GG Thompson

James Thompson works a Vancouver warehouse job that keeps his Saturdays free for club rugby, where he has played flanker for a decade and broken, by his own tally, one collarbone, two fingers and countless breakfasts of opposing fly-halves. His team-mates taught him this on an away-trip ferry. He wants contact. Given a choice between a clean race he is favourite in and a messy position where both sides are still hitting, he takes the messy one, and he does not regard that as a leak. He turns the cube the way he goes into a tackle and he is friendly about all of it, before, during and afterwards. He goes looking for the cash tables the way he goes looking for a ruck, because a clean race with nothing on it does not interest him either.