My Life as a Hooker: When a Middle-Aged Bloke Discovered Rugby

In my late thirties, it gradually dawned on me that I had become Jason’s regular hooker. It was an arrangement that worked well for a couple of reasons. He didn’t need me to dress up in anything particularly risqué or to do anything too vulgar, other than cuddle in the middle of a field with him and fourteen other men on a Saturday afternoon.

Steven Gauge’s response to an impending midlife crisis didn’t involve piercings, tattoos or a red sports car – instead, he decided to take up rugby. What he found on the pitch was a wonderful game, far removed from the professional televised glamour of international rugby, where ordinary blokes with ordinary jobs (and some extraordinary bellies) get together once in a while and have a great time rolling around in the mud.

By the end of his first few seasons, Steven had cracked his nose and various other parts of his anatomy – but he had cracked the game too, and found a place in the club as Captain of the Fourths.