By Bifta (on 03/07/02)
July 4 2002

In this new and hopefully fairly regularly feature Bifta's Diary of the Season, Bifta will give us a look at local amateur rugby aswell his thoughts on the Tykes 2002/03 season. Week 1 - Preseason training

It's July. It's pre-season. If you think the merry go round of professional rugby is hectic, spare a thought for the amateurs at the bottom of the ladder. We played our last club game in the first week of May, after which many club players will have been involved in the numerous sevens tournaments up and down the country. Not me - I don't play sevens anymore - a game for sado-masochists if ever there was one. Great to watch though.

So now, 2 days into July, we're back on the paddock again.

Circulating in the dressing room is the Director of Rugby's training schedule for July. Twice weekly sessions won't start until the middle of the month, good news for those of us who take a week to recover from one. But it's not all good news. That word that strikes fear into the soul of every rugby player is in evidence - endurance. That means running. Lots of it.

It's funny. Despite how much work I have been putting in in the gym since February, the feel of grass under my feet has a debilitating effect on the Bifta psyche, and more to the point, the body. A gentle jog, which I would consider easy on the treadmill, suddenly becomes a lung-bursting ordeal. And that's just the warm-up. From there we move into 3 short sessions, about 5 minutes each, of running, altering the tempo, some work with the ball. To be fair, it's been cleverly designed by the coach, with plenty of recovery time in between each session. It is still going to hurt though.

The first exercise two exercises involve passing the ball, and passing off the floor, which enables us to get nice and wet. This is the point where Bifta realises he has only got one pair of pants, and the rest of the evening is going to be sat in them. Great. The passing exercises give us all a chance, from first team to the dregs, to demonstrate wild inaccuracy and woeful timing. But don't panic, by the first game this will be honed down to only mild inaccuracy.

The next exercise involves running round the pitch, adjusting speed at the sound of the Director's whistle. There is some good natured advice to the Director on where he can stick his whistle, and general merriment when one group gets confused by the system of whistles and belts off while everyone else walks. Nice one.

Herr Director suggests that some of the fitter guys might like to be going "balls out" every now and then. It's at this point that the more alert amongst us realise that Mr. Director has so far done nowt except blow his bleeding whistle, and his suggestion is not made welcome.

At this stage the old back injury, the most regular preseason gripe, starts to flare up. I gracefully withdraw from the session, only two minutes before the star first team player, which is gratifying. Later, I feel fit enough to rejoin, and cunningly infiltrate the forwards group to look quicker. Worryingly, I am still off the pace. Still, it's early doors. Maybe I shouldn't have done a weights session in the afternoon.

Proceedings are brought to a close by the obligatory game of touch and pass, somewhat bizarrely played across the length of the pitch.

A good first session, but the amount of work that needs to be done by September is, as always, frightening. In order to take my mind off it, I shall shortly be disappearing for a pub lunch, followed by a session in the jacuzzi. It's not all work, work, work you know!