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http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/sp...y/news-story/dc5f1f2163a205dedccb8aaf596b6e96
It was always a good sign when Terry Randall, coming from down low, went up under somebody's ribcage and left them, moments later, on the ground twitching.
The twitch was good. It meant they were still alive.
"I hit a bloke at Cootamundra one day in a trial," he says. "I thought I'd killed him."
He can't remember the bloke's name or even the team, and forget about the score.
But he remembers every detail about the man.
He was about six-foot-one in the old scale, had a beard and played front row, weighed about 100kg and he had this beautiful upright running style - beautiful for Randall, because it was this bloke's near-fatal mistake.
"I used to love 'em running upright," he says.
"You could get up under the ribcage, using your body as a launch, as a weapon."
This day, nothing moved when the big bloke hit the deck.
He just went thud like a slab of beef would when dropped from a meat truck, and his teammates came in with their chests puffed out as if they were going to do something masculine, when everybody in the opposition knew they weren't, and Randall stood there like men do when they conquer others.