him for her change, he savoured every bite of the hot dog. It was delicious – and made all the better because Mr Francis, who was running the hot dog stall, had given him an extra sausage. ‘It’ll help you develop your muscles,’ he smiled as he forced a second sausage into the bun. There were no complaints from Jimmy.
As Jimmy arrived back at his deckchair, he could see Jonny sitting in it, looking a bit glum.
‘Cheer up,’ said Jimmy between the mouthfuls, ‘you’re through to the next round, you should be smiling.’
‘No point smiling if we can’t play,’ replied Jonny.
‘What are you talking about?’ said Jimmy, looking puzzled.
‘Because Max is injured, they’re short of a player,’ said their mum. ‘Kieron was due to be sub but he hasn’t turned up. Nobody knows why. He might be down with that bug that’s been going around.’
‘And with just six fit players, we’re not allowed to play our second-round game,’ said Jonny, his face a picture of abject disappointment.
‘Yes you can,’ said Jimmy quickly, handing his half-eaten hot dog to his mum. ‘I’ll play.’
‘You can’t, Jim,’ said Jonny. ‘You’re too young. I told you last week, it’s for secondary age groups only.’
‘But this is an emergency, surely they’ll bend the rules. Come on, we won’t know until we ask.’
By now, Jimmy’s grandparents had arrived, annoyed that they had missed the first game because of confusion over the start time. Jimmy’s grandfather listened to his grandsons discussing the situation and then turned to them and said, ‘Well, I’m not going to stand here and pass up the opportunity of watching my two grandsons play in the same team together, that’s for sure. I’m going to speak to Terry Jeffries, he’s the secretary of this club. He owes me a favour or two from way back.’
‘He’s not the organiser though, Gramp,’ said Jonny, still with his face in his boots. ‘Dad told Jimmy that it’s Mr Tompkins – and you know how strict he is about everything. He’s already warned us that nobody from the schools tournament is allowed inside the clubhouse today, it’s adults only. He’s so miserable that he won’t change the rules for Jimmy.’
‘And that’s precisely why I’m going to speak to Terry and not him,’ said Will. ‘“Tomcat” Tompkins will be too busy running the adult tournament anyway, I just saw him on number one pitch when we walked in here. What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him. Leave it with me.’
And with that, their grandfather marched off to find Terry Jeffries. After five paces, he stopped and turned.
‘Oh, and Jonny. Get your brother a jersey. He’s going to need it.’
MAKING UP THE NUMBERS
Will had managed to sort things out, so in the green and gold jersey of Bishopswood for the first time ever, Jimmy lined up on the field. Concerned by Jimmy’s age and size, the coach had put him on the wing. Jimmy looked across to the opposition. They looked big.
Jonny jogged across and spoke quickly to his brother.
‘Look, just stay out wide and concentrate on not letting their wing get past you. This is going to be much quicker than you’re used to. Some of these boys are three years older than you, and whilst it’s touch rugby, don’t be surprised if one or two give you a bit of a bang. I’m here to sort any of that out for you if it happens. Right?’
Instead of thanking his brother, Jimmy just looked at him and replied, ‘Why has he stuck me out here, Jonny? I can’t do anything out on the wing, it’s pointless.’
‘It’s not pointless,’ snapped Jonny. ‘He knows how young you are and wants to protect you.’
‘I don’t need protecting,’ said Jimmy indignantly.
‘Yes, you do,’ said Jonny with a little bit of anger in his voice. ‘Just stay out of trouble, Jim, take things easy and remember – you’re just on here to make up the numbers for us, nothing else.’
And with that, Jonny jogged back to his position in the centre of the back line.
‘Just here to make up the numbers,’ muttered Jimmy to himself. ‘We’ll see about that.’
Even though sevens matches are competed over two halves of seven minutes, in the schools tournament, the halves were reduced to five minutes each. In the first four minutes of Bishopswood’s second-round game, Jimmy literally did just make up the numbers. His team were on top, spending lots of time in the opposition half, but with nothing to show for it. Every time it looked like one of the players would break through, one of the players from Johnstown RFC would manage to touch them. Jonny had been the busiest of Jimmy’s teammates, but every time he was in space and seemed to naturally drift towards Jimmy’s wing, he’d glance across at his younger brother and then instantly switch direction the other way, even if it meant getting touched. He just didn’t want to risk involving Jimmy. Jonny was trying to protect his younger brother, but all he was really doing was frustrating him. With four minutes gone in this game of winner-takes-all touch rugby, Jimmy hadn’t touched anything, not a ball or a player, and he was beginning to stew.
