Memories of an Old Boy

The recent exciting, controversial rugby series between the South African Springboks and the British and Irish Lions drew my memory back to my own rugby days at the High School when the bus fare to school from Barnhill was one old penny.

We started playing rugby in Form 1 of the Senior School under the watchful eye of Dallas Allardice, the Sports and Gym Master, who had played for Scotland in his younger days. As was customary there was an influx of new pupils in Form 1 and we, for our rugby, were blessed by the arrival of Richard Lawson from Kirriemuir Way and Clive Rubens from Carnoustie.

Richard was large for his age and I mean head shoulder and nearly WAIST above everyone else. He was also a fast runner with a high knee action, all of which made tackling him somewhat difficult. “Lofty”, as he was quickly nicknamed, was unbeatable in the line out and at penalties. We took short ones and “give the ball to Lofty”. Even from our own 25 he took the ball and raced up field shedding off tacklers like a bull and scoring endless tries.

One Saturday we played Morgan Academy at their ground off Forfar Road. Bit of a needle match as three ex-Morgan pupils were now in our team: Doug Cruickshank, Mike Cowan and Pete Brown. Soon we won a penalty, and the ball was duly fed to Lofty and off he ran. After brushing off about five tacklers, one man stood between him and the try line (a lad called Imrie). He waited and on Lofty’s arrival did some judo like movements and to our disbelief, Lofty was on the ground in a heap. Yes, our secret weapon had now been countered. Another penalty came and on seeing Imrie approach Lofty wisely kicked for touch.

Those were the days in which you had to jump at the lineout not to be lifted. The scrum settled immediately without a minute of choreography - as now required - before the ball is inserted at any angle. If you were a tad tired in the second half, you were not substituted but got a withering look and caustic word or two from Dallas. We also managed to play a full 80 minutes with just half an orange, if you were lucky, at half time and seemed to live through it. The referee being fully in charge, not beholden to some off pitch man taking five minutes to replay action and then not avoiding controversy with his decision, resulted in a fluid game.

Clive was a superlative tackler and always round the ankles. One game he raced across from his wing to the other and took down this big lad some five metres from our line with an amazing tackle as he took off some four metres from the lad. We all clapped, and the referee joined in as well.

I remember going one winter to play Morrison Academy in Crieff. The bus left the school gates at 8am sharp. On travelling, the weather got duller and bleaker with snow starting to fall at Longforgan and all the way through Perth to Crieff. On arriving the accompanying teacher, I think it was Joe Jacuk, and his counterpart agreed that as we had travelled so far it would be better to play the game. So off we went in the snow and wind. After about 20 minutes they passed the ball out to their winger who set off at pace, he avoided a purposeful covering tackle from our hooker Doug Abbott, side stepped our fullback Ronald “Dot” Duncan and ran on to touch over the white line. The referee blew for a 25 yard drop out. The snow had covered the try line but not the dead ball line which had confused the winger! Poor lad burst into tears but after a conciliatory tap on the shoulders from his captain pulled himself together and played on.

So these “lessons” on the pitch highlight the importance of sport as you grow up. It teaches you that life is not a bed of roses. Rough, seemingly unfair, as well as smooth times will come your way, you just have to get up, shake yourself off and move on. Also, good leadership ends in results not confusion and is essential to progress in any walk of life.

Roger ‘Ferret’ S. Milne, Class of 1966