Good to see them on the main oval as well!
I know many a boy in lower grades who treasured playing a rare game on the first XV pitch when fixtures allowed.
They always rose to the occasion and played above themselves.
Nice one Joker.
Thanks lads.
It is the practice at Joeys that in the final year, the sports master makes a special effort to get as many yr 12 matches as possible on Number 1. I also believe Kings and Shore do so as well.
Here is a recount of one occasion coming from 2011.
So, on a bright sunny morning, late in the season and with the faint promise of Spring in the air the Joeys boys entered the grandstand sheds as their 1st XV brothers would do later that day. Instead of the usual banter that follows preparation before a game and echoes across a field, these boys were unusually quiet, almost reverential in their preparation. Whispers it seems were the order of the day. No one yelled, no one even joked. The mood was sombre and reflective. The lads knew that today was their ultimate game in cerise and blue. They were going out to play on the legendary field on which the giants of days long past had trod before them.
The coach gathered the boys in a huddle. He could see some doubt behind their eyes. The boys did not want to have stage fright, the did not want to fail in front of the others who had gathered on the benches outside cradling coffees and discarded tracksuit tops. The coach could see that his role now was to only provide a few soothing words.
"Boys, its all going to be ok. Don't let your mates down and run the ball, run the ball, run the ball." To that, the boys huddled briefly, captain said a couple of words and out the door they went.
To their surprise, there assembled were a large number class mates from year 12. They had gathered along the stairs/stand and cheered them on as loudly as it would be for the 1st XV that afternoon. Among them cheering with great volume were members of the triple-stripe team who would later play at 3.15pm. These elite footballers could have easily stayed in bed, rested long, late breakfast, longer shower and then a casual saunter to the Park at 1pm. No these boys got up early, changed into their school uniform, dined with the early bird players in the dawning light, walked with them to the park along the quiet streets of Hunters Hill and even helped with the stretch. Then they took their place in the chorus and cheered their mates onto the field. They also stayed and respectfully clapped the Kings team who also looked equally proud that their final was being played on such hallowed turf.
The game went ahead and you would have never know the match was being played between two 9th XV's. Whether it was the immaculate playing surface, the score board that had their name on it or the sidelines filled with family and mates, but these two teams played like champions. The ball stuck to normally unsure shaky hands, scrums were torrid, back lines ran like the wind and props lifted breakaways into the stratosphere at line-outs. It was a joy. It was beautiful. It was what rugby is about. The joy, that pure, untainted joy of playing with your mates in game that you love.
The result was really a no contest as the Joeys boys did indeed, run, run, run the ball. They were unselfish in their play and were constantly looking to pas that ball one more time to someone new to score. Many boys forever cherish a memory which they can pass onto their sons one day, "I scored a try on that field." It didn't matter if is was 9ths, all that matter that the College gave them that one chance to play on the ground that was held sacred by all past and present students.
At the end of the game, the teams hugged, spoke words of congratulations and clapped each other off with three rosuing cheers that scared the pigeons roosting in the grandstand. The Joeys mums and dads brought forward cold drinks and some welcome hot food to share with the team. The Joeys boys though felt it was not right to celebrate alone, as a true game is always about two teams, not just one. A Joe boy ran to the departing Kings cohort and invited them back to join in. "Stay and celebrate a season all done". Remember of course, they too had finished their rugby service to TKS. And so it was, that at 10.15am one Saturday morning, a group of a "retiring schoolboy" rugby players (with mingling parents) shared a drink, hot chicken wings and laughed the morning away and no one remembered the score. The boys just remember the way they felt.