Dave Toseland's Speech Home
When Barry and Shurv suggested that I say something I initially wondered what I might talk about. I went to bed that night and woke up feeling a bit restless with a veritable kaleidoscope of mixed images of Wellingborough Grammar School flashing through my mind – not surprisingly mostly connected with sport. When Irene found me unable to sleep, scribbling away in the office bedroom at 2:30 in the morning she wondered what the hell was going on. “The reunion” seemed a sufficient explanation. “Oh, of course, I should have guessed” and she went back to bed shaking her head, no doubt wondering for how much longer emails from Barry Waite and Keith Shurville were going to clog up our computer.
The rugby of course featured prominently in my thoughts. As a 6th former Mondays were the only day that I regularly got to school on time, unable to contain my curiosity as to what beautifully hand-written pearls Tony Sparrow had penned about Saturday’s game, McIlroy cutting through the opposition pack like a “dirk through haggis”; and also as junior teams going on a coach to away matches and daring to have a fag on the back seats whilst launching into, “If I were the marrying kind …”, “Dinah, Dinah show us yer leg” etc; PE lessons, playing ‘Pirates’ at the end of term; boxing, getting a hammering by Steve Grant who I had foolishly agreed to take on in a lesson on a wet games afternoon; swimming at Wilby Lido, I still shiver at the thought of hitting that icy water; athletics, Sports Day, watching young ‘Chunky’ dive over the high jump bar and land on a pathetic worn out piece of coconut matting strategically placed to cover the wooden edges of the sand pit (5ft 2 ½ inches, a new school record in the Under 15 age group, about 1m 60 cm in today’s money, very impressive). I wonder what the Health and Safety officer at the school today would have to say about your kamikaze efforts into the sand pit. Incidentally that was the same year that you also won the 100, 220, 440, 880 yards, and the long jump. It was spring 1963, by then I was a confirmed smoker sharing 5 woodbines a day with my mate Brian Barron, I remember limping in 3rd in that 440 race, lungs bursting, throat burning, Chunky long gone and John Cleaton passing me in the home straight. Cricket with Trevor Norman, learning the hard way why it’s a good idea to always wear a box when batting (I’m pretty sure it was you John (Brown), who bowled the slow full toss that I was attempting to hit through the nets and over the fence into Abbey Road, sadly fooled by your deceptive pace, I had completed the shot way too early, the ball arrived a second later leaving me exposed to a full frontal attack, if that’s what it feels like to be hit by a slow bowler… I resolved to not repeat the experience. Basketball club with Bob Taylor after school, it was very helpful having Martin, the tuck shop manager in the team. He had the key to the back door. At the halfway break in the basketball practice sessions, we now had privileged entry, rather than having to fight in the scrum at the outside window for our frozen Mars and Oxo flavoured crisps. That may have been the first time that I truly understood the old cliché “It’s not what you know, it’s who!”
So many memories but ironically I always said that if I passed the11+ I didn’t want to go to the Grammar School. It was too posh and they didn’t play football. At 11 I knew exactly where I was going in life – I was going to be a professional footballer. If not for Wolverhampton Wanderers then at least for the Cobblers; after all Croyland Road Juniors had just won the Wellingborough and District league and cup double with an extra time 2 – 1 victory over the mighty Irchester in front of a huge crowd at Eastfield Park. There are several members of that illustrious team here tonight, Nigel, Chunky. As an aside, after more years teaching PE than I care to remember I have only ever taught one kid who made a living out of professional sport, but he did go on to be captain of England, that was Arsenal’s Tony Adams.
Anyway when I passed the 11+ and my best mate, Brian Barron, decided he was going to the Grammar School, I changed my mind! Still at first rugby didn’t seem so bad, lots of running around, no tackling just touch for the first few lessons. Then one games afternoon we were told to line up at the side of the pitch – tallest at the front, shortest at the back (very ‘heightest’ but PC only stood for Police Constable in those days!) Now I might have been a bit of a muppet when it came to not knowing my sines from my cosines or my perfect from my pluperfect tense, but I was wise enough to know what was coming next. Big, fat buggers in the forwards, little skinny buggers in the backs. I immediately sniffed a problem – I was a tall, skinny bugger!
Just as an aside did anyone ever find a practical use for sines or cosines. One windy day I did think it would have helped me to work out whether or not a particularly tall tree near to the house would land on the house if it were blown over, but my brain began to hurt so I gave up worrying about it; the tree’s still there.
But back to my dilemma, having a natural survival instinct (some might call it cowardice) I had to think on my feet. I moved unobtrusively towards the back of the line, bent my knees and crouched slightly, keeping my fingers firmly crossed. To my huge relief it worked! I stopped playing rugby 3 years ago and apart from a handful of games in the back row and a couple for fun in the second row (in 5 decades not once in the front row) I was always a back, most of the time at fly half getting my back row forwards to do my tackling for me!
Although I am now retired from teaching I was recently asked to cover for a PE colleague who was having an operation. The Head of Department, who’s a good friend, said a few 6th form girls who wanted to do rugby had approached him, was I interested? Reluctantly I said yes. I decided from the off that if these girls really wanted to play rugby I wasn’t going to mess about, lesson one: contact, the head on tackle. Anyway their enthusiasm and commitment was completely infectious. The numbers doubled from 12 to 24. This week I was asked to write reports on them, “Bloody hell, write reports, I’m only a supply teacher, I thought, but didn’t say!” The kids had already written their comments and I want to share a couple of them with you.
“Girls’ rugby is the best fun I have had in games for ages. Even though I am still petrified to make a proper tackle. It really gets your heart pumping (half with adrenalin, half with utter fear) when you get the ball and try to fight your way through a pack of people launching themselves at you.”
I was pleased to read that, great stuff from Jess, but listen to this from Susie, who I had pigeon holed as a frail, shy, quiet, sensitive, academic, female Harry Potter type character:
“Girls’ rugby has opened up another side of me, which I suppose had already been there after growing up with three brothers. A bruise on this field feels more like a trophy than anything else and you joyfully find your suppressed aggression and competitiveness a gift to the game rather than something to be sneered at and disapproved of. I have finally found the one true sport that is all about the ball and almost nothing else; you can have your boot in someone’s leg but if you have the ball clutched to your chest you just run. No apology necessary. No guilt follows you; only a series of bloodthirsty girls on your tail. A try scored with about six people swinging round your waist is a no-argument, good moment. Even if your trousers have been pulled down.”
And Dave Wilson, the spelling and punctuation are all perfect too!
Finally I have a reputation with Irene as being a ‘broad strokes’, ‘big picture’ type person, in other words I say something like: it would be great to go to Australia, or buy a campervan; but who’s the one who does the internet research, writes the letters, makes the phone calls, buys the tickets and so on, Irene of course. I like to think of it as teamwork. Well it’s been much the same with the organisation of this get-together; I had an idea Barrie and Shurv did most of the work. So I’ve got a small present for each of them, a proper leather rugby ball!