I am getting to the selfish point where I want to say to anybody I have a good memory, or opinion of, can you please do your very best to stay alive. Today, I learned too late of the passing of one of the people I played rugby with at the mighty MRUFC. I learned of the passing of Darin Bice (1964-2010)

By played I mean he was in the front row and so was I. In the same grade playing rugby or sitting on the bench together for most of my short, unspectacular career as a prop. Often Darin and I were competing for that last spot the No 17 or occasionally as the No 1. Darin because family was first and training second, me because I was keen but inexperienced. A few times in 2006-7 I played tighthead and he played either hooker or loosehead.

In the front row, I remarked on many occasions you are more close to the other two front rowers than you will be with anyone else in your life. You learn them by scent, you are so tightly connected when binding for a scrum that you know their ribs, their shoulder, the small of their back as your arm wraps around to bind tightly on. By the end of the game with sweat pouring out of you, you can tell when your tight 5 is within cooey of you heading into a breakdown.

I hated it when we both hit the pitch at the same time, as he would lift at the front position and I would move to the middle and that would mean as the middle lifter I would lift at every lineout.

Darin was, a team man, a team player, but more than that he was a dedicated family man. He lived a couple of horizons away from the rugby club, but he would come to Thursday night practice and come on Saturday and shout encouragement to our team when he was on or off the pitch, advice on the laws of the game to the ref and keep spirits high to us warming the bench.

Darin was one of the few players shorter than me, and what I remember about him most is the shoulder length golden hair, and his ability to get under and dislodge the opposition come scrum time. A man with a passion for the game, and a passion for sharing the tricks of the front row. He, along with my mentor and mate Tommy Gunn taught me enough in my first full year of playing rugby not to break my neck, my back or my shoulder. He would, despite the pair of us huffing and puffing to get to the next break down have an encouraging word rather than ‘get your arse moving’ rationale of the girls from the back line.

Despite his passion for rugby, his family came first. In losing Darin his family have lost a father, a husband, and a son. For those of us that knew Darin in whatever capacity he was a man whose loyalty was always front and foremost in everything he did. I will miss the man, his words, his advice and his sense of what rugby is about: I will miss his sense of fun.

Vale Darin Bice (1964 - 2010), now is far too soon to leave this world, and far too early to start playing in heaven, the game they play in heaven.