RUGBY DIARY:Next weekend will be our last home game . . . It'll be the end of an era because, when this season is over, several players head for pastures new.

THERE IS no doubt professional sportspeople are a privileged caste for a variety of reasons and one fringe benefit is the number of invitations to events, across a broad spectrum. The key, where possible, is to be discerning rather than simply available. It is not a maxim adopted by all as there are one or two individuals who would find themselves in the same sentence as the words envelope and opening.

There are times when players are obliged to fulfil corporate duties and, like any profession, these are generally enjoyable, occasionally less so. Then there are invitations of a more social context and I was fortunate to attend the opening of a restaurant, Bistro du Vin in London recently as a guest of the Rugby Players Association (RPA); it’s the British equivalent to IRUPA.

It was a lavish affair and, not to put too fine a point on it, I was exposed to some wonderful fine dining: t-bone steaks, oysters, lobsters, scallops, a designated cheese room, a dessert room, a room in which they served single malt whiskey (for the record I didn’t darken the doorway of the latter) and all on offer for the delectation of the guests. It’s a miracle I am as svelte as I am.

We at London Irish have a deal with the Gaucho restaurant in which we get 25 per cent off. What none of us is bright enough to realise is that the Argentine steakhouse is the main beneficiary in real terms as we eat about 10 times as much as we would because we’re getting a discount.

The RPA occasionally set up networking meetings in which players can meet people from a variety of professions including legal, financial etc.

The RPA would e-mail a list of who is attending the event and players would indicate to whom they’d like to speak. The union would then make the introductions.

It’s an opportunity to look beyond a rugby career but it’s not always as seamless an arrangement as it would appear at face value. Players get suited and booted and then travel up to the city to periodically be confronted by people who are intent on discussing the finer points of a three pod lineout system. It can make for some interesting if unfulfilling cross purpose chats. Time is limited on both sides and it’s important to get the most out of these events.

Players who are coming closer to the end of their careers have a keener appreciation of planning for the future so they invest more time, usually on days off, in establishing contacts and searching out opportunities for a life without rugby. As an aside, and speaking of days off, London Irish strength conditioning coach Allan Ryan provides an important golden ticket once a year in avoiding Christmas shopping duties.

In written form he underlines to each player than a day off means exactly that and does not include going Christmas shopping. Players pin that up in a prominent place at home for the benefit of wives, girlfriends and partners.

There’s no doubt that rugby players gravitate towards the same places to while away the hours. Where I live in St Margaret’s there is a local delicatessen called Zoran’s and on any given morning it will be populated by half a dozen to a dozen players from London Irish, Harlequins and Wasps clubs. The owner, the aforementioned Zoran, doesn’t take any chances and has all three jerseys mounted in the shop.

He tells me London Irish are his favourite team but I’d imagine the message isn’t much different when he’s in conversation with Ugo Monye or Riki Flutey. He’s never short of tickets for a rugby match but usually only pops along to Twickenham or The Stoop as he lives nearby.

It’s funny to watch the dynamic, appreciably feminine in outlook, attached to ordering coffee and a bite to eat; if one player orders a latte then most will follow suit and the same applies to a muffin. If one player, egged on by his mates, orders one, then the rest follow suit but if no one takes the first step, then it’ll be a muffin-less experience.

We used to play a game called ‘Scategories’, in which one person would silently run through the alphabet and when asked to stop he’d call out a letter. The other person would then have to name a country, city, car, professional basketball team, fruit, vegetable etc beginning with the letter. Who said we’re not clever. It was great fun and quiet competitive because naturally there was a forfeit.

The loser would have to introduce a word chosen by his fellow players into a team meeting. I remember Peter Richards standing up and suggesting that he would not let their number seven ‘terrorise’ our halfbacks. There were knowing smiles from some in the room.

Mind you we did have the case of one player who refused to mention ‘ambiguous’ at a team meeting because he believed it not to be a real word. Now you go into a café and players are all on their iPhones, gaming. It’s definitely more anti-social but symptomatic of the times. Maybe I’m just getting old.

We have a ‘Joke of the Week’ – comedic timing is essential but sadly not also present – which is keenly contested and we also have our own version of the Spin the Wheel, which involves a fines system for, say, being late or wearing the wrong kit. A player may spin a wheel and on it there’ll be a variety of options including doubling the original fine right down to getting off. The only difference to this and the television version is that no one brings teddy bears or good luck messages.

At this time of the year, players can be found doing an extra 10 arm curls or putting in an additional session at the ab-clinic to get the guns ready for the beach. The odd younger player has even been known to go on a sun-bed claiming our nutritionist Matt Lovell said he’d been looking a little peaky and needed more Vitamin D.

Next weekend will be our last home game irrespective of whether we make the playoffs as we won’t finish in the top two of the league proper. It’ll be the end of an era because, when this season is over, several players head for pastures new. We’ll mark the occasion with a hog roast in a player’s house, a poignant occasion for those of us who are staying as well as the players departing.