My own rugby "career" kind of petered out when I got to university due to indolence and crappy arthritis ridden joints have meant I've long given thoughts of playing again. That's still a source of disappointment to em. As a schoolboy I played as hooker, unlikely as that seems, and we enjoyed a fantastic run. We arrived one winter's night at the Norwich Rugby Club ground, to contest the final of the Norfolk Under-16s Rugby schools cup (or something like that anyway) almost without realising. Up to that point we'd never been in any danger of losing, not because the teams we'd played had been especially bad, but because we really were pretty good. Not unnaturally, we were pretty teed up for the game, and we had a lot of support especially from the other school teams. At one point a girl (I forget who) shouted, as enjoyed my sole moment of running rugby, "Come On Higgy, you're wearing my shirt". I don't know if the school really was so poor that the girl hockey team shared shirts with boys football and rugby, but I wouldn't be surprised.

Anyway, we lost. We went behind early on, and sort of fell apart in the second half. I still remember the feeling coming off park at the end of that game. It's why I always, win or lose, cry like a baby at the end of important games like today's against Ireland.