There it is. That marvelous weakness in the opponent's line. You're at full speed, sprinting towards the gap. This try is going to be glorious. It's green as far as the eye can see. You can't believe your luck.
Your glorious moment meets an abrupt end.
As you feel the impact of what must have been a locomotive carrying 78 cars full of concrete, steel and hate, a voice in the back of your head marvels, "The world is so beautiful when it's upside down and spinning. That ground is getting close. I wonder if it is going to hurt when I stop my fall with my face."
As you watch the mongol horde of a ruck form over you while you get molested, kicked, and stepped on, a gem of wisdom forms in your consciousness:
Warning: Flankers may be closer than they appear