I had a long time penny-drop about assumptions over this weekend. Watching rugby at Twickers this weekend at a double header (London Irish v Harlequins and Saracens v London Wasps) with us usual suspects M&M and R&L. Bob is very patient at explaining the rules to me as basically I haven't a clue. This despite playing Rugby at school for several years.
They never explained the rules, never had any "theory" classes. It now occurs to me that the P.E. teacher assumed we knew the rules. My dad knows nothing about sport and cared less. I grew up knowing nothing about any sport and, I have to confess, do not worry about that either. And of course why would they need to explain the rules as everybody knows them.
I didn't, I hadn't a clue. All I had worked out, empirically, was that it was a contact sport and if somebody passed you the ball others tried to knock you over and rub you in the mud. So I reckoned that the best plan was to get shot of the ball as fast as possible.
Now some people had rejection problems when they were not chosen for the team. We had 33 boys in my year which meant two times fifteen and three rejects. Me, I was praying don't pick me, don't pick me. I was happy to be left with the geeky nerd in bottle glasses and the fat wheezy kid. I spent years practicing looking round shouldered and consumptive. Tough when you have the physique of a Greek God <cough, splutter>.
Sa Calobra, a Mallorcan Mountain Meander...
4 months ago