THE SPORTSGROUND

Taranaki Daily News, 5 October 1929, Page 17 (Supplement)

THE SPORTSGROUND

AFTERNOON AT THE PARK

(By

“Juvenis.”)

Three -hills enclose the flat, ■ -green arena of the. New Plymouth park sportsgrdurid,. forriiihg three sides of ft square.'At' intervals up the faces of the r hills ledges have been .cut ■ but carrying 1 long; wooden seats. .From these seat's one looks down ivith an. unbroken;;yieiv and the .ground is compact like a -chess- .. board. The afternoon sun" streams ori the . eastern terrace, -arid there is not a breath of wind. ' Far below* is the broad vSWeep of the trim, fresh- tuff. It is. ail / Very reminiscent of a Roman amphi- - -theatre. ■•’ ■ • ' ■•’■' /. ■ 7 . People are crammed - along the. terraces, and from the distance form is • submerged in colour. -They . look -like jars of jelly on ; a pantry's shelves. Smoke drifts up in a blue -haze from many pipes, and here and there a gay parasol repulses the too ardent sun. A' shrill whistle pici'ces/tlie ai/, and ■ two teams line out and cheer each other -heartily. Th*e players drop into tlieir positions, stretching :thcir .legs, ex- . changing brief remarks or /yawning with nervousness. They are keyed up, waiting to be released, and-remind you of,, fretting . horses at the tapes. .. The whistle blows again, and the ball flies into the air. The forwards race dowii the field, while the’ people' pn the terraces crane their'necks and begin to. shout. ' ’■’ ' ' . [; : . „■/. it is interesting to stand along the . rail below 'the western- terrace, where you can s'ce more easily the queer mixture of your neighbours. "There is a man by me with the .long neck and round head of a' chicken and a restless epiglottis. . He. , nourishes a bittter hatred against the referee, which finds an outlet in a continuous flow of saF- / donic enquiries. On the; other side is- ail indigent, fellow with a red,nose arid the gentle ;odour of; a perambulating bar. As I light a. cigarette, he tells jrie it, will be a good ghme to-day. - By the way, could I lend hirii a match? I lend hiih a- match. * /. ‘; ' ' _ ’ All round the ground, a spurious companionship springs out of this , common . interest in the game. The barriers are flown, arid for the moment a perfect democracy exists. The rythm of a‘ ; pass; ing movement from the base of the scrum to the . wings gives ' identical pleasure to- the -financier and the labourer. The ’ forward/passing rusli, which spreads open like a fan, delights both the bookmaker arid the minister. ‘ A five,-eighths, springing off .his toes, takes''the ball cleanly - with outstretched hands and stabs through the defence. With only the full-back to pass* he swerves but the full-back dives- at his thighs, ’clasps --and drags ■ .him down; “Played, played !V we cry. Red nose turns to me. “A great piece of work,-” ■ he says, and I agree*. Silence while he wistfully; twirls .the -match between his fingers. -At length he speaks. --. “You couldn’t spare a cigarette, could : you,-mister?” , * , /■ ■ ■ Stupid :of- me not to have’ thought / of it before. /. ,- ' -'? The sun has slipped behind the- hill, and the ground is in the shadow., The clean jerseys of the teams’are blotched with dirt, and every-action 6f the play; ers has become a conscious effort.' Coats are buttoned tightly, but the air nips our ears. ‘ It is becoming late, and the home team is still two points behind. ( We anxiously consult our watches and .guess how long there is to go, “It 'is all over,” says my long-necked neighbour. “The bell will ring any minute now.” ■With the air of a man who sacrifices everything to duty," the time-keeper has put his hand on the- bell. But it is not all over. There is ft shout which swells to a deep roar. The ball, kicked to the line, is dropping short. Number 13, legs and arms flying, takes it on the full, and speeds for . an opening to the .corner. One tackler is shaken off; another falls,like a log from a fend. The runner .goes, over riear: the flag amid a tangled mass of bodies. Number .13 has scored. The kick is taken and the., bell rings. • . /■ My neighbour is immensely excited. He cheers, hoarsely, aud his epiglottis is in a .perfect fever. As Nuriiber ,13 walks off the field with his companions, my friend can- restrain himself no longer. • ■ “Oh, you beauty!” he cries. “You little’beauty!” . ... ‘ Number 13'looks up, and I glimpse his face. It is, possibly, the most singularly ’ repulsive countenance I have ever seen.’ •