Ode to a Tighthead Prop
Author unknown
It was midway through the
season
we were just outside the four
and although I know we won it
I can't recall the score.
But there's one thing I
remember
and to me it says a lot
about the men who front the
scrum -
the men we call "the
props".
We won a lineout near half
way
the backs went on a run
the flankers quickly ripped
the ball
and second phase was won.
Another back then crashed it
up
and drove towards the line
another maul was duly set
to attack it one more time.
The forwards pushed and
rolled that maul
They got the tough set the ball
up to a tee
the last man in played tight
head prop
and wore the number
"3"
The ball was pushed in to his
hands
he held it like a beer
then simply dropped to score
the try -
his first in 15 years.
Then later, once the game was
done
he sat amidst his team
he led the song and called
himself
the try scoring machine.
But it wasn't till the night
wore on
that the truth was finally
told
just two beers in, he'd
scored the try
and also kicked the goal.
At 6 o'clock the try was
scored
by barging through their pack
he carried two men as he
scored
while stepping 'round a back.
By seven he'd run twenty
yards
out sprinting their quick men
then beat the last line of defence
with a "Jonah Lomu" fend.
By eight he'd run from near
half way
and thrown a cut out pass
then looped around and run
again
no-one was in his class.
By nine he'd run from end to
end
his teammates stood in awe
he chipped and caught it on
the full
then swan dived as he scored.
By ten he'd drunk a dozen
beers
but still his eyes did
glisten
as he told the story of
"that try"
to anyone who'd listen.
His chest filled up, as he
spoke,
his voice was filled with
pride
he felt for sure he would be
named
the captain of that side.
By nights end he was by
himself
still talking on his own
the club was shut, the lights
were out
his mates had all gone home.
And that's why I love my
front row -
they simply never stop
and why I always lend an ear
when a try's scored by a prop