My enthusiasm for sport has always surpassed my ability. Except for soccer. At school, me and John Grant would always play in defence and hope the ball never came our way. I still don’t see the point of that one.
But I enjoyed cricket and tug-of-war (I wasn’t very heavy but I had brains and understood the importance of rhythm), and hockey and swimming, and above all, rugby.
We’re fortunate now to live right next door to not one but two rugby grounds, and a year and a half ago I got around to signing away our Sunday mornings to take Joshua to rugby training.
It’s been a ‘journey’, but the squad is finally coming together, and in their little matches Joshua is showing flashes of genius, not to mention grit and determination—and kittens for his mother.
He had 2 days with Saracens coaches at half term, along with four of his squad-mates, and it might have made a difference.
He’ll also happily sit and watch the 6 Nations, cheering along whoever is playing (let’s not mention the Calcutta Cup though), and even though he was cheering for France at the outset was quite devastated when Paolo Garbisi’s rushed penalty bounced off the posts.
He’s also discovered that he can swim. He’s been having lessons since he was 5 or 6, but something has suddenly clicked, to the extent that when his primary school trust organized (I use the term loosely) a gala at the Olympic Park in Stratford, and his school only had four swimmers for a 5-lap relay, he was chosen to swim twice and helped the team to a silver medal—the only podium slot his school managed that day.
So he’s not just smart and handsome, but athletic too. Probably all due to his mum, again.
