Friday, March 12, 2004
birth of rugby's “beautician” legend
Here's an amazing but true tale to warm the cockles of your heart.
Our hero is Tasco, a nuggety and bent-nosed hooker in a pretty good under-15s school rugby side. His team is in the process of handing out the father of a hiding, at home, to a lowly competitor.
Nothing special about this late ‘70s early winter outing - so far. Significantly, amongst a straggle of chatting and largely disinterested spectators are members of the home school's revered First XV, scheduled to play next on the same ground.
Deep into the match, a kick sails over the touch line, just where the first grade boys are milling around. The school rugby glitterati is there in force: the first grade coach is there, so is the school principal, the school captain, and so - most importantly, as far as Tasco is concerned - is the first grade hooker, a gentleman known as Fishhead.
Now, thinks Tasco, would be a great chance to catch attention. He decides to trial a highly unorthodox lineout play his team had concocted during the last training session.
And so it was that, with back to the first graders and body positioned authoritatively in throwing position, he made the historic call:
“Beautician!”
Curiousity was immediately palpable amongst the knowlegdeable spectators. This was not a generic call like, say, "Harbour Bridge" or "46". And it certainly didn't sound like any cousin of the infamous "99", which everyone in the district knew to be the signal for instigation of fisticuffs.
Later, Tasco was able to recall with pride that the perfect positioning of the lineout enabled the spectators to view what transpired in the same detail and with the same clarity as Tasco himself.
He, hooker and lineout thrower, released the ball with as much force as the needed accuracy and guile would allow, straight at the face of his opposite number standing at front of the lineout. It was a perfectly directed throw. In the split second it took the ball to reach its target, Tasco (and Fishhead and his friends) could see the eyes of the opposing hooker:
(a) Light up with surprised glee that the ball was coming his way; then
(b) Expand in panic as he realized this was as intended; then, finally
(c) Disappear from view to be replaced by the back of his skull, from which the ball ricocheted many feet in the air.
The thing that really sealed the deal, as - following a moment of collective and stunned silence - the crowd doubled over in loud hysterical laughter, was that the referee clearly had no idea about what had happened. He awarded no penalty, nor did he rule that the ball had not gone "in straight".
The previously unknown Tasco was an instant celebrity, and everyone suddenly wanted a piece. Never had lineout throwing been so popular. For the rest of the game, everyone on the team wanted to throw the ball in the lineout, and specifically to throw a “Beautician”.
Whenever the ball went out, five voices distant and close would yell "Beautician!". Locks were even kicking the ball out deliberately, just so there could be a Beautician.
The coach was having an apoplectic fit, but for 20 minutes or so Tasco was living out a rugby fantasy. The icing on the cake came when his own fly half instructed Tasco to feign injury when the ball went out, and then "recover" once the fly half was installed in his place at hooker and lineout thrower.
Therefore Tasco, the hooker, found himself playing fly half! The coach, a 120kg former rower, was red in the face and blowing a gasket on the sidelines, but by this time had lost his voice. The Beautician circus only came to an end when the referee, alerted by the strange musical chairs being played around the home team's never-before-so-popular hooking position, eventually cottoned on to the illegality of the throw.
As for the First XV boys, they laughed loud and long well after the end of the match. The loudest laugher was Fishhead. This was an unusual thing. Here was a character that was only known to school juniors for episodes of profound mirth following sequences like:
“Hey, Fishhead.”
“That's Mr. Fishhead to you, s*it for brains”. Wallop!
Fishhead was said to be so impressed with “Beautician” that his coach had to restrain him from using the throw himself.
This order famously broke down only in the very last game of the season: the grand final. Fishhead’s team was more than a converted try behind going into the last few minutes of a brutal game.
A ball went out and the call was made. It was heard in the grandstands. This time the school's spectators knew what to expect. Zoom!
Unfortunately, unlike Tasco’s opponent, Fishhead’s immediately sensed the malice in his opponent's action. He blocked the throw with his arms, then came forward throwing punches. Both hookers were sent off.
Coach’s head went into hands. "F*cking 'Beautician'", he was heard to mutter. The legend had snowballed.
The writer was a spectator at these events.
Years later, chance and circumstance found me wandering down to the old school rugby grounds to see a new generation of players in action. I hadn't been there more than a few minutes, when a lineout formed within earshot and close view: "Beautician!" came the call. If there was a chair underneath me I would have fallen off.
Sure enough: too straight went the throw. Up came blocking arms - in apparent expectation. Push and shove followed, as the referee's whistle. knowingly, reprimanded players and blew it up.
Watching the game was the old first grade coach, he still a teacher at the school. "F*cking Beautician, f*cking Fishhead", he laughed, shaking his head.
