10:31am Saturday 8th March 2008
By David Craven
What to do when you've a few hours to kill in Perpignan. Erm, what about training with the Bulls?
Big mistake. Having ingested about 8,000 calories already - the bread and those little cakey things really are nice over here - I took up Steve McNamara's offer to have a little run around with
Bradford yesterday.
I wasn't sure whether they just wanted to use me as a human tackle bag, which would have been understandable for any player I might have given five out of ten to last week, or they were simply being
polite to a fellow Englishman lost in foreign climes.
Anyway, I put on my kit and tried to look professional, knowing I was already in too deep.
Having warmed up with the squad, and worryingly breaking a little too much sweat already, I joined David Solomona who is making his own personal return to fitness after a knee injury.
The side went to do their team run and I was pitted alongside the big Kiwi for a cardio session with the club doctor.
It wasn't pretty. Forty minutes later, desperately trying to avoid puking in front of the Bulls, it dawned on me why I never became a professional rugby player. And I'll never take the Michael out of
them again. The end.
Now, I wonder if I can make use of the club masseur as well cos I'm aching like...
© Copyright 2001-2012 Newsquest Media Group
http://www.thetelegraphandargus.co.uk/trade_directory/