It’s Saturday the 7th December 2013, weather conditions were perfect for rugby, not too cold, the ground was soft and there was a smell in the air that I could not identify. An unbeaten Dalkeith had traveled down to try and storm the fortress but there were 22 hardened warriors ready to sacrifice everything to destroy this invading force.

The game started off with some massive hits setting the standard by the Forrester forwards. Things started off in Dalkeith's favor with the green machine conceding an early converted try in the 7th minute as I was outpaced on the wing by my opposing number. We knew the day was going to be tough and the reassurance from my fellow warriors spurred me on.

We answered back in the 10th minute with Fraser ‘the bull’ Newbury knocking over a penalty. Shortly after we struck another blow in the 17th minute with Alan The Panther pouncing forward intercepting a Dalkeith pass to touchdown between the posts. The Panther moved with such speed that the press awarded the try to Pietro ‘the Italian Stallion’ Crolla. We had the momentum and we kept going with The Bull kicking over two more penalties adding a bit of flare with a sliding kick for one of the penalties. Dalkeith also squeezed in a penalty bringing the score 16-10 to Forrester.

Dalkeith were shaken, wounded even, losing their discipline with one of their own being yellow carded and sent from the pitch with the crowd booing! He was shortly followed by a second yellow card bringing their squad down to 13 players for part of the game.

Unfortunately like a greek tragedy a god had fallen in the battlefield. Mikey Banks had to leave the field injured, not because of an Achilles heal but due to the curse of the killer knee that has brought down many a Forries athletic god, myself included. His replacement was none other that John McMillan. It is said this 6ft 5 red hair giant hits a tackle with the same force as wrecking ball (but with his clothes on). Well the myths were true when he was yellow carded just before half time for destroying one of Dalkeiths front row. His yellow card was not for a dangerous tackle but rather the referee thought he was a danger to Dalkeith!

While all this was going on the Italian Stallion, PJ, mounted the Dalkeith attacking line and intercepted another pass galloping towards the the try line with screams of “gas it PJ, GAS IT!” Another conversion by The Bull 23-10. This was followed shortly by a Dalkeith penalty, 23-13 and that was half time.

Forrester started the second half one player down for the first five minutes and we lost some momentum. It wasn't until the 55th minute that the first blow of the second half was dealt which was a converted try by Dalkeith. 23-20. The pressure was on, Forrester fought back, attacking everywhere they could.

Then in the 63rd minute there was some loose play on the right wing with the ball bouncing along in open play. I saw an opening and claimed the ball, “leave it”, I screamed, “LEAVE IT”!!! My battlecry was heard and I scooped the ball at full pace crashing into the Dalkeith defensive line. Maybe it was bloodlust that kept me going forward, I felt unstoppable driving 10,15 metres with The Bull in close support. It took what seemed like 50 Dalkeith players to bring us down, ruck formed with a quick pass out wide to Stewart ‘Stookie’ Fulton sliding in on the right wing for the try! 28-20.

With Dalkeith wounded we spurred forward and were rewarded with a penalty that resulted in a lineout in Dalkeiths 22. The forwards secured the ball and began the slow march towards the try line. They did the hard work for Sean Broad’golden’foot to touchdown for the try in the bottom right corner. A well deserved try for the humble lad. Forrester 33-20.

With only 7 minutes left Dalkeith fought back as best they could. But the Forrester lads soldiered on and repelled each attack again and again. Then on the closing minutes a penalty was awarded to Dalkeith. Exhausted and defeated, Dalkeith opted for the kick and three points. Final score Forrester 33, Dalkeith 23. The battle was won!

There was no man of the match but rather Men of the Match in a game that will be passed down to our children and our childrens children.

Looking back on that Saturday morning, I now know what that smell in the air was, it was the smell of VICTORY!!!

Much love,

Dele