All Captains

Surname	First names	Known by
Jackson	Brandon Thomas		view
Jackson	Stephen Carl	Steve	view
Jacobson	Luke Brittain		view
Jacobson	Mitchell Lee	Mitch	view
Jaffray	John Lyndon	Lyn	view
Jaffray	Mervyn William Rutherford		view
Jakes	Brian Eric William		view
James	Aaron Raymond		view
James	Kaci		view
Jefferd	Andrew Charles Reeves	Andy	view
Jefferies	Roger Peggie		view
Jefferson	Mark Robin		view
Jeffries	Thomas Mervyn		view
Jennings	Arthur Grahn Tuilevu		view
Jensen	Emma M		view
Johns	Elle		view
Johnson	Barry Winstone		view
Johnson	Martin		view
Johnson	Michael David		view
Johnson	Thomas William	Tom	view
Johnston	Tristram Alexander		view
Johnstone	Bradley Ronald	Brad	view
Johnstone	C Ayden	Ayden	view
Jones	Bevan Keith		view
Jones	Graham Laurence		view
Jones	Ian Donald	Kamo	view
Jones	Lee David Gethin		view
Jones	Michael Niko (Sir)		view
Jones	Peter Frederick		view
Jones	Winston George	Win	view
Joseph	James Whitinui	Jimmy	view
Joubert	Eben Daniel		view
Julian	Terrence Atkinson	Terry	view
Kaino	Ierome	Jerome	view
Karaka	Enoka Rukuata	Knox	view
Karatau	Laurence Herbert	Laurie	view
Katipa	Richard Bennett		view
Kaua	Peter T		view
Kaufana	Karne Pulelahi		view
Kawau	Jason Michael		view

Endorsement

When the battle scars have faded
And the truth becomes a lie
And the weekend smell of liniment
Could almost make you cry.
When the last rucks well behind you
And the man that ran now walks
It doesn’t matter who you are
The mirror sometimes talks
Have a good hard look old son!
The melons not that great
The snoz that takes a sharp turn sideways
Used to be dead straight
You’re an advert for arthritis
You’re a thoroughbred gone lame
Then you ask yourself the question
Why the hell you played the game?
Was there logic in the head knocks?
In the corks and in the cuts?
Did common sense get pushed aside?
By manliness and guts?
Do you sometimes sit and wonder
Why your time would often pass
In a tangled mess of bodies
With your head up someone’s......?
With a thumb hooked up your nostril
Scratching gently on your brain
And an overgrown Neanderthal
Rejoicing in your pain!
Mate – you must recall the jersey
That was shredded into rags
Then the soothing sting of Dettol
On a back engraved with tags!
It’s almost worth admitting
Though with some degree of shame
That your wife was right in asking
Why the hell you played the game?
Why you’d always rock home legless
Like a cow on roller skates
After drinking at the clubhouse
With your low down drunken mates
Then you’d wake up – check your wallet
Not a solitary coin
Drink Berocca by the bucket
Throw an ice pack on your groin
Copping Sunday morning sermons
About boozers being losers
While you limped like Quasimodo
With a half a thousand bruises!
Yes – an urge to hug the porcelain
And curse Sambuca’s name
Would always pose the question
Why the hell you played the game!
And yet with every wound re-opened
As you grimly reminisce it
Comes the most compelling feeling yet
God, you bloody miss it!
From the first time that you laced a boot
And tightened every stud
That virus known as rugby
Has been living in your blood
When you dreamt it when you played it
All the rest took second fiddle
Now you’re standing on the sideline
But your hearts still in the middle
And no matter where you travel
You can take it as expected
There will always be a breed of people
Hopelessly infected
If there’s a teammate, then you’ll find him
Like a gravitating force
With a common understanding
And a beer or three, of course
And as you stand there telling lies
Like it was yesterday old friend
You’ll know that if you had the chance
You’d do it all again
You see – that’s the thing with rugby
It will always be the same
And that, I guarantee
Is why the hell you played the game!

By Rupert McCall

Credit: Sutton & Epsom Bs

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