Two 90 year old men, Mike and Joe, have been friends all of
their lives. When it's clear that Joe is dying, Mike makes a point
of visiting him every day.

"Joe," Mike says one day, "we have both loved rugby all our lives.
We've played club and provincial rugby and, although neither of
us made the All Blacks, we have had a wonderful time right up to
the Golden Oldies grade which we enjoyed the last few years,
haven't we? Please, if nothing else, do me one favour. When you
get to Heaven, somehow you must get in touch and let me know if
the great game is played there."
Joe looks up at Mike from his death bed.
"Mike, you've been my best friend for many, many years. If it's at all
possible, I will certainly do this small favour for you."
Shortly after that, Joe passed away.
A week or so later, around midnight, Mike is awakened from a
sound sleep by a blinding flash of white light and a voice calling out
to him.
"Mike--Mike."
"Who is it?" asks Mike, sitting up suddenly.
"Mike--it's me, Joe."
"You can't be Joe. Joe just died."
"I'm telling you, it's me, Joe," insists the voice.
"My God, Joe, it is you. I recognise your voice. Where are you?"
"In Heaven", replies Joe. "I have some really, really good news but also
a little bit of bad news."
"Tell me the good news first," says Mike.
"The good news," Joe says," is that, yes, there is rugby football in heaven.
Better yet, all of our old friends and team mates who died before us are
here, too. And, even better than that, we're all young again. Better
still,believe it or not, it's always springtime and it never rains or snows.
And best of all, we can play all the footy we want, and we never get
tired."
"That's fantastic," says Mike. "It's beyond my wildest dreams!
So what's the bad news?"
"You're playing Tuesday."