Drybrook Rugby Club

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Given the Chairman decided to cancel Saturday nights entertainment and the introduction of the new Club President, as he was off on a jolly to watch Cheltenham play football, I thought that I ought to write a letter of acceptance and express my personal delight and honour at being given the privilege of being asked to become President of our great Rugby Club.
It is no secret especially at home that I love Drybrook Rugby Club.
The Club has and always will be a fundamental part of my life.

I began my playing career for Drybrook at the age of nine in 1974 and I am currently working on a book which I hope will show how important being part of a team, the bond that builds between people, and the principles and responsibilities that it instils in someone, can help them find friendship and trust, that can only be built by standing and working together to achieve the best for your team, your club and for you as an individual.
The book is entitled Village Rugby A Way of Life and I would like to include a small extract from the first chapter (opposite) that explains how my love for the Club and our game began

I have been lucky in my time at the Club to see it grow into what it is today.
Our pitches and facilities rank among the best in the land for a club at our level. The team has evolved into the best village rugby club in the United Kingdom and we have done this as an amateur organisation that players represent because they love and respect those traditions that we fiercely uphold.
I take great pride in the fact that our women’s section has produced a number of internationals, and even greater pride when I see, like I did Saturday, one of those World Cup winners training the next batch of hopeful youngsters.
Our mini and junior sections continue to thrive and this is so essential to our club that we keep producing young talent to come into the senior set-up. These young players are the lifeblood of our Club. The work put in by the coaches and committee of this section of our Club cannot be praised enough.
The club has given me some of my most treasured memories. Playing the game in the Drybrook colours was always an honour. Seeing my son run onto the pitch at Twickenham for my club will always be a special moment for me. The victory at Newent that saw us move to the highest position in the clubs history. The countless Saturday nights spent with my low down drunken pals. The tours – Oh the tours!
The club has always held the ethos that no one is better than anyone else, every player who represents our club at whatever level is just as important as the next person. Many clubs strive to match what we have without ever coming near.
I would like to take this opportunity to personally thank everyone who has served our club past and present. It never ceases to amaze me how much time and effort people are willing to give of themselves to help make our institution the success it is.
I look back on the past Presidents of the Club and realise that I have been greatly honoured to be asked to represent the Club in this role.
As President I promise to do my best to uphold the values of our Club and maintain the principles passed down to me over the years I have been involved. I will always represent the Club with pride and honour, though I cannot always promise dignity!
Thank you for giving me this opportunity and bestowing this great honour upon me.

Onwards and upwards. Drive on Dry!

Chris Tingle President Drybrook Rugby Football Club.

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Village Rugby: A Way of Life

An extract from the first chapter.

Chapter 1

INFECTED

“Of course training will still be on”, it has to be on because it is the most important thing in my life.
I am ten years old and I have found something that will be the ruling constant factor for the rest of my days.
It may be minus five outside and the snow will of course make things difficult but training will still be on.
It is nineteen seventy four and the reason training will still be on is because there are about ten other young lads who have also been infected with this passion.
There are others of course who won’t be there and will never know this feeling.
We will be the ones who will knock on Oscar’s door to get him up and out to train us.
Of course he will moan and groan and protest that it’s too cold and the ground is too hard and he was pissed Saturday night after the game, but, you know what? He will do it. Why? Because he loves it as much as we do.
You see he has also been infected.
10am on a Sunday morning the most important time of the week for a young boy who is not that fussed about school. I played football because I enjoyed playing, but I know I will never be Billy Bremner.
Sunday morning is the time I become something more. I have found something that I am not only good at, but by being part of this team I am as important to my friends as they are to me. Already there is a bond being built between us that will see us be ready to stand by one another for the rest of our days.

