Whilst round at a friends house last weekend he received a text from his old rugby club asking if he was free to play that afternoon as they were short. He in turn asked me and a little foolishly I agreed but would need to be kitted out. Now let me add that it is about 15 years since I last played and it was for an old boys team then!
Believing it was for the 4th team we arrived and I then discovered I was playing for the 1sts against a new but tidy side. At the last moment someone else showed up and I managed to relegate myself to sub and running the line. I immediately noticed one fundamental difference between this fine game and others that remains intact. The referee is the law and is still called ‘Sir’. That was and is something I have always loved about rugby – the respect aspect. One of our team was yellow carded just before half time for questioning whether ‘Sir’ needed glasses. Whilst I sympathized with him as he trudged over and got a royal rollicking from the Coach, it made me feel glad that at least somewhere in this often troubled land where respect seems to have leaked out of so many of our finest sports, the rugby referee, often the smallest and oldest person out there (yes he was older than me) still demands and receives absolute respect and control. He had a shocker by the way.
I got a game too, 25 minutes on the wing managed a couple of reasonable tackles even though my first touch was a knock-on I had a great time.
A few beers and pasty later I felt good too.
I had a chat with the ref afterwards. He was 54 and had stopped playing rugby when he was 30 due to injury, after an absence from the game of ten years decided to put something back into a game he loved. I asked him what he thought of being a referee and he said, ‘I love it, keeps me fit and everyone treats me with respect and I have got quite good at it now.’ Well I didn’t dare tell him…..not sir.
Fynal