Dear ______,
You may recall that I joined the Ealing Volunteers to perform essential duties in the community. You warned me that I could become disillusioned with the work. How right you were, but in a strange way!
I got a job helping out with the Ealing Aristos Amateur Rugby Club. You know the sort of thing – maintaining the pitch, stewarding on match days, cleaning up the ground, etc. As the season progressed I became an increasingly enthusiastic supporter of the team – even attending away matches at Gunnersbury.
Now, I'm disillusioned about the basic values of the game. This is due to my overhearing a speech made by the team manager at the half-time interval of a key match held in their Hanwell Stadium.
I was next to the dressing room, counting the bars of soap for the weekly audit, and heard the entire thing.
The manager announced: "Settle down now, chaps! I want to be the first to announce to you a vital contract we have concluded with The Final Extremity. This is the UK branch of that great firm of American undertakers, The Last Roundup. Through our endeavours, The Final Extremity and Ealing Aristos will become household words – like Marmite and Manchester United. Hanwell will become a significant venue for sport.
"But let's not count our chickens before they are hatched. We have some progress to make before we achieve our financial goals. First let's review the first half of this important fixture. Now unfortunately, club financial business prevented me from watching the whole thing.
"I want to deal first with pitch behaviour – that's what our supporters come to see. Why do I find members of our team openly congratulating the opposition when they score against us? And Harrison, no weeping if you get knocked over. But if you must weep, leave your hankie in the dressing room. Oh, and Higgins – although there's no specific rule on the matter, pink booties with white laces are not allowed. I could go on.
"I must warn all members of the team that they've had their fun and games in the first half. In the second half things will be different. My job in the next few minutes is to weld you into a ruthless fighting machine. Are you ready? OK. Earlier, your coach Jeremy divided you into four groups to agree your winning tactics. I have asked to hear the results because the financial future of the club could depend on the suggestions offered by the four groups."
There was silence apart from the rustling of paper. Then, the manager said "It says here: 'In the scrum use all your strength to push the opposition back'. Here's another one: 'Pinch the other side's extremities'. Another: 'Give the referee the gladeye'.
"I don't need to go on, do I? Just get out there and enjoy yourselves. Now!"
The team trooped out happily to their doom. The despondent manager came out and saw me. I greeted him by saying "You've got an interesting problem today." "What's that?" he asked. "How to sell mortician publicity as part of a rugby team."
After condolences, we went off the pub together. Now, if you are interested in a financial stake in a thriving undertaker/bowls club deal, just let me know.
Yours,
Conrad
