Who Knew Rugby Could Be So Complicated?

Minis

Another day of coaching my mini team. I love my job, majority of the time. Today was first practice of the season. Which training for the youngers ones always started later in the year because of the season is shorter for them. Under 5's, of course it was only tag rugby so not as gruelling and eventful as rugby. But the smiles and giggles got me through the training session.

Some of the kids were returning from the previous season not old enough to go up to the next group. As they walked in, each kid high fived me some even ran up to me and gave me a hug round my legs. This is the real reason I love this job, the way their smiles on their faces radiate as if this is the happiest day of their lives. They always were cheerful and no matter what my mood was when I got to training, by time I left I had the biggest grin on my face. I started practice with a warm up nothing to strenuous of course with them being little. They laughed their way through it as some struggled to keep up or struggled to do the exercise. I smiled as they tried harder and harder. I always tried to make training as fun as possible, with little games like tig or scarecrow.

"Urm excuse me, sorry were late. I didnt realise how bad the traffic was around here" she let out a small fake laugh, but I turned to find a slim tall blonde lady such a perfect figure. Her accent was definitely not from around here and she was definitely one of the posher mums, you could always tell which ones were the posh stuck up ones, I like to call them Karen's. They always question my training.  "I need to enrol my son into this programme" I nodded and instructed the kids to grab a ball and start practice passing, which of course ended up with balls all over the field.  I grabbed the forms and asked her to sign up with all the boring parent consent forms.

"What's your name?" I asked the shy little boy, who hid behind his mothers leg, as his mother filled out the form "Oliver" "Hey Oliver, I'm Amelia" we hi-fived as I did with the other kids. "There all the forms filled out, is he good to go?" She pushed the papers into my hands. I scanned over them and nodded as there was a frustrated tone in her voice. "I'll pick you up in an hour honey, be good!" As she kissed the boy on the forehead, who immediately wiped it off. I lead Oliver to train with the other kids and introduced him. He got on so well with the other kids and he fit in already. He was shy at first but he found his feet eventually. 

I read over the forms double checking I had everything I needed. Reading down quickly until I a line caught my eye. My heart started racing, this cant be happening surely. The line read 'father: Owen Farrell' no surely not, it can't be. I'm sure there's many other Owen Farrell's in the world. But looking at Oliver, you could see the resemblance. Not a chance I shook the idea out of my head. It's just a coincidence. He wouldn't be living here anyway! I'm pretty sure he lives London way?

Practice was over before we knew it, as a lot of sweaty red faced kids said bye. I was left with Oliver. Typical late to practice late picking up. She was going to be one of them mums as I rolled my eyes with the thought of it. When she finally picked him up she was apologetic and hoped he wasn't much trouble. Of course he wasn't, the kid was good as gold. She climbed into her posh black estate car as Oliver waved out the window to me as he shouted "see you next week, Amelia! Thank you" he definitely found his feet. One of the older ones shown him what we were doing.

The boy was so sweet and full of energy. How could a woman as snobby and stuck up as that have such a sweet innocent kid? I always wonder, how the snobby parents actually bring up their children. If that is Owen Farrells kid, is he as snobby as the mother? I've seen him play a few times and he does seem quite aggressive on the pitch. But is that just the captain talking or is that really him?

When I got home, I googled (like a stalker) 'Owen Farrell Child' and bingo a picture of Oliver came up. It confirmed all my suspicions, there are no such things as just a coincidence. But why is he living here? No way I can not be coaching his son. I scrolled through twitter, of course I followed all the latest rugby headline pages.  2 hours ago. 'Like Father like Son' with a picture of Oliver and his mother leaving the stadium. I read the article and it read;
'Oliver Farrell to be following in fathers footsteps as he leaves practice lead by England Women's Rugby top conversion scorer Amelia Smith'

No pressure now is there?