A Day in the Life of a Travelling Reserve- As told by Will Cliff

In Greek mythology Sisyphus was a former King of Corinth who dreamed of being immortal, he would frequently attempt to trick the Greek Gods and coerce them into awarding him his wish of never dying.

As punishment for his crimes, Sisyphus was sentenced with rolling a boulder up a hill in Tartarus, over and over again, for eternity. Each time Sisyphus completed his task and hauled the boulder to the top of the hill it would roll back down, restarting his task. Sisyphus was granted his wish of immortality, but in the process was condemned with a brutal infinity of scrupulous and monotonous repetition. Over time the fable of Sisyphus became a philosophical metaphor for human nihilism, put simply, continually doing something difficult for no reason and for no real gain.

Some 4000 years later and across the continent in Manchester, Will Cliff is not too unlike Sisyphus as he laces his boots before Sale Sharks fixture against Saracens.

Will has played over 200 games for Sale Sharks but today he is a travelling reserve and will warm-up with the squad in case of a last-minute injury but barring this eventuality, will not play in the match. Just like the former King of Corinth rolling his boulder to the top of the hill, only for it to roll down again, Will’s hard work today will not see his name written across the headlines of tomorrow’s back page.

It is not impossible, of course, for a last-minute injury to occur. In 2017 Harlequins player-coach Adam Jones was preparing for a cushy afternoon in the coaches box before Joe Marler tweaked his calf in the warmup, forcing Jones to rush to hurriedly change into playing kit to take his place on the bench, eventually playing 20 minutes in a 29-26 win.

So, what does a day look like for a ‘TR’, as they are known in the business.

2.30pm: Warmup

“You go through all the same build-up as the guys who are playing, but you probably aren’t as focused, you’re probably a level below.

“But as soon as you’ve got your kit on and you start warming up, you’re fully focused because now your job is to help prepare the guys who are playing.

“In that moment it is no different to if you are playing.

“It is after the warmup when the rest of the lads go in and you stay out to do some extra fitness and it hits you that you aren’t playing because everyone has made it through the warmup.

“Eventually you head back in and you see the mascots all lined up ready and the fans are buzzing and the flags are waving and that’s the point where you go – ‘I’d love to be playing, I wish it was me running out today’”.

Will now takes his place on the bench alongside the other TRs, separate from the substitutes to watch the first half. Despite having the best seats in the house, he can’t shake the burning feeling that every professional sportsperson has when they watch their team play a big game without them.

Is there a small part of him that wishes Gus Warr or Raffi Quirke had got a knock in the warmup so he could step into the team?

“No there actually isn’t. When I was younger and I was chomping at the bit- yes, and it has happened before to me.

“These days, obviously I really want to play, but there’s no part of me that’s thinking ‘I hope someone goes down here’ simply because I am less prepared than they are.

“In the week I know I’ll be a TR so I’ve been running around as a Saracens player, so I’m not as prepared on the detail of our plays.

“The night before you do everything you should, you eat your pre-match meal and you get an early night, but you know in your head you’re not as prepared as you could be.

“If someone had fallen out, I would have sat for the whole first half catching up on our plays, but it is not ideal.”

3.45pm: Half-time

While the crowd simmers and slowly disperses for a quick toilet, beer and hot dog detour and fans are invited on the field for a half-time kicking contest, the TRs make their lonely trudge round the field.

With a lack of coaches, who are inside grilling the playing 23, there is a visible lethargy with which the TRs complete their customary kick and pass drills.

Will puts up a bomb kick for fellow TR Byron McGuigan as a wry cackle ripples around the crowd due to a particularly poor and comical effort at winning an LED TV in the kicking contest.

4.45pm: Full-time

Sale run out rampant 35-22 victors over the league-leaders, the baying audience maintain their volume as the players lap up the love in their post-match lap of honour.

Will goes with them and smiles as he catches up with old friends on the partition between player and fan.

But it is not the same, he describes, as if you had starred in the spectacle, if you had scored the winning try or simply put your 100% into pushing the team over the line.

That is the life of a TR, a constant slightly diluted, watered downed taste in your mouth, when you really want the full flavour experience. Doing the work for little reward.

However, those of the philosophical persuasion will know that the story of Sisyphus is not one of tragedy or despair. In 1942 the French philosopher Camu wrote an interpretation in which Sisyphus beat the Gods by finding a sick, sadistic pleasure in his task, realising he had no other choice.

Just as Will finds pleasure in ensuring Gus Warr is fully prepared for a hard fixture.

“Especially for someone like me who’s had a long career, you feel responsible for making sure the younger lads are 100%, as fully prepared as they can be.

“Before every game I’ll work with the other nines and I’m there for whatever they need. I’ll put pressure on their kicks I’ll kick for them to catch.

“The lads will be well prepared but if you see something as the game starts to unfold, you’ll tap one of the boys on the back and tell them ‘There’s space in the back left corner, or that opposition nine is slow on his box-kick you can charge him down’.

“You have to take some pride in helping them be ready.”