Why We play the game

 When the battle scars have faded

And the truth becomes a lie
And the weekend smell of liniment
Could almost make you cry.

When the last rucks well behind you
And the man that ran now walks
It doesn’t matter who you are
The mirror sometimes talks

Have a good hard look old son!
The melons not that great
The snoz that takes a sharp turn sideways
Used to be dead straight

You’re an advert for arthritis
You’re a thoroughbred gone lame
Then you ask yourself the question
Why the hell you played the game?

Was there logic in the head knocks?
In the corks and in the cuts?
Did common sense get pushed aside?
By manliness and guts?

Do you sometimes sit and wonder
Why your time would often pass
In a tangled mess of bodies
With your head up someone’s……?

With a thumb hooked up your nostril
Scratching gently on your brain
And an overgrown Neanderthal
Rejoicing in your pain!

Mate – you must recall the jersey
That was shredded into rags
Then the soothing sting of Dettol
On a back engraved with tags!

It’s almost worth admitting
Though with some degree of shame
That your wife was right in asking
Why the hell you played the game?

Why you’d always rock home legless
Like a cow on roller skates
After drinking at the clubhouse
With your low down drunken mates

Then you’d wake up – check your wallet
Not a solitary coin
Drink Berocca by the bucket
Throw an ice pack on your groin

Copping Sunday morning sermons
About boozers being losers
While you limped like Quasimodo
With a half a thousand bruises!

Yes – an urge to hug the porcelain
And curse Sambuca’s name
Would always pose the question
Why the hell you played the game!

And yet with every wound re-opened
As you grimly reminisce it
Comes the most compelling feeling yet
God, you bloody miss it!

From the first time that you laced a boot
And tightened every stud
That virus known as rugby
Has been living in your blood

When you dreamt it when you played it
All the rest took second fiddle
Now you’re standing on the sideline
But your hearts still in the middle

And no matter where you travel
You can take it as expected
There will always be a breed of people
Hopelessly infected

If there’s a teammate, then you’ll find him
Like a gravitating force
With a common understanding
And a beer or three, of course

And as you stand there telling lies
Like it was yesterday old friend
You’ll know that if you had the chance
You’d do it all again

You see – that’s the thing with rugby
It will always be the same
And that, I guarantee
Is why the hell you played the game!

One Hundred Years of the Mellish Family and Westcombe Park RFC

It is May 2024 and it was about a 100 years ago that the Mellish family first became involved with ‘Combe. Nobody quite knows when three brothers Tom, John and Bill Mellish first joined and started playing for the club. As there is a first team photo 1925-26 with John Mellish in it, the probability is that he must have joined a season or two beforehand to learn the game if nothing else. Rugby would not have been played at any school that the sons of a dockworker would have gone to. In all probability they joined the club in 1924-25 or earlier. Their slightly younger cousin, Richard James Mellish, aka Dick Mellish, my dad (born 1907), joined a couple of years later and I have a photo of dad in the 1930-31 “A” XV photo.

Tom Mellish captained the club in the 1929-30 and I know, that his brother Bill captained the “A” XV for at least one season – date unknown. Tom, John and Bill appear to have left the club in the early thirties. Tom became a referee and stayed involved with the game for a number of years. John Mellish, a policeman, was also a keen boxer and was the European Police Welter Weight Champion for 1931. My dad also boxed and was the Sussex Scout light-weight boxing champion in 1922. Whether dad and John ever used their boxing prowess on the rugger field is unknown!

Dad stayed on playing for ‘Combe and was club captain in 1936 -37 and again in 1946-47. Dad “officially” stopped playing rugby at the end of the ‘46-47 season. I was due in the October and because of my mum’s badly damaged legs (She was caught in an air-raid in 1940) they were expecting problems. I do recall that dad would always take his kit along and if one of the lower teams was short of a player, he would join in for them. He always said “don’t tell your mother”; but she always knew. Apart from the dirty kit dad would be stiff and sore on Sunday morning, a feeling that I got to know well over the years!

Dad became involved with the admin side of the game and was Team Secretary for a number of years. These were the days when you had to post a card to each member of every team telling them which team they were in and where they had to be the following Saturday. Dad was Hon. Treasurer from 1964-68 and President from 1966-68.

His youngest brother John, born 1921, played for ‘Combe after the war. He was a No 8 and played for the 1st XV for a number of seasons. John stopped playing relatively young and became a referee. John then became heavily involved with training and vetting of referees. He carried on with this when he left the UK and took his family and settled in Richmond, Virginia, USA. I recall being at Heathrow in the early nineties waiting to catch a flight to San Francisco. In the crowd milling about the terminal, I spotted a number of people wearing track suits with the words “California Rugby Referees on Tour”. I spoke to one of them and mentioned that my uncle was a referee in the States, but that he lived on the East Coast. He asked me his name and I said John Mellish, he then yelled “Guys we have John Mellish’s nephew on the flight with us”. It appeared John was well known in referring circles in the States and had worked tirelessly in helping set-up the organisational structure – he was rewarded with a Lifetime Achievement Award for Services to Rugby in America.

Dad was the eldest of five brothers and although only John played, two of his other brothers, George and Gordan were involved backstage as it were helping run the club, serving behind the bar etc. The ladies were also involved; my mum, Grace (Gordon’s wife) and Jean (John’s wife) helping prepare the sandwiches and cups of tea for the players after the game. This was long before the advent of professional staff and hot meals after the game.

Gordon’s son “young Gordon” played for the club in the late fifties and early sixties. I started playing for the colts and twenties in about 1962/3. I went off to college in 1966 and on finishing moved to Canterbury and played rugby there. Moving to Bromley in 1977 I re-joined ‘Combe and played for the “A” XV. alongside Robin Taylor in the front-row. I then started coaching min-rugby when my sons started to want to play.

My middle-son Andrew now graces the field for ‘Combe (starting playing for the club aged 45). My two grand-children Henry and Georgia, although both keen on rugby, live in the West Midlands and play mini-rugby there. So, it looks as if the tradition of the Mellish Family playing for ‘Combe may be drawing to a close – but who knows what the future may bring.

Barry Mellish 1st May 2024