Quote

I found this cracking quote, (as a flyhalf) and wondered if anyone could help me with the source of it?

"Son, we play a game that has Garryowens. And those Garryowens have to be caught by men with balance. Who's gonna do it? You? You, slow lumbering forwards? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for the maul and you curse the backs. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what we do: that forwards in a pile, while funny, saves us from getting dirty. And my sidestep, while hypnotic and incomprehensible to you, probably pays your wages? You don't want the ball. Because deep down, in places you don't talk about in the club bar, you want me under that Garryowen. You need me under that Garryowen. We use words like speed, handling, angles. We use these words as the backbone to a game spent attacking the try line. You use each other as punchbags. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the points I provide, then questions the manner in which I score them! I'd rather you just said thank you and grunted on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a ball and try a left-handed pass. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you're entitled to, that's my ball."

Jack Nicholson

jim telfer

You can't handle the truth etc

Hmmm. "Garryowens" clearly places it geographically in the northern hemisphere.

The English is far too eloquent to be a Frenchman....I'm struggling to think of a Scot who could catch a Garryowen... a Welshman with a speed, angles and handling skills, and I also can't think of an English back who could pay the wages of a forward with his points scoring (if it said, "I need to take those catches so I can bang over a droppie, fair enough).

So I conclude he must've been Irish.

Am I getting warm?

"Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Whose gonna do it? You? You, Lt. Weinburg? I have more responsibility here than you could possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago, and you curse the marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That Santiago's death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And that my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. I know deep down in places you dont talk about at parties, you don't want me on that wall, you need me on that wall. We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom I provide, then question the manner in which I provide it. I prefer you said thank you, and went on your way, Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon, and stand to post. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to!"

A few good men...

I prefer the bit where he talks about blow jobs.