Our hero is Tasco, a nuggety and bent-nosed hooker in a pretty good under-15s school rugby side. His team is in the process of handing out the father of a hiding, at home, to a lowly competitor.
Nothing special about this late ‘70s early winter outing - so far. Significantly, amongst a straggle of chatting and largely disinterested spectators are members of the home school's revered First XV, scheduled to play next on the same ground.
Deep into the match, a kick sails over the touch line, just where the first grade boys are milling around. The school rugby glitterati is there in force: the first grade coach is there, so is the school principal, the school captain, and so - most importantly, as far as Tasco is concerned - is the first grade hooker, a gentleman known as Fishhead.
Now, thinks Tasco, would be a great chance to catch attention. He decides to trial a highly unorthodox lineout play his team had concocted during the last training session.
And so it was that, with back to the first graders and body positioned authoritatively in throwing position, he made the historic call:
“Beautician!”
Curiousity was immediately palpable amongst the knowlegdeable spectators. This was not a generic call like, say, "Harbour Bridge" or "46". And it certainly didn't sound like any cousin of the infamous "99", which everyone in the district knew to be the signal for instigation of fisticuffs.
Later, Tasco was able to recall with pride that the perfect positioning of the lineout enabled the spectators to view what transpired in the same detail and with the same clarity as Tasco himself.
He, hooker and lineout thrower, released the ball with as much force as the needed accuracy and guile would allow, straight at the face of his opposite number standing at front of the lineout. It was a perfectly directed throw. In the split second it took the ball to reach its target, Tasco (and Fishhead and his friends) could see the eyes of the opposing hooker:
(a) Light up with surprised glee that the ball was coming his way; then
(b) Expand in panic as he realized this was as intended; then, finally
(c) Disappear from view to be replaced by the back of his skull, from which the ball ricocheted many feet in the air.
The thing that really sealed the deal, as - following a moment of collective and stunned silence - the crowd doubled over in loud hysterical laughter, was that the referee clearly had no idea about what had happened. He awarded no penalty, nor did he rule that the ball had not gone "in straight".
The previously unknown Tasco was an instant celebrity, and everyone suddenly wanted a piece. Never had lineout throwing been so popular. For the rest of the game, everyone on the team wanted to throw the ball in the lineout, and specifically to throw a “Beautician”.
Whenever the ball went out, five voices distant and close would yell "Beautician!". Locks were even kicking the ball out deliberately, just so there could be a Beautician.
The coach was having an apoplectic fit, but for 20 minutes or so Tasco was living out a rugby fantasy. The icing on the cake came when his own fly half instructed Tasco to feign injury when the ball went out, and then "recover" once the fly half was installed in his place at hooker and lineout thrower.
Therefore Tasco, the hooker, found himself playing fly half! The coach, a 120kg former rower, was red in the face and blowing a gasket on the sidelines, but by this time had lost his voice. The Beautician circus only came to an end when the referee, alerted by the strange musical chairs being played around the home team's never-before-so-popular hooking position, eventually cottoned on to the illegality of the throw.
As for the First XV boys, they laughed loud and long well after the end of the match. The loudest laugher was Fishhead. This was an unusual thing. Here was a character that was only known to school juniors for episodes of profound mirth following sequences like:
“Hey, Fishhead.”
“That's Mr. Fishhead to you, s*it for brains”. Wallop!
Fishhead was said to be so impressed with “Beautician” that his coach had to restrain him from using the throw himself.
This order famously broke down only in the very last game of the season: the grand final. Fishhead’s team was more than a converted try behind going into the last few minutes of a brutal game.
A ball went out and the call was made. It was heard in the grandstands. This time the school's spectators knew what to expect. Zoom!
Unfortunately, unlike Tasco’s opponent, Fishhead’s immediately sensed the malice in his opponent's action. He blocked the throw with his arms, then came forward throwing punches. Both hookers were sent off.
Coach’s head went into hands. "F*cking 'Beautician'", he was heard to mutter. The legend had snowballed.
The writer was a spectator at these events.
Years later, chance and circumstance found me wandering down to the old school rugby grounds to see a new generation of players in action. I hadn't been there more than a few minutes, when a lineout formed within earshot and close view: "Beautician!" came the call. If there was a chair underneath me I would have fallen off.
Sure enough: too straight went the throw. Up came blocking arms - in apparent expectation. Push and shove followed, as the referee's whistle. knowingly, reprimanded players and blew it up.
Watching the game was the old first grade coach, he still a teacher at the school. "F*cking Beautician, f*cking Fishhead", he laughed, shaking his head.
