Shit Sportsmen

[That last post stirred a few memories]

Many moons ago, when I was doing my apprenticeship, two of the guys in the same intake as myself were "amateur" sportsmen. Dean Arnison played semi-pro football for Huddersfield Town, Gerry Clarke [who I fancied rotten] rode for fun [and I bet he did too!] with the Featherstone Road Club.

Also in the factory were tow guys who played semi-pro rugby league [rugby league was all semi-pro then]. One for Castleford, the other for Featherstone Rovers. Another guy was in the British Olympic Cyclo-Cross team.

The lovely Gerry Clarke would ride from his home in Pontefract to Leeds and back everyday. Not only to get to and from work but as a part of his training [His daily miles total was around 70, I think]. The two rugby guys played every week, plus all the training too, and had no end of broken noses, missing teeth etc.

Steve Barnes, the cyclo-cross guy was shit. I don't think Long John Silver limped as much as Steve. How he ever got into the Brit Olympic team, Christ only knows.... [and he got time off of work to train. [He got dropped from the team because he was so crap]].

Dean Arnison only had around four games per season because he was always injured.

Although this is not a pukka scientific law....

Furphy's Law states that-

The louder a "sportsman" shouts about his skill,

the less skill there will be.

This one is for you, Gerry, you and your gorgeous legs!