Phil McGrawhan
Coach
- Messages
- 15,620
i didn't write this so I can't take the credit but I'm sure there's many on here who can relate to these words .
WHY THE HELL YOU PLAYED 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
With that last storming run behind you
And the man that ran now walks
It doesn’t matter who you are
The mirror sometimes talks
Have a good look old son!
The melon 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 those 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 making that crunching tackle
With your head up someone’s....?
With a thumb hooked up your nostril
Scratching gently on your brain
And that over-grown opponent
The Bludger, rejoicing in your pain
Mate – you must recall the jersey
That 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 partner 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 lowdown drunken mates
Then you’d wake up – check the wallet
Not a solitary coin
Drink Berocca by the bucket
Throw an ice pack onya groin
Copping sermons all next day
About boozers being losers
While you limped like Quasimodo
With half a thousand bruisers
Yes – you 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 know as Rugby League
Has been living in your blood
When you dream't 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 League
It will always be the same
And that I guarantee you
Is why the hell you played the game!
WHY THE HELL YOU PLAYED 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
With that last storming run behind you
And the man that ran now walks
It doesn’t matter who you are
The mirror sometimes talks
Have a good look old son!
The melon 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 those 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 making that crunching tackle
With your head up someone’s....?
With a thumb hooked up your nostril
Scratching gently on your brain
And that over-grown opponent
The Bludger, rejoicing in your pain
Mate – you must recall the jersey
That 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 partner 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 lowdown drunken mates
Then you’d wake up – check the wallet
Not a solitary coin
Drink Berocca by the bucket
Throw an ice pack onya groin
Copping sermons all next day
About boozers being losers
While you limped like Quasimodo
With half a thousand bruisers
Yes – you 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 know as Rugby League
Has been living in your blood
When you dream't 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 League
It will always be the same
And that I guarantee you
Is why the hell you played the game!
