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The attack coach
“But we honed this
Everyone in his lane
Driving at this height.
Quick on quick
Set piece in and out
Fast ball to the pivot
Off the top
Run your lines hard
Every single time
No change, never
And in every phase
Win the —– collision.
You know before him.
Tackler has to react.
Why would you hesitate?
Over the ball, clear and controlled.
Clean and quick passes,
A short ball for every five long.
Finish like a steam train at pace.
Why are we watching the ball?
Why are we stumbling and bumbling?
Why are we rolling around like —–s?
Decelerating into contact, limp dolls?
What is the ——- point of practice?
What is wrong with your ears?
Solid, clean, quick, clear, hard, finish.
We should score every bloody time!
What is the source of your malfunction?
Do what I am saying, do it, do it. Do it!’
My ears hurt.
They are ripped.
Hanging by a thread.
There is a cord,
Or maybe it’s band.
It runs from my knee to my shoulder blade.
It feels like someone is pulling a rusty needle
When I sneeze,
Or cough at night,
A blade cuts my nerves
Inside my shoulder.
I loved that carry last night,
Pick up, don’t drop it, fend that —–.
But I know, I know, I know
We’ll look at the vision of the tackle
I missed just before oranges.
Got my feet in place, shuffled.
But ducked into it
And snapped me.
Missed him. Just missed him.
Arms flailing, sat down on my bum.
Don’t leave me on an island.
Don’t want to be in space.
Stay close to the ruck.
Don’t know how much longer
I can stay at this pace.
Maybe a job at the agency.
Eat what I want.
[latest_videos_strip category=“rugby” name=“Rugby”]
“Look at that space!
What are you doing?
Not another —— box kick!
Get on your horse!
Rip off his arm!
Hit him with the soggy end!
Oh come on!
My aching ——!
What is wrong with your one eye,
You ——-, barnacle-encrusted, —-,
Son of a ——-.
Yes! Yes! You beauty.
You absolute genius.”
“With all this possession
And camping out territorially
Deep in the heart of the red zone,
Why can’t the —— punch it through
To get more of a reward for their
Dominance? Answer me that, Bob.
The last pass just isn’t sticking,
They aren’t earning the right to go wide,
They aren’t making the hard yards, Mike.
They need to build the phases,
Be patient, more clinical, more accurate.
Yes, that’s the thing.
Oh, and against the run of play,
There’s a cheeky grubber
And a sprint under the poles.
What a try!”