I wrote this poem myself for our new member Safolk

Forum » Rugby » I wrote this poem myself for our new member Safolk

Jun 10, 2024, 12:16

When the battle scars have faded
And the truth becomes a lie
And the weekend smell of liniment
Could almost make you cry.

When the last rucks well behind you
And the man that ran now walks
It doesn't matter who you are
The mirror sometimes talks

Have a good hard look old son!
The melons not that great
The snoz that takes a sharp turn sideways
Used to be dead straight

You're an advert for arthritis
You're a thoroughbred gone lame
Then you ask yourself the question
Why the hell you played the game?

Was there logic in the head knocks?
In the corks and in the cuts?
Did common sense get pushed aside?
By manliness and guts?

Do you sometimes sit and wonder
Why your time would often pass
In a tangled mess of bodies
With your head up someones arse?

With a thumb hooked up your nostril
Scratching gently on your brain
And an overgrown Neanderthal
Rejoicing in your pain!

Mate - you must recall the jersey
That was shredded into rags
Then the soothing sting of Dettol
On a back engraved with tags!

It's almost worth admitting
Though with some degree of shame
That your wife was right in asking
Why the hell you played the game?

Why you'd always rock home legless
Like a cow on roller skates
After drinking at the clubhouse
With your low down drunken mates

Then you'd wake up - check your wallet
Not a solitary coin
Drink Berocca by the bucket
Throw an ice pack on your groin

Copping Sunday morning sermons
About boozers being losers
While you limped like Quazimoto
With a half a thousand bruises!

Yes - an urge to hug the porcelain
And curse sambuccas name
Would always pose the question
Why the hell you played the game!

And yet with every wound re-opened
As you grimly reminisce it
Comes the most compelling feeling yet
God, you bloody miss it!

From the first time that you laced a boot
And tightened every stud
That virus known as rugby
Has been living in your blood

When you dreamt it when you played it
All the rest took second fiddle
Now you're standing on the sideline
But your hearts still in the middle

And no matter where you travel
You can take it as expected
There will always be a breed of people
Hopelessly infected

If there's a teammate, then you'll find him
Like a gravitating force
With a common understanding
And a beer or three, of course

And as you stand there telling lies
Like it was yesterday old friend
You'll know that if you had the chance
You'd do it all again

You see - that's the thing with rugby
It will always be the same
And that, I guarantee
Is why the hell you played the game!!

Jun 10, 2024, 12:50


The poem you provided is authored by Rupert McCall and is titled "Why We Play the Game." It is a well-known ode to rugby, exploring the physical and emotional impact of the sport on its players, reflecting on injuries, memories, and the enduring love for the game despite the pain. This poem has been widely shared and appreciated within the rugby community, highlighting the camaraderie and the rugged charm of rugby.

For further details on McCall's poetry and other related topics, you might want to check websites like Rugby Dump or other sports poetry forums that feature his works????.

Jun 10, 2024, 13:02

He was obviously being sarcastic when he said he wrote it himself.

My word the Ruckers regulars are slow.

Jun 10, 2024, 13:09

ButtPlug, it was double bluffing sarcasm. Only you would be incapable of not seeing this.

Of course, I realise that Chippo (Aka Gareth Thomas) could never produce anything resembling poetry. 

Jun 10, 2024, 13:46

Chip do you know Suffolk’s mother as well?

Jun 10, 2024, 14:04

Chip knows everyone’s mothers ! 

Jun 10, 2024, 14:40

And Rupert McCall based his poem on the Omen, It immediately had familiar rhythm and rhyme:

When the Jews return to Zion
and a comet rips the sky,
and the Holy Roman Empire rises;
then you and I must die.

From the eternal sea he rises,
creating armies on either shore,
turning man against his brother,
’til man exists no more.

? The Omen, 1976
The Biblical poem by Father Brennan about the Antichrist’s birth and rise to power


Is this an attempt to call Dave the Beast?

Jun 10, 2024, 14:55

Oh he is a beast, Mozart :) 

Jun 10, 2024, 15:03

Sexy beast hey Becs?

Jun 10, 2024, 15:22

Oh yeah. 

Jun 10, 2024, 15:34

He was obviously being sarcastic when he said he wrote it himself.

My word the Ruckers regulars are slow.

To me it's obvious that Chippo has to be Rupert.

Jun 10, 2024, 17:57

 Sexy Beast is better than Egg Yolk….but a bit of a reach.

Jun 10, 2024, 18:49


Jun 10, 2024, 18:57

Oh you’d be surprised, Mozart ;) 

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