It would seem that regardless of what you are either producing or selling or delivering, ultimately there is always a case of the elephant in the room that presents itself at some stage.
So imagine my surprise - or not, as the case may be - when one of the parents at the kids' rugby club voiced his concern at last Wednesday's parents meeting that there was not (I quote) "a formal set of professional coaches to take over from next year".
The children in question are playing in the U6 division of the club. That's six years and younger, for those unfamiliar with the term. Hardly Six Nations in the making. Or not yet at any rate given my take on recent sessions:
Typically it is the volunteers - fathers, mothers, seasoned club members - who take over the training sessions, coaching, refereeing, and general admin duties in the 'mini' squad. It gives parents (often fathers) a fantastic opportunity to bond with their children doing a sport together, with rewarding results all round once the children progress to festivals and tournaments.
But the bottom line remains: if your child (or you) do not want to partake in such a team event, or spend your weekends during the winter months on a (very frequently) wet, windy, cold and muddy pitch, taking the initiative to get involved, helping to build camaraderie, learning new skills - including patience, tolerance and whistle-blowing - then, let's face it, this is not the sport for you.
Curling might be more suitable.
Anyway. Back to the elephant in the room analogy. There isn't one. This lone parent was the very obvious odd one out. The single dissenter amidst a sea of enthusiastic and energetic fathers and mothers. And additionally the only one who has still not paid the meagre subscription for his son's first year of introduction to rugby, five months on since we started.*
The sole reason for me writing about rugby is so that I can post a photo of my latest favourite pin-up.
|Oh boy-o, that's a fine pair of legs you have there|
Like I said. No elephant. None at all.
*sighs and wipes away drool from mouth*
* Actually I lie. He handed me a cheque today to pass on to the treasurer. But not without a lament about the lack of tag belts and bibs. "Disgraceful," he said. "So is your attitude," I was tempted to reply. For once I held my tongue.