GOD AND LUNCH

When I was a wee lad, growing up in the wilds of Leicestershire, England's rugby heartland, we were taught that there were two religions. One revolved around some guy with a beard who lived a long time ago, and the other involved 15 rugby players wearing striped shirts, with letters on their backs. There were some great names out there including Paul Dodge, Les Cusworth, Dusty Hare, Peter Wheeler and a young Clive Woodward. In any other team each would have been revered in his own right as the undisputed Lord of all he surveyed. But not in Leicester. At Leicester one man rose above them all and came to be admired as the one true God - Dean Richards. He stood head and shoulders above all others and was rock for Leicester, England and the Lions. This being the days when Leicester used letters and not numbers for thier positions he even wore the letter G on his back. what more proof could anyone need?

Sadly his playing days finally had to come to an end, but fortunately the faithful were not left wandering in the desert for long. Another Leicester player picked up the baton from Richards and went on even further, becoming arguably the greatest rugby player England has ever produced, taking Leicester, England and the Lions to new heights. Under his leadership Leicester won the European cup twice, England won the Grand Slam, the Lions won in South Africa and then, to cap it all, England won the World Cup.

I have spent many happy hours watching him play at Welford Road, Twickenham, Parc des Princes, Cardiff Arms Park, Lansdowne Road, Murrayfield, The Colonnial Stadium (now renamed I think) and Stadium Australia.

And today he is in Hong Kong. Having lunch. With me (and about 1,000 others).

My only concern is that if I get to shake his hand I might either burst into tears or wet myself. Or both.

If anyone needs me after 12.00 today, tough.