Just a poem today, folks.

Rob Burrow, a top-flight Rugly Leauge player who was diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease in 2019, sadly died yesterday. He was 41 years old.

Together with his friend Kevin Sinfield, Rob raised millions of pounds for clinical research and patient support services.

He waved the flag for all of us with MND, whilst going through the horrors of the disease himself.

From the moment I heard this poem in a film many years ago, it stayed with me. I thought it was breathtaking.

I hope it’s a fitting tribute to the legend that is Rob Burrow.

To an Athlete Dying Young

The time you won your town the race

We chaired you through the market-place;

Man and boy stood cheering by,

And home we brought you shoulder-high.

Today, the road all runners come,

Shoulder-high we bring you home,

And set you at your threshold down,

Townsman of a stiller town.

Smart lad, to slip betimes away

From fields where glory does not stay,

And early though the laurel grows

It withers quicker than the rose.

Eyes the shady night has shut

Cannot see the record cut,

And silence sounds no worse than cheers

After earth has stopped the ears.

Now you will not swell the rout

Of lads that wore their honours out,

Runners whom renown outran

And the name died before the man.

So set, before its echoes fade,

The fleet foot on the sill of shade,

And hold to the low lintel up

The still-defended challenge-cup.

And round that early-laurelled head

Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,

And find unwithered on its curls

The garland briefer than a girl’s.