Then, just as Jimmy thought that he was going to see out the half without making any contribution whatsoever, Jonny got touched right in the middle of the pitch, around the halfway line. As the Bishopswood scrum-half rushed forward to take the back heel from Jonny, he decided to break towards Jimmy on the right wing. Jimmy got ready, hoping he’d finally get his touch of the ball.
The Johnstown defender rushed up on the scrum-half quickly. The scrum-half knew he couldn’t risk getting touched as it would have been the sixth touch of the play and would’ve resulted in a turnover, so he quickly passed to his teammate, Joe, who had looped around behind him. The pass wasn’t great and had allowed another defender to rush straight up on Joe. The spectators watching couldn’t be sure if it was panic or brilliance that happened next, but whatever it was, Joe threw a fantastic, long looping pass off his left hand, out to the right wing. To Jimmy.
And Jimmy was ready.
Because the ball was passed in such a loopy fashion, the pace on the pass died on Jimmy as it reached him, and he had to pluck it up from his toes, just an inch or two above the grass. It was a brilliant pick-up. But the other problem of the pace dying on the ball was that it meant Jimmy took it standing still, not moving forward as he’d have liked. Jimmy looked up instantly, assuming his opposite wing would be right up on him. However, for reasons known only to the wing, he had dropped back a few yards and had actually drifted in-field, caught out by the long pass by Joe.
The space ahead of Jimmy down the right wing now opened up in front of him, but instead of sprinting into it, Jimmy veered to his left, towards the winger.
Watching on the touchline, Jimmy’s grandfather shouted out, ‘The space, Jimmy, run into the space, go down the line!’
But Jimmy ignored him and continued running straight at the winger.
Just as he was about to bundle into the winger and obviously be touched, Jimmy sort of jumped into the air, with a hitch kick that looked as if he was considering hurdling the opposition player. This confused the defender, who went low to touch Jimmy around the legs, but as Jimmy landed on the ground following the little jump, he dummied to the left, before sweeping the opposite way, outside of the reach of the despairing dive of the winger.
It then became apparent why Jimmy had initially run inside. He knew that if he had run straight, he’d have been isolated by the covering full back and touched by him, losing possession, because there would have been nobody in support for Jimmy to pass to. What Jimmy’s run in-field had done was give a precious amount of time to allow his teammates to regroup and get closer to him. Jimmy had no intention of going for the try. He was looking to draw the full back and pass inside to a teammate – any teammate – who could get up alongside him.
Following the hitch kick and dummy that had worked so well, Jimmy delivered a burst of speed that drew a gasp from the watching supporters. This time, he did head for the space, back out towards the right touchline. Jonny, realising what was happening, had made a run – unseen by the opposition – directly from where he had been touched just moments before Jimmy got the ball. The angle that Jonny ran at was perfect to receive an inside pass from Jimmy – if Jimmy could see him.
Jimmy had seen him, but so had the opposition defence. In the time that Jimmy had run in-field, a second defender had come across to help his full back out on the wing, so now Jimmy was faced with two defenders before the try line. Sprinting as fast as he could towards the touchline, Jimmy drew the first defender. Just as it looked as if Jimmy would have to be touched or run out of room and into touch, he delivered a repeat of his earlier delicious sidestep. By arching his body away from the grasp of the cover tackler and keeping his foot in play by an inch, he was through. That just left the full back.
The full back rushed up on Jimmy in an effort to deny him the space he needed to attempt a third sidestep. But that didn’t bother Jimmy. Waiting until the very last second, Jimmy drew the full back, making no effort whatsoever to avoid him. Just as the full back’s hands stretched out to touch Jimmy’s green shirt, as calm as you like, Jimmy lobbed an over-arm, overhead pass inside which hung in the air like a half-filled helium balloon. Most people had been watching Jimmy, so had not seen Jonny’s lung-bursting sprint to get on his inside, and just as they assumed that the ball from Jimmy’s pass would bounce safely away, so Jonny met the dropping ball at full speed. He grabbed it without breaking stride. While looking around him and seeing there were no defenders left, he almost stopped running and jogged in under the posts for the first points of the game.
On the sidelines, Will turned to Jimmy’s mother.
‘Did you see that, Cath? Did you see that?! Jimmy took out three defenders all on his own! That was class.’
As Jimmy ran over to congratulate his brother, all the action had happened so quickly that the three Johnstown players were still lying prone on the ground, shaking their heads in disbelief and not really understanding what had just occurred.
‘That was brilliant, Jimmy, brilliant!’ said Jonny, giving Jimmy a congratulatory high five. ‘Great vision.’
Jimmy smiled at his brother, ‘Just making up the numbers, Jonny, that’s me!’
CENTRE STAGE
The rest of the match was a procession.
Buoyed by the confidence of his run at the end of the first half, Jimmy came in off his wing in the second period and basically stole the show. He was so good, that people who were watching the senior games on the other pitches walked across to watch.
