By Broonie
December 14 2005

Looking at a thread about BT reminded me of my favourite lineout last week just after he came on for daddy late on, right in front of terrace B . complicated things these days , lineouts . Bt strides with all the energy and vim of the fresh substitute to no. 2 in the line, but is pushed back to 3 by damo as Mr richmond cleans the ball and surveys the scene, then the call is changed and big damo shuffles off to 6 in the line between an open side and a prop, like a St. Bernard between two corgis, as inconspicuous and nonchalant as you wish.

The stage is set, danny sets into his stance, ball above head, sneers at the assembled multitude, takes a deep breath (and bt's looking good for his first jump in the first team here).

Then blewitt rushes past bt and does a half-hearted little leap at 2, much to the concern of poor ross , who lunges forwards thinking he must have missed the signal , but only just soon enough to catch him as he descends to earth.

Meanwhile, danny seems to have an attack of the sneezes and 6'7" and 21 stone of damo is looking all innocent and inconspicuous still at 6, making like winnie the pooh imitating a small raincloud while hanging from a balloon.

Bt looks increasingly harrassed and frustrated, but turns at the sound of activity behind him - aha! the game's afoot, db2 has in the meantime decided the moment has come to join the natural law party and prances forwards from 5 in the line to levitate gently in the air. at last bt spots the true object of his affections and rushes to clasp him around the thighs in a manly embrace- but again just in time to cushion his descent to terra firma mr. richmond having not yet seen what he wanted and kept hold of the ball.

By this stage, monsignor richmond 's sweatband is dripping and he's beginning to look a tad concerned, as is everyone else , except the french who are about to join their air traffic controllers and ferry pilots on strike for christmas ; all eyes are on the ref, who must surely blow his whistle for delay if only to spare saints from collapsing exhausted.

Damo has given up all attempts at nonchalance and concealment and is now waving his arms like an ostrich trying to mate with a windmill and agitatedly muttering savage imprecations in the erse (that's a language not a body part , btw.). props and flankers are scuttling dementedly around in front of him, weaving past bt and db2 and bumping into each other while the frogs look on perplexed. they know damo wants the ball but they're not sure they want any of him - what if he landed on them after all ? suddenly, without any evidence of a lifter in front of him, the frantic gyrations of big leroy seem to bear fruit.

Before the ref can blow his whistle the massive projectile achieves lift off , it's a tremulous inch at first , then two inches, nearly three,he's almost on tiptoe as the afterburners engage; knowing a get-out-of jail-free card when he sees one , air dan flips it low fast and dirty at the slowly rising mountain of green black & gold . there's obviously some thrust from behind as the mighty vessel finally soars fully a foot in the air and a massive paw snakes up to envelop the ball which is fed back to the girls with a sigh of relief.

Just another day in your sparkly new saints lineout, as bt wipes the sweat from his brow probably wondering if he was supposed to be the one jumping for it after all . only the participants - and maybe not even them - will ever know.