Today, while reading an old rugby entry from 2005, I had a very solemn moment, when I realised I was having a ‘Moonlight Graham’ moment. At a pivotal time in the film ‘Field of Dreams’, Ray Kinsella’s daughter falls and chokes on a hot dog. Moonlight Graham arrives at the edge of the baseball pitch and hesitates, if only for a moment. Moonlight Graham is the only one who knows once he leaves that pitch, that he can’t go back. He also knows he is the only one who can save Ray Kinsella’s daughter.

Kinsella relieved at Moonlight Graham’s actions, then realises the cost to Moonlight Graham. “Oh my God. You can’t go back. (beat) You can’t go back.” “It’s alright son” says Dr Graham who has morphed into Burt Lancaster. It was like that for me today when I read two short essays from the 2005 Rugby Annual. The first was ‘Three Props behind the bar’ and the second was ‘A literal slaughter’.

The only friendships I have sustained from that time, are less than a handful. In fact at that time in mid 2005, I would have sooner spat on Jim Roy’s hand rather than shake it – once again confirming to me that starting as foes, and becoming friends, seems to be the best way to sustain friendships rather than the reverse. But as per usual I digress. I would give nearly anything to have the friendships as they were in 2005. But life moves on, and my personal demons, and other’s personal needs and drivers change. I had to be true to myself, and that meant not living in the closet at the Rugby club.

Back in 2005 I was looking at rugby through rose tinted glasses, my passion for playing and belonging to a team surmounted the considerably egos that play the game and my own flaws.  By the 18th February 2006, it was all over. I knew it at the time, and like always when the truth hurts too much, I spent 3 years in denial trying to ignore what my gut instinct knew that night. Prophetically I wrote in ‘Jeff Buckley’s Sigh’ composed the day after Jim Roy’s Lygon street housewarming the following words, not as a prophecy, not as a rule to be followed, just as a gut feeling:

I didn’t realise it at the time last night – but I do today, rugby’s over as I know it and no Jeff Buckley song can bring it back.

For the next 3 years, I tried to put the genie back in the bottle and failed miserably. Self medication in many forms took over to make things ‘right’ which – in turn – made things anything but ‘right’.

When I think about what I would have to give to have things the way they were in 2005 the cost for me is too high. It saddens me, and makes the day to day living, just that little bit more bitter and sadder. The only benefit of this, is that despite the good times, and being aware of the bad, you are better prepared for the bad times. Maybe this is what that aphorism ‘Age brings wisdom’ means, although I think it is more likely that  the reality is ‘Age brings experience’.