He weaved left, deftly dodging the cumbersome tackler diving towards him. The rain lashing down upon his face and ball, clutched tightly into the palm of his hand. Upon the dirty white edging of the field stood a small, shivering man, huddled deeply into the lining of his trench coat yet still with his eyes locked on the movement of the promising young rugby palyer before him.

The flanker dodged another tackle, gliding past the falling boy with ease. The line barely 20 metres away, he looked set for his 3rd try of the game, surely enough to win him the trial invitation from the scout on the touch-line, of whom he was vaguely aware.

Only the full-back now stood in his way. The flanker grinned, his victory was at hand. He pumped his legs furiously to accelerate and soon he was at a speed that belied his enormous, yet athletic size. The full-back ducked low, as if cowering before evil given form. He closed his eyes, anticipating injury from the impact of the flanker and inhaled slowly, giving rise to the steely resolve bubbling within his gut.

The hit could be heard from every corner of the pitch and soon everyone knew that something had gone horribly wrong. The tackler lay strewn through the mud, his posture still clenched from the moment of impact. However all eyes gazed upon the prostate form of the flanker, blood now running through the pools of water surrounding him and his hand that was rapidly running down the side of his leg.

His fingers found the edge of the torn flesh and he screamed. His head raised swiftly studying the damage that had been done. Fragments of bone now protruded from around his knee, dark crimson blood gushing from the multiple wounds. He screamed again, people came rushing across the water-logged pitch, sliding and sloshing through the ankle deep mud. The boy could see his ankle twisted, far beyond the limits of human tolerance, now lifeless, unwilling to respond to his commands.

Soon the parents and coaches arrived at his side and their screams of horror mixed with his. Calls for help, dialled rapidly were made by the dozen and comfort was found by the presence of his father. Yet he felt alone,  through the searing pain that his dream of professional sport was over and that he would be lucky to still have the use of both his legs by the morning.