Spotted this on Facebook earlier, and never have I identified with anything quite so much.
Memories of Mr Dalton and Mr “Mental” Mantle came flooding back straight away.
Ankle deep in claggy mud on the top field. The slap as the ball hit your cold, wet thigh, and the peach and purple pattern it immediately left behind.
Legally assaulting an opponent by belting the ball directly at them was a completely acceptable – and oft used – tactic. And when faced with the other side weaponising the Mouldmaster, it was imperative that you didn’t back down or “nesh” the challenge. Taking the hit and then carrying on sent a very powerful message. Even if you were weeping internally.
Which you were.
30-something years on, and just the sight of that ball has got my inner thigh tingling.
And not in a good way.
