We had a brilliant turnout of girls aged 8–14, all arriving with a mix of excitement, nerves, and the kind of energy usually only seen in squirrels after three espressos. Some came ready to become the next rugby superstar. Others looked like they’d been told they were attending a tax seminar by mistake.

The session focus was catching and passing basics. Simple enough in theory. In reality, I spent the evening watching rugby balls travel in every direction except the intended one. At one point I’m fairly sure one pass achieved orbit. NASA may contact us soon.

We started with some fun warm-up games, which immediately revealed two things:

1. Every child under 14 can run faster than me.
2. Cones are apparently irresistible targets for destruction.

Then came the skill zones for passing technique, there were moments of genuine brilliance too. A few girls picked it up incredibly quickly, zipping passes down the line like seasoned pros. Others developed a more “creative interpretation” of passing, including:

- the basketball chest-launch,
- the panicked grenade toss,
- and the personal favourite: “close eyes and hope.”

Catching practice also had its moments. I gave the classic coaching advice:
“Hands up towards the ball to caych it.”, which was immediately followed by three girls watching the ball directly into their forehead.

We had two “Ask The Coach Anything” water breaks, which I expected would involve rugby questions. Foolish of me. Instead I was asked:

- “Do you play a musical instrumentl?”
- “Can rugby players eat McDonald’s?”
- “Have you ever been knocked unconscious?”
- “Why are rugby shorts so short?”
- and, alarmingly, “How old are you REALLY?”

I answered bravely, although I’m still emotionally recovering from being called “basically ancient.”

The best part of the night, though, was seeing confidence grow. Girls who arrived shy and quiet were laughing, joining in, and giving things a go by the end. Even the ones convinced they “couldn’t do rugby” were diving into games and celebrating catches like they’d just won the World Cup.

By the end of the session everyone was sweaty, smiling, and absolutely exhausted — including the coaches, who now need approximately four business days to recover.

Week One is complete. Nobody cried, nobody broke anything important, and at least half the rugby balls ended up where they were supposed to. I’m calling that a massive success, and the best part is, you can still register to take part!

Roll on Week Two. I’m bringing extra cones… and possibly a helmet or two.