This probably saved my life when I was a skinny 15 year old. Had Sunday dinner when the doorbell rang. It was the captain of the town's 1st and only XV. They were one short. I agreed to play. Left wing as I was left footed and fast but not much else. Arrive at the nearby pitch(cow dung and all) to find that all of my team-mates were still in varying degrees of drunkenness having been at a party the night before. We were playing Edenderry whose reputation for fair play was only a rumour. Anyway my sights were set on getting through the 80 minutes uninjured.This was going well for a while as a winger rarely saw the ball at that level even with sober team-mates. However my defining moment was soon to occur for which my family have never allowed me forget in the many intervening years. A high ball was heading in my direction. I weighed up the situation in a flash. Catch it and I would be engulfed by the Edenderry pack. Fractured ribs and worse crossed my mind. The ball appeared to slowly descend out of the sky. I ran to meet it. Like I said what happened in the next few seconds has never been forgotten. Some have described my actions as sheer cowardice but I prefer the version where I acted in a manner that was way before my time. I accelerate towards the descending ball, my mind was made up, instead of doing the orthodox thing and catch it, I volley it with my sturdy left foot back from whence it came. Of course I chase it but such was the distance it went I didn't even get the chance to tackle the recipient! The game ended. We lost 44-0, but I had survived. Footnote: After many years of taunting my tactic achieved the status of vindication in my eyes when a couple of years ago I saw a French international winger do the same thing in a HC match. That was worth waiting for....nearly.