I have embraced many sports on our journeys round the globe, but one alien. I say that having ventured to watch it on occasions, although I stress that it was never the main attraction of the trip. Romania v Spain in Bucharest springs to mind. Auckland v Waikato in New Zealand. Eden Park impressed. Barbarians at both Murrayfield and Twickenham, courtesyof of sponsor tickets from work. You cant when it is free. We are talking rugby. Rugby Union to be precise.
Rugby in my mind was always a game played by posh kids at private schools. Well outside South Wales, where it has a universal appeal. At a normal Comprehensive school, we were football - only football. The egg chasing was left to the rich kids at their private schools.
I find myself this morning in Rugby. Rugby, Warwickshire. Home of the game. Vera was on route go meet her first Mum and Dad later in the day. She looked puzzled, as we alighted the car on a very pleasant side road in the heart of the Rugby Union territory. Rugby gives no clue as to the most traditional centre, as you approach. The trappings
of modern society are immediate near the northern entrance - another huge Amazon warehouse or distribution centre. A road closure prompted an unplanned detour, before were back on track near the town centre. retail park and suppermarket land merged. The LCFC graffiti on a bridge highlighted the internal confusion in a town that us the birthplace of Rugby Union. A town in Warwickshire with roots in another sport, proclaiming loyalty to footballs Leicester City in another County.
The leafy suburb just south of Rugby town centre is home to Rugby School. The school was founded in 1567, after funding was left in the will of a certain Lawrence Sheriff. A Rugby native, he went on to amass a fortune as a grocer. His customers were the elite of the day, including Queen Elizabeth I. I would stress he had relocated to London and wasnt running some form of early day Waitrose online delivery. Sheriffs legacy was to provide a free grammar school education for the boys of Rugby and thus the school bumbled on for a few centuries before the institution it is today. Whilst the school undoubtedly contributed to history with its alumni, including a former
Prime Minister in Neville Chamberlain, the most lasting gift is that of the game of rugby. The roots of the game are the stuff of legend. Literally. There is no specific documentation to confirm the foundation of the game and it is only reputed to be that a certain William Webb Ellis picked the ball up during a game of football and ran with it. The year was 1823. Picking up the ball was allowed at the time - running with it was forbidden. The stories actually emerged sometime after the death of Webb Ellis and were attributed to another in his memoirs. Whatever the truth, myth or otherwise, the modrn day egg chasers play for the Webb Ellis Trophy on the world stage.
The wide open spaces to our left were the field on which the boys of 1823 would have played. I envisaged something akin to a school field, but perhaps with an upmarket changing pavillion and small seated stand for good measure. There was none apparent. Indeed, there was no hallowed turf either. The earth was piled and and a few tractors and other heavy machinery parked to one side. The season must have been
over and the turf had been ripped up in preparation for the new season in the autumn. I contemplated some photographs, but the warning signs indicated no further encroachment should take place on to school land. The original or at least oldest remaining sections of the school buildings lay on the far side. All was quiet. It was the weekend and the Easter School holidays. The wealthy pupils would no doubt be enjoying themselves with a spot of late season skiing. The original ethos of the school as envisaged by Lawrence Sheriff to provide free education for ghe local boys has now morphed into some hefty fees.
