Six Nations

I took Thomas for a walk yesterday and, after teaching him about canals and locks (“like a lift for boats”), we walked across towards Stanley and came across a couple of teams of kids playing rugby. We hung around and watched until Thomas got bored, and I must confess to a nostalgic lump in my throat.

I would guess these lads were no more than nine or ten, and their efforts were scrappy at best, but it was great to see them running around with abandon, and throwing themselves into tackles with harmless gusto. There was even the one freakish boy, a foot taller and four stones heavier than the rest – the whole objective of his team being to pass to him. Enjoy it while it lasts, big lad, in three years time, these boys will be growth spurting their way through puberty and you’ll just be a fat kid.

Most of the forwards were wearing skull caps though – I’m not sure whether this is mandatory these days, or they are just copying what they see on television. It seemed a bit excessive for the level of skill on display, but I suppose a fractured skull doesn’t take much talent to sustain.

I had forgotten all about this mild diversion until I watched the England – Scotland game on the BBC in the afternoon. It’s the last round of the Six Nations and the title was being decided later in Cardiff, both England and Scotland being out of the running.

I was struck, as I watched England’s forwards constantly turnover Scotland’s ball, that the Scottish pack, when up against the England boys, looked like a bunch of kids. I don’t mean this to sound insulting – the fact that the game finished only 26-12 is testament to how well they played, and particularly defended) against a gang of men who, to the casual observer, looked an average of 20% bigger than their opposite numbers.

Chris Paterson, Scotland’s kicking full-back, is a tiny fella – only twelve and a half stones with wet hair and a pocketful of loose change. He was tackled at one point by Mike Tindall. Tindall may be about to marry into the royal family, and I’m sure he’s a lovely bloke, but he has all the physical characteristics of the big red one out of the Fantastic Four. It just looked like the big kid on the team bullying one of the others.

Just like the kids on the field in Stanley, the Scottish lads had gallons of enthusiasm but made lots of mistakes and, despite having all the right kit, they looked like they weren’t exactly sure of what they were doing. The question is how England’s expensively assembled brutes made them look so good.