By Perran Pirate
August 19 2016
A Modern Fable (or Fairy Story ) Thanks to Perran Pirate
Once upon a time, there was a little seaside rugby club. And one year they were able to field a team that was to become legendary ( locally, anyway ).
Their special weapon was a front row that consisted of three almost identical blocks of muscle and bone. Three Paver Slabs in fact.
It so happened that that year, the little rugby club was doing quite well in the cup, and so they found themselves playing a much bigger and more famous seaside town club in front of their magnificent concrete grandstand.
They didn’t win of course - they weren’t expected to - but as the three big men of the little club’s front row - wide as they were tall - as they pushed back the pack of the Big Famous Seaside Rugby Club there was heard a sneaky whisper : “ How much do you boys get paid ??? “
Many years later one of their small band of supporters found himself again sitting in that magnificent concrete stand ( by now a little the worse for wear, despite the dedicated attentions of a host of club members ).
He was watching the Famous Seaside Club playing a quite famous English Rugby Club in a league very near to the absolute pinnacle of Rugby in the adjoining country.
And he then decided that while watching the successors of the front row of the not-very-famous seaside club was all very well, being a part this, the very best of his country’s clubs, playing what was very nearly the cream of English rugby, was not to be missed.
He could still watch his local team on Saturdays..
So he told his friends and it came to pass that he gathered a sizeable band of the inhabitants of the little seaside town together to travel a long way to watch the team from the Big Seaside Town. On Sundays. Some of them even bought season tickets like him.
This happy state of affairs continued for many long years, and sometimes he would take a dozen or more with him.
There were trips over the river as well, even across the sea to another Celtic Nation. And to the Capital, just like in the old days of the County Championship.
And all this time there was the promise, and the hope, that one day his team ( the one from the Big Famous Seaside Town ) would be playing in its very own equivalent of the English Rugby Headquarters.
And it would carry the name of the country far and wide, even amongst the very foreign people across the narrow sea.
To be continued.....................