Sixty years is a long time for a memory to stay warm, yet the rugby of my schooldays at Royal College has never cooled. It lives in me with a clarity that defies age – its pinnacle being the Blue Riband of Sri Lanka’s schools rugby, the Bradby Shield encounters.
In the 1966 season, when many of us were barely aware of the world beyond our classrooms, I felt entrusted with a legacy that stretched back decades. This year carries a special symmetry: the 80th Bradby encounter is being played at a time when I turn 80, marking 60 years since I took the field in the Bradby Shield games of 1966.
To play in the Bradby was never merely to compete; it was to inherit a tradition. I believe it is the dream of every young Royalist to take the field at a Bradby Encounter, to feel the weight of past victories and old heartbreaks pressing gently on one’s shoulders.
Even now, when I close my eyes, I can see the touchlines crowded with faces, hear the restless murmur of expectation, and feel the quiet resolve that settled over us as we prepared to write our own small chapters in that long, proud story – a story that marks its 80th encounter on 11 July.
The journey to that sacred turf
My own journey to that sacred turf, however, began long before I ever touched a rugby ball. It began in 1958, when I first entered the hallowed precincts of Royal College as a wide-eyed 12-year-old.
Rugby football, at that tender age, was utterly alien to our young minds. With two God-given legs, the only measure that mattered was how fast they could carry you. My world revolved around running and the annual Inter-House Sports Meet offered every boy the chance to test his speed.
Year after year, I lined up for the sprints, the 100 and 220 yards, the only events available to us ‘little kids’. Year after year, I returned empty-handed. Yet something in me refused to let go of the chase. Perhaps it was stubbornness, perhaps hope, or perhaps the quiet belief that speed alone was not the only measure of a runner. Everything changed when I reached the Under 16 age group. Suddenly, the short middle-distance event, the 440 yards, opened to us.
It was 1962. I had qualified through the heats and semi-finals and found myself in the final on the day of the annual sports meet. A well-known athlete of that era offered a few precious words of advice: sprint the first bend. Stride the second quarter. Float through the third bend. Then dash for your life down the final straight.
Eight of us came under starter’s orders for the U16 final. I was drawn in the outer lane. As we took our marks, the mantra repeated itself in my mind – sprint, stride, float, dash. The starter called ‘set,’ the gun cracked, and we were off.
The rhythm carried me around the track, each quarter unfolding exactly as I had rehearsed it in my head. When I finally breasted the tape, breathless and disbelieving, I realised I had beaten some of the well-known names of that time. It was my first real victory – not just over others, but over doubt, over hesitation, over the limits I had unknowingly placed on myself.
A prayer answered
It was the beginning of 1966. The A/Levels loomed on the horizon when my dear friend, the late Nizam Jaimon, approached me one day.
“You’re an athlete,” he said. “Why don’t you come for rugby? Captain Mousey (Thurairatnam), who has played wing three-quarter all these years, is moving to centre with me. We need a wing three-quarter.”
To me, that invitation felt like a prayer answered. Rugby would give me something even greater: a sense of belonging. I joined the First 15 practices and began absorbing the finer points of the game.
The high point: Bradby of 1966
The Bradby of 1966 marked the high point of my schoolboy rugby years, a season that began almost by chance and ended by shaping the man I would become. What started as a timely invitation from my friend Nizam soon became a journey of discipline, camaraderie, and discovery.
The season unfolded with its share of triumphs and setbacks. I made my debut as right wing three-quarter against St. Joseph’s in the season opener. A brief and unhappy experiment at scrum-half followed for the game against Wesley, which we won 12-6, before I returned to the wing for a convincing 16-0 win over St. Anthony’s, where I twisted my ankle but stubbornly played on.
I was sidelined by the injury for the next game against Isipathana. After recovering, I rejoined the side for victories over Zahira (6-3) and the more fancied Peterites (9-3), although we stumbled in the Royal-Thomian 0-8, our perennial hoodoo.
Then came 9 July 1966 – the first Bradby at Longden Place. Wearing the blue and gold was a dream fulfilled. Under skipper Indran ‘Mousey’ Thurairatnam, we took the field before a packed crowd. A penalty by Tilak ‘Tikka’ de Silva gave us a 3-0 half-time lead, but Trinity struck back to level the scores. The match ended 3-all.
Two weeks later, we travelled to Bogambara for the return leg. Trinity dominated early, scoring and converting to lead 5-0 at half-time. In the second half, our defence held firm against Trinity stand-off Glen Van Langenberg’s relentless high kicks and at last our three-quarters found space.
Changing tactics, we turned to attack. Off a quick heel, the ball moved from scrum-half C.L.A.K. Perera to stand-off Sanath de Silva, then to skipper Mousey Thurairatnam, and finally to Nizam Jaimon, who drew the defence and sent me on the run.
A sidestep past fullback Shafie Jainudeen and a burst down the flank carried me over the line, with the Trinity third row breathing down my neck. The conversion was astray and TCK still led 5-3. Trinity sealed the match with a late penalty, winning 8-3, but the memory of that try remains one of the finest moments of my youth.
At the conclusion of the game, distinguished Royal College alumnus, Professor E.O.E. Pereira, Vice Chancellor of the University of Ceylon and Founder of the Peradeniya Engineering Faculty, presented the Bradby Shield to Trinity skipper Glen Van Langenberg.
Rugby’s return to my life
Years later, rugby returned to my life in different forms. At the Bank of Ceylon, where I was employed, I played in the Nationalised Services Tournament – Champions in 1973, Runners-Up in 1974, and Champions again in 1975, the year I captained the side.
‘Repaying the debt I owe,’ from 2001 to 2006, I served as the Secretary of the Royal College Union (RCU) Rugby Advisory Committee with former teammate, the late ‘Bulla’ de Silva as Chairman.
Another memorable event was travelling with skipper Zulker Hamid’s champion/record-breaking Royal College Rugby Team as Manager on a historic tour of Australia in November 2002.
A legacy beyond my own playing days
Yet rugby also gave me a legacy that extended far beyond my own playing days. What I did not foresee in those schoolboy years was that my own moment on the Bradby stage would one day become the starting point of a family tradition.
Perhaps a touch of my genes found its way into the next generation, for my elder son Reza went on to captain the college Under 17 side in 1992, including the Simithraaratchy Trophy encounters. He later graduated to the First 15, representing Royal in the 50th Bradby Encounters in 1994 and again in 1995.
The continuity of the Rahims in Royal rugby grew even stronger when my second son, Dinesh, donned the blue-and-gold jersey in the subsequent Bradby games of 1996, 1997, 1998, and 1999, captaining the side in his final year. With the three of us having played in Bradby encounters across different eras, we joined a small band of fathers and two sons to represent Royal on that storied stage.
The rugby journey of Reza and Dinesh extended beyond school with both earning honours representing the Sri Lanka Junior National Team at the Junior Rugby Asiads – Reza in 1995 (Taiwan) and Dinesh in the 1996 and 1997 editions (Hong Kong and Taiwan).
Thirty-two years after my own Bradby try, Dinesh scored the opening try of the 1998 second leg – and yes, in Bogambara – making us only the second father-and-son pair to score in the Bradby for Royal. Norman Gunawardena and his son Ajit were the first to achieve this distinction. When Ajit’s son Revan crossed the line in the second leg of 2006, a remarkable lineage was completed: father, son, and grandson touching down in the Bradby. Some traditions will truly stand the test of time.
The Bradby Shield is passed from hand to hand each year. But the true shield, the one forged in memory, remains with me still. For in sport, as in life, the first whistle is never blown on the field. It is blown in the heart – long before anyone else!