Author: Nutta

Back in the mid-1980s – a glorious time of proper lineouts, ridiculous haircuts and crap music – I was a young snapper just starting to play senior rugby in country NSW. I had a coach who was a cliched sheep farmer with an amazing knowledge of the game and a broad drawl that I could tell hundreds of anecdotes about. Well, we had a game come up against the zone champions – they were massive, fast, skilled, undefeated, blah blah blah… we had no form to think we could win, but sure as shite we weren’t going to be beaten…