Carpe diem. 'Small but mighty', LCRFC are ready for another game at Barties. It's blustery at the fortress. The dew-covered grass, irradiant in the morning sun, is slippery: a metaphor for Hatfield's devastating step, leaving frenzied opposition defenders in his wake. The bottom end of the pitch, yet to see the sun, is frozen. Jones, like the sun, is late. That blustery wind begins to clear the Co
wley smog, fifteen silhouettes now visible. Shrill, shrieking, the referee's whistle sounds; it's now or never. Turner bellows to Christmas, the ball is knocked-on. Scrum time. Pigeons watch on, the Lincoln forward pack steps up. Drive, 1, 2, 3, 4 is the call. Turn-over ball. Mendis picks up. Unconditional unity, unfettered desire, unbridled commitment. The ball is punted, the arc of its flight a vision of Stevenson rising leisurely at the line-out. 10 minutes to go, team is blowing. Boddingtons the best remedy. Chambers and Bohm, linking bullets...try time. Dunn takes the conversion, nailed it. Clark receives the restart, nonchalantly brushing past the advance. Victory is ours; we did it for college, for Simon. Cuppers glory awaits, a plateau of hope. LCRFC, the club to end all clubs
