Nash Bash

Story: Dave Arthur, Pics: Douglas Lee

You might have noticed a few wizened old blokes hobbling around the village lately? Glacially slow at the best of times, their staggering gait is not the result of a new fangled fitness craze for forty pluses or over indulgence in fine wine or cold beer. Well not totally. It’s merely the end product of the traditional heralding of the Golden Oldies (GO) rugby season on the Far North Coast. Yes, the world renowned, much revered, occasionally imitated ‘Nash Bash’ – held on the beating heart of Lennox Head – the magnificent Williams Reserve.

Named in honour of a dear departed founder of the Lennox Head Stags Glen Nash, the event is a fitting tribute to man who loved community and, along with a few like-minded souls, did something about it! Better still that his son Jack was along for the ride.

For the Nash Bash is nothing if not about community. For GO’s this entails getting together around our abiding love of rugby, spending time running, passing, jinking (well some of us) and then endlessly going on and on and on about it. Not forgetting of course our fond reminiscences, through rose tinted glasses of how things were different ‘in our day’!

Although a few of the more tropical beasts were conspicuous in their absence there were some interesting animal combinations strutting their stuff – Bullrouts, Battered Prawns, Old War Horses, the odd Mongrel, some Crocs as well as a veritable herd of Stags, resplendent in mediocre red, white and green.

Under the loving gaze of our gloriously authoritarian leader Cassius, the Stags toiled tirelessly to put on a show for the ages. If Juan Antonio himself had turned up there’s little doubt he would have declared it the ‘best ever’ as our visitors and their entourages, not to mention assorted partners and friends were welcomed, enriched and entertained. Some of them even watched the rugby! 

Debutantes were schooled in the curious rituals of GO rugby… red shorts, half time port and every game a draw. Older members from afar returned as if they’d never left and those no longer with us were mistily remembered.

Four hours of fun passed effortlessly, smiles grew ever wider, Williams was cleared and left pristine for future sporting endeavour and rag tag bunches of happy, laughing people drifted off to the pub to tell yet more stories of derring do.

It doesn’t get much better!

Fancy a run with the Stags? Easy! Simply come along to Williams around 6pm on any given Wednesday and you will find us. Or head to the Lennox Head hotel on a Friday evening where grown men in bright red, furry aprons can be found selling raffle tickets for good causes. You know you want to…

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