An ode to the Heath Vets
And did those feet, of Heath Veterans
Run out onto Brighton's Waterhall
And did Kev McDonald, with poorly ribs
Lead his men with Holy oval ball
And did Brighton, and Shoreham Vets
Play their parts and played them well.
And was Sussex Vets resurrected here
And left with brothers and tales to tell.

Bring me my Chewy, of advancing years
Matt Duncan running lines of desire
Bring me my Emmett. The lump himself.
Gordy spitting words of fire.
I will not knock-on, nor forward pass
Nor be 'accidental offside'
Till we have fought the fight
In Sussex's green and pleasant land.

On a barmy Friday October evening, as the sun set slowly over Brighton's Waterhall pitch one, the floodlights illuminated the field of battle.

The superstitious, may have looked at Friday the 13th as a fixture date and wondered if Darwinian selection had reached the Sussex coast. Players old, and older, playing on a Friday evening after work - many after many years of not playing. Sussex Ambulance Trust was put on notice.

Men of advancing years, long in the tooth, hair thinning and greying, linked arms brother-to-brother to battle the return Veteran's match of Heath v's Brighton and Shoreham.
Despite an early teamsheet showing strength in depth and promising a bench of plenty, a final sixteen turned up meaning Kev McDonald not only was coach, but player-coach-captain and had to play the full sixty (10 minutes knocked off each half to ensure no unnecessary strain being placed on the NHS). This was against his wife's strict instructions, so no-one tell her OK.

Brighton and Shoreham combined fielded a large team, both in depth and body size. At this stage of life, the beer and curry's do show the effects, especially in tight fitting polyester shirts. Unfortunately, lack of 'qualified' front-row meant that scrums were uncontested, which lead to Heath's own man mountain, Emmett, practically popping a head-vein or two in anger and disappointment.

Heath's front row of Emmett, Chewy and Grimbo added up to over 150 years - with Chewy making up the bulk of the experience. Gordy, ever passionate, with Chris Sherwood forming a lightweight but powerful second-row. With Magnus, Virge and Giles making up the back-row, the breakdown looked secure and forwards strong. Oh, how the backs look upon the forwards and wish they had the talent and ability to make it to the hallowed pack.

Mezz was solid at nine, Kev slightly out of place at 10. Having deservedly lost his 12 spot to Matt Duncan and Andy Tomkins making up a strong centre pairing. Simon Elmore, Will Nice and Matt Adrian Twyning disbelieving their years, ligaments, tendons and the law of nature, formed a formidable outside back three. Matt Griggs and Tim Hartley had just coached/ reffed their under 12s as a curtain raiser, and made up a short but experienced bench. With Tim replacing Kev at 10 later, and versatile Matt coming on at 15 and then, much to his delight, joining the pack.

The game kicked off amid the acrid stench of deep-heat, with Heath very quickly into their stride. Despite never playing together (training is for wimps), the team gelled with forward clearing rucks, presenting clean ball and the backs running devastating lines with excellent support. Mezz's kicking from hand, and later from tee, was impeccable throughout.

Early on, Matt (who had lost two and a half stone, we should add) ran a line many others craved, slicing through the defence to score under the posts.

The forwards continued with the hard work, providing clean, quick ball to their diminutive back-brothers, who combined well seeing Adrian stepping inside to score as sweeter than James Bond after a vodka-martini. Shaken, not stirred.

The next score came from inside Heath's own 22, who saw the backs combine well with Andy streaking into Brighton's half more beautifully than Erica Roe, before off loading to Simon, who popped back to Andy to score. A good 75 yard move. Andy picking up his brace a short while later.

Brighton and Shoreham were always going to be tough opposition, and never once did their heads drop or backwards step taken. With some of their bigger boys taking the ball, their advanced years did not show, and rightfully scored at the death of the first half. At half-time 26-5 (or 26-7, I didn't see if the conversion went over as was having an argument with my misaligned ribs at the time).

Second half and Brighton-Shoreham stepped up. Some new young legs took to the field, and played with fluidity. Some ball carriers making hard yards. Heath's defence was breached, and Gordy was having a serious talking to with anyone. As the game entered the dying stages, Heath switched back-on and retained ball. Apart from Will, who squandered a two-on-one chance much to the protestations of his team mates, and earning him the special D.O.T.D. award. In the final minutes Emmett went on a one-man bull-charge and, having popped a shoulder in the contact, the ref called time on proceedings. Heath grinding out a narrow 26-22 win.

After applying copious ice-packs, bandages, deep-heat and multitudes of anti-inflammatories, both teams retired to the Clubhouse to continue bonding over some light refreshments, dodgy karaoke and bagpipes. Suffice to say Vets rugby remains alive and kicking at Heath.