Finally, your head’s no longer stuck up Al Baxter’s arse, and the wind is whistling over your scrum cap. From no-where, the ball hits you in the chest and you’re off! Galloping full tilt in the direction Berrick keeps bloody kicking it, that distant white line looming. But wait, there’s a last lone defender; the square-jawed, 117kg Angolan mercenary – Danie Rossouw.
You fleetingly glance for support – none there, just some idiots shouting your name behind you. You swerve right, he moves across. You swerve left, he comes back. There’s nothing for it, you’re going to have to lay on him your most outrageous side-step…..
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XLoPeX7bIzI[/youtube]