He involved himself in almost every play. The try in the last minute of the first half had knocked the stuffing out of Johnstown and Jimmy took full advantage of their despondency.
In just five minutes of rugby, Jimmy scored three tries. The first was made by his brother. It saw Jonny making a typical break from the back-heel, sending his younger brother skipping in under the posts. But the other two were exceptional, individual, efforts that saw Jimmy running in from the halfway line on both occasions, leaving the Johnstown tacklers in his wake, grasping nothing but fresh air.
Jimmy’s performance had been sensational.
At the end, Mr Stanford, the PE teacher from Bishopswood walked over to Jimmy.
‘Well, Jimmy. It might only be September, but I can’t wait until next September to see you up at Bishopswood so that you can join the team for real. It’s going to be a very exciting time for us all.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ replied Jimmy, blushing as usual whenever he had to field a compliment from someone.
Then, just as Mr Stanford and Jimmy were beginning to talk about where Jimmy would play in the next match, the semi-final against Newford Academy School, a boy rushed up to Mr Stanford, wearing full Bishopswood kit, shouting, ‘Sir, sir!’
It was Kieron, the replacement who hadn’t turned up earlier. He wasn’t ill after all.
‘Sir, sir, I’m really sorry, but my dad was late finishing his shift. My mum’s car is in the garage, so she couldn’t drop me here, so I had to wait. I tried ringing but I couldn’t get an answer from anyone, it kept going to answerphone. Am I too late to play?’
Mr Stanford looked at the boy. He hated when players turned up late for training, let alone a match. And in his eyes, turning up late for a tournament was unforgivable, but in fairness, Kieron did seem very sincere in what he was saying.
Before he could say anything, Mr Stanford was joined by Kieron’s dad, who, very apologetically, repeated the story. It was clear that Kieron’s delay was unavoidable. As a result, Mr Stanford was going to be lenient.
‘Okay, okay, I completely understand, these things can’t be helped. Normally, I wouldn’t tolerate lateness like this, but it’s a genuine situation so Kieron can be involved.’
Then, turning to Kieron, he said, ‘Get your boots on lad, you’ll be replacement in the next match.’
‘What?’ exclaimed Kieron’s father in surprise. ‘Replacement? Why replacement? I know you’re one short because of the bug and the injury to young Max Robinson – I just saw him with his dad off to A&E for an X-ray. Why is Kieron a replacement? He should be starting!’
‘Because of Jimmy,’ replied Mr Stanford, calmly. ‘He helped us out when it looked like we’d be withdrawn from the tournament, and frankly, he gave one of the finest sevens rugby performances I’ve ever seen in that second half. He keeps his place, as simple as that. Kieron will get a run if I feel the team needs him.’
‘But, but, he’s not even in the school!’ shouted Kieron’s dad, pointing at Jimmy and struggling to control his temper, ‘and he’s under age, he shouldn’t even be on the field.’
‘And he wouldn’t have been if you’d got your son here on time,’ interrupted Mr Stanford, giving the annoyed parent a withering stare, ‘and I’ll remind you again, if Jimmy hadn’t stepped in, there would be no next match to play. We’d have been out of the tournament.’
Mr Stanford turned away from Kieron’s dad and addressed his squad.
‘Come on boys,’ he called, ‘we need to talk about this semi-final.’
Kieron’s father just watched him and the squad walk away with a rage in his eyes.
Whatever Mr Stanford said to his players before the semi-final against Newford, it worked. The game turned into a rout. But maybe the wisest decision of all was keeping Jimmy in the team.
Mr Stanford changed things, bringing Jimmy in from the wing to play in the fly-half role, taking over from Jonny who was moved inside to scrum-half. The scrum-half, who had played well enough himself, was moved to the wing.
The Joseph boys dominated the match from the very first minute. But as impressive as Jonny was, it was Jimmy who again stole the show. If it was possible, he played even better than he had in the second half of the previous match. He ran past players like they weren’t there, his running as elusive as ever. And, thanks to some outrageous dummies and electrifying pace, he scored all four tries in Bishopswood’s dominating performance: one in the first half when things were tight, three in the second when the space opened up a bit.
The buzz that went around the whole tournament was incredible. Even some of the squad players and replacements from the senior tournament that was taking place at the same time had left their matches to come and watch Jimmy. There was a feeling that something special was taking place.
In the last seconds of the match, Jimmy scored his fourth try, out-sprinting the Newford full back after a perfect chip kick on the sixth touch. There didn’t seem to be any room for the kick, let alone for Jimmy to get to it before the full back, but it was so perfectly weighted and Jimmy’s run so well-timed, that he got there first and dived over in the corner. The roar of the crowd and the applause that followed had to be heard to be believed.