So here we are 10am on Sunday morning in a cold wet field in the village of Drybrook.
Drybrook is in the Forest of Dean in the County of Gloucestershire. At that time in my life it was the centre of my Universe.
The Rugby Club is like the beating heart of that Village.
My family never owned a car so we didn’t travel that much, all the important things to me at that time took part in that Village. The old adage of everyone knowing everyone and taking a pride in knowing their business was never truer than in Drybrook.
The most important people to me in the Village were the ones who played rugby on a Saturday.
My Dad was typical of a lot of Dads of that time. He went to work, came home, had his dinner and went out on the garden. Kid’s had a lot more freedom then. We only spent time in the house to eat or sleep, so although we had no doubt we were loved, we never had close relationships with our parents. We loved them and respected them, we just never spent much time with them.
Saturday afternoon was the time I looked forward to so much because that’s when I went with my Dad to the rugby.
My brother is Glyn. He was a prop forward and that’s how I always see him, as a prop forward. Glyn is sixteen years older than me and my Dad would take me with him on a Saturday to watch Glyn play. In all fairness I never really saw that much of him. As a prop he was either in the scrum or in the middle of a maul, which in those days could go on for what seemed like hours.
Every club has its star players and Drybrook was no different. The afore-mentioned Oscar was famous for three things in Drybrook Rugby Club. He could go a whole season without getting his shirt dirty, he would drink anyone’s drink that was left in his vicinity and thirdly he terrified the opposition.
Nowadays, a six foot two, fifteen stone centre is commonplace, back then it was not the norm as anything over six feet would be sent straight to the second row.
Oscar would run upright with his knees level with his chest and possessed a vicious hand-off that he liked to aim straight into his adversaries face, which made tackling him a rather daunting proposition and as kids we would love to see the opposition try. He would also never bend to tackle anyone, which resulted in some of the worst clothesline tackles across the throat I have ever witnessed and this was also guaranteed to start a mass punch up, something else us kids were rather partial to.
And so here we were on this cold wet Sunday morning with this bastion of sportsmanship as our coach.
The first job would be to light the old gas boiler in the Nissen Hut that served as our changing rooms and still stands today as a reminder of those happy times.
All of us kids would be sent out to a safe distance while Oscar would find some willing scapegoat to turn on and light the gas.
More often than not this task would fall to Oscars coaching partner Taddy Pegler.
The problem with the old boiler was that although it would blow out gas with abandon, it would take some time for the long hand held match to catch it alight.
After a thunderous bang and a large amount of smoke Taddy would appear in the doorway with a broad grin and no eyebrows. At least we had hot water in the stone bath that we loved so much. As Oscar and Taddy would often share the bath with us getting the water hot was a necessity! These were the days before police checks and child safety officers and was a lot more fun than a trip to the swimming baths.
In those days you were picked according to height and weight and so it was I was cast in the starring role of the front row as a hooker.
To my delight I found the scrummaging part of a hooker’s game very much to my liking. To be one on one with your opposite number in a trial of strength and agility was always something I relished.
Throwing the ball straight into the lineout however presented a whole different proposition.
Training would always take the same format. Firstly we would be lined up in passing drills with whatever penalties Oscar and Taddy would see fit for a dropped ball or a forward pass. These could range from simple push-ups to having to run down to the village to pick up some cigarettes for Oscar. Next would come tackling practice (no such thing as tag in those days). This session would be accompanied by Oscar’s vocal tirade of obscenities. I am sure many people enjoying their early Sunday morning cup of tea would spill a little as Oscar would boom out “ for fuck sake Ting get your head down and knock the fucker back.” I always found this perfect knowledge of knowing exactly how to tackle coming from the clubs worst tackler rather amusing. We would always finish off with a game. Oscar and Taddy would be the opposing captains and the main objective was to get picked on Oscar’s team. Not only did you wish to avoid his hand-off, he would also very biasedly referee and was always victorious.
After our communal bath we head to the newly built clubhouse which comprised of just two rooms. The players bar on the left and the posh room on the right. We were obviously never allowed in the posh room which was decorated to resemble a mix between a French house of ill repute and an early Indian restaurant, with its vivid red velvet wallpaper, matching curtains and copper topped tables this was a place of sartorial elegance that was only opened on special occasions or for the committee meetings on a Wednesday evening.
We were huddled into the corner of the players bar where Oscar had purchased from the bar a jug of squash and some crisps. Mr Meek and Mr Davies would look disapprovingly at us from their barstools and we were soon shepherded out the door to make our way home for Sunday lunch.
Our first match was something that will forever be emblazoned on my mind. Firstly we were kitted out in what was then the Everton football clubs home kit. Oscar knew someone who could obviously do a deal on this replica kit and with no thought of the players who would be wearing these thin nylon shirts and shorts we were sent shivering onto the field.
The biggest problem with our team was that we had a wide range in our ages from fifteen down to twelve. This meant that we had to play at the higher age group level, and so it was we found ourselves confronted by the then County under sixteen champions Widden Old Boys. We lost by some sixty points and the blame was placed firmly on the fact that our kit was not up to the job. We proceeded to the clubhouse where Mr Ward the steward had poured us a jug of Toby Bitter shandy, in all honesty the squash was probably stronger but we drank it as if it were nectar from the Gods because we were now a real rugby team.