A casual interloper that strayed through the gates of Anglesea Road yesterday might have believed that the Lilliputians were not a figment of Jonathan Swift's imagination. The evidence was compelling, tiny frames, delicate miniature people cast as far as the eye could see, running, walking, pushing, pulling, laughing and crying.
Distinguishing one from another could only be achieved by way of the tribal loyalties, multi-coloured jerseys that bespoke the combatants' origin. On closer examination though, despite the cries of rip it, fan out, skip pass, all exhortations of the adult game, it became obvious that the participants were not sawn off adults but young children.
Anglesea Road, bathed in brilliant sunshine, was host to the Bord Gais Old Belvedere Annual mini-rugby blitz, an event that catered for young children in three age categories, under-7, under-8 and under-9. Thirty-six teams took part from 16 clubs, from established rugby bloodlines like Lansdowne, Blackrock and St Mary's to smaller clubs like Navan, Gorey, Barnhall, Coolmine, Naas and St Brigid's.
And whisper it, there were girls playing too. It is perhaps the only occasion in a seven-year-old boy's life that he will willingly, without parental pressure, hug a girl. The fairer sex had no problems coping with the rough and tumble of competition and in several cases proved more adept than many around them.
The enthusiasm, determination, laughter and tears - and that was just the parents - offered an engaging backdrop to the on field action. There was a great purity to the endeavour, lacking the guile of their elders, the participants told it like it was: "You're crap and we're going to beat ya."
Thankfully there weren't too many examples of the wrong kind of stimulus, the put downs and careless words of overbearing parents. Instead most simply looked on proudly, win or lose, whether their son or daughter was star or stagehand.
There were lessons too for the senior national side, most notably the appreciation of space. Show an eight-year-old a mass of bodies and he will try and run around rather than through them. The only way that the combatants betrayed their immaturity was when they were offered a choice between a creatine soaked refreshing isotonic drink and a lollipop. You just wish they had done more research into artificial colouring . . .
The finals were scheduled for 1.15 p.m. and as the time drew nearer pockets of grass could be seen on the three pitches as numbers dwindled and teams headed for the bar, replete with stories of what might have been and promises of coke. As it should be.
