Just over a fortnight ago, the rugby world was tipped on its head by a story so udderly ridiculous that over 1,000 of you flocked to read about it in just three days. A bet involving a prop, a farmer, and—most bizarrely—a cow, captured imaginations from Petersfield to pastures far beyond.

The tale garnered attention from Petersfield Shine Radio and was even shared by some of rugby’s biggest social media pages. As word spread, one question hung over us all: Could Dan Sargent really do it?

The stage was set. 120 farmers crammed into the clubhouse for a pre-match feast before Petersfield’s game against Guildford RFC. Tensions were high, not for the league standings or tactical insights, but for one burning question posed to Director of Rugby Matt McLean:

"What type of cow is Sarge getting?"

Forget breakdown strategies or defensive shape—this was the question of the hour.

With Sarge sitting on 17 tries for the season, it seemed impossible he’d score the hat trick required to seal the deal. But rugby is nothing if not unpredictable.

It started with a bang. Just 10 minutes in, Sarge powered over the line from a set piece, bringing the crowd to their feet. Two tries to go.

With moos bellowing out from the sideline as the game unfolded, Guildford piled on the pressure, taking the lead into halftime. But Petersfield struck back in the second half, with tries from Greg Jansen, Eddie Matthews, and Miles Sampson flipping the game on its head. Then, in the 60th minute, Sarge struck again—his second try of the match. Could he actually do it?

With the crowd holding its breath, Sarge’s chance came in the 68th minute. Charlie Muir tore through a gap in the defence, ball in hand and eyes locked on the try line. Sarge, sprinting like a man possessed, screamed for the ball. But Charlie, vision tunnelled toward the try line, dotted it down himself, leaving Sarge gasping for air—and still one try short.

The final whistle blew on a narrow 40-38 victory, but the real story was the missed opportunity. The moos of hope had turned into boos of disappointment.

The following week, the team travelled to Winchester, with Sarge needing just one try to claim the prize. With Luffy’s farm already punched into the sat nav for the journey back to Petersfield, it seemed like fate was aligning for the perfect ending.

However, as the team stepped out onto the pitch at North Walls Park, they were greeted by a pitch that looked like a herd of cows had been through it themselves. The grass was sparse, the surface dusty—less a rugby field and more a ploughed paddock. Perhaps it was poetic justice, or just Winchester taking home advantage to a whole new level.

The game itself was a nail-biter, with both sides trading blows for 70 gruelling minutes. Then, a controversial penalty try decision swung the momentum against Petersfield, and despite Sarge’s tireless efforts, the line remained just out of reach.

Whether it was bad luck or the rugby gods demanding more drama, one thing was clear—this story wasn’t over.

And so, we arrive at this weekend’s game—the last home league match of the season. It’s Sarge’s final chance to cross the line and claim the cow, and the clubhouse is ready for it. Beef is on the menu at the Past Captains Lunch, a tongue-in-cheek nod to what’s at stake.

At one of the tables, Dan Luff will be looking on, playing it cool but fully aware his prized cattle could soon become part of club folklore. Around him, the crowd will hum with anticipation. This isn’t just a rugby match—it’s the endgame of a story that has taken a steer of its own.

Will Sarge deliver the try that seals his legacy? Or will Luff’s herd live to graze another day?

As the teams step onto the pitch, the noise builds. This is more than rugby now—it’s theatre. All eyes will be on Sarge, and the question is no longer if but when.

When the whistle blows, all eyes will be on one man.

Destiny awaits.