Back when I played we used to call the low numbers ‘donkeys’ and they referred to us as ‘the girls in the backs’.
We thought the forwards were all a bit thick – although I for one would never have said it out loud or within earshot. So they were certainly right to think that I was a bit of a nancy.
Our view that they weren’t always right in the brain department was confirmed after one game in the changing room.
We’d lost by quite a few when I heard one of our props informing the rest of us that we won by 3-1.
Being somewhat curious I stupidly asked how he made that out.
“We took three against the head” he beamed as if I was a moron. Patently the actual points scored were an irrelevance to the front row
I won’t tell you who it was, although he was called ‘Doggy’ and you can look him up in the post on nicknames.
The point of all this mindless reminiscing is that I have garnered a new found respect for those in the pack. This has nothing to do with my inherent cowardice but in regard to a piece in a newspaper at the weekend which gave a clue as to how lineout calls are designed –
Anyone who can make head or tail of that lot deserves to be aligned with Einstein and Stephen Hawking in my view.
I got lost before the end on number 2.