An Insight

Orfeu, among others, has been asking what makes me tick. I have already shared one rugby story with you, and here is another.

One wet and windy Welsh Wednesday afternoon (mmm, do you like the assonant alliteration - you can almost hear the northerly blowing down the valley bringing the stair-rod rain from Scandinavia) I was playing a match against our local rivals. Their full back (Americans - think punt returner) was a blowhard braggart, and had been drunkenly sounding off in one of the local hostelries over the weekend about how they were going to take us to pieces.

First time I got the ball, I kicked it high and mighty, spiralling up in the air so that it would land right on him without him having to move. I had warned our two fast, hard tackling centre threequarters (Americans - think linebackers) what I was going to do, and as the would-be hero caught the ball he was hit high and low, almost cutting him in two. He could not help but fumble the ball, and, strolling up behind my dogs of war, I picked it up and planted it over the line for a try (Americans - think touchdown).

I then spent the rest of the afternoon watching where the "target" was standing, making sure he knew I was monitoring his position, and NOT actually kicking it towards him. As the game went on he positioned himself more and more so that he was actually hiding as far out of my range as possible, and at the end of the game he was a nervous wreck, he had worried so much that he was going to get a second chance to be made a fool of. It was like playing a team who were a man short. We won by a distance, of course

The main maxim of battle may be "Do whatever it is that your enemy doesn't want you to do" but sometimes it is more effective to make him worry that you are going to do exactly that, but keep him - or her - waiting in such suspense that their effectiveness evaporates. THEN do it - if you actually need to.