Searching my closet, I discovered a brown paper package tied with string (if, like me, you couldn’t guess its contents, the fact that it was wrapped in brown paper and tied with string should give you an idea of ​​its age) knowing that brown paper and string disappeared from the earth along with the dinosaurs that knew how to wrap a package, sometime in the early 1960s.

Intrigued by the package and admiring the craftsmanship of each folded corner and the carefully tied knot and twist of the yellowish thread, I proceeded to untie the thread by wrapping it around my fingers and carefully setting it aside, remembering my grandmother doing the same thing. , my father instead put the rope in his pocket, he always carries a piece of rope in his pocket, to this day, (he celebrated his 90th birthday in January).

prompt the question; How long is a piece of cord?

Answer: 90 years duration.

Opening the package I was greeted by an old friend who had stuck by me through thick and thin, mud and rain, snow and ice, now showing the same traces of age as me, slimming down a bit, fading away and now with as many folds as the surface area allows.

My old rugby shirt, preserved over time, is with me once again, or is it not? The passage of Time, Food and Beer, both on the shirt and on me, was more than evident. Would we still fit skin to skin? there was only one way to find out. Pausing for a moment to consider, as one does when an old school friend tries to contact him on Friends Reunited and wonders if it’s better to forget the idea of ​​contacting him and just remember things as they were to avoid any embarrassment. or disappointment.

There was only one solution to this question, I took off my top, standing ceremoniously, ritualistically with the red and white hoop shirt spread out on the bed in front of me, no 5 staring at me, waiting to be transformed from this floor. Shapeless into the fine physique he once enjoyed, gripping the bottom of the shirt with my thumbs tucked inside, I proceeded to gather the shirt into a ring to slide over my head, once inside, eyes closed, the shirt fell away. turned into a time machine, taking me back to the dressing room, to the bottom of that muddy alley, the frozen floor and the showers, the mixture of aromas, winter vegetable liniment, dubbing, wet socks, sweat, smoke coming out of the chimney in the bar area of ​​the club

Opening my eyes, I pulled the shirt over my head, relieved at least that it still fit, now to maneuver my arms inside the sleeves (did I mention it was an old shirt?) being careful not to put too much strain on it. this old already stretched seams, sliding my arms gently until my hands protruded from the cuffs, relieved that they still fit me, grabbing the bottom of the shirt that was still in a wrinkled state over my chest, I decided to go for it and pulled with all my strength. my strength to bring the bottom of the shirt to its correct resting place, feeling proud that at least it was on and now it had shape, felt great, or was looking at it with my time machine vision, turning to the mirror, for that “mirror, mirror” moment on the wall that we all love to partake in, i saw before me not a transformation, but rather a change in form, what was once a red and white rim rugby shirt it now looked like a barber’s pole, the shirt had developed what can only be described as a beer belly, taking one last k bath and assessment of the still proud shirt, I decided that the distorted shape was the result of being encased in the brown paper for all those years and too much tension applied to the knots in the rope, after all, it never looked like this when I made it. I last used it 42 years ago!

The origins of the rugby shirt or jersey as it was then known date back to 1839. At Rugby School, the 1839 School House team were the first team to adopt a uniform. All of their players wore red velvet caps during a match that Queen Adelaide is believed to have watched.

These velvet caps, along with white pants and jerseys, were accepted for “tracking” players, though each wore their favorite colors and carried a personal motto on their jersey (equivalent to today’s jersey slogan). I bet it wasn’t “rugby players do it with weirdly shaped balls”

With the Rugby World Cup fast approaching my wardrobe will see a new addition, after a visit to the rugby shop my old friend will have the honor of watching games with me just hanging out together unless I can get back to get fit. on time?