Decky Does A Bronco

"I am the master! I am the master!" Decky pelts after Chrissy, his erstwhile arch-nemesis/best friend, looping a giant rope round his head. David watches on with amused irritation whilst Barry looks contemptuously at the lot of them. He is nearly in secondary school, after all, and the rest of this motley crew are a mere nine-years-old.

This is the world of Decky Does A Bronco, a vivid, dangerous, playful space that is slowly penetrated by the violent adult reality which encompasses it. A set of swings forms the focus of these youngsters, a monument to their prowess in the great art of "bronco-ing". To bronco is to jump off a swing at great speed looping the links over the frame – a right of male passage in this Scottish council estate.

The physical prowess of the cast is cleverly underplayed but clear for all to see. Our boys clamber about the swing frame like monkeys, each ascension a victory, each bronco a badge of honour.

Douglas Maxwell’s play is now beginning to feel a bit dated. Created by Grid Iron in 2000, the central story of a tragically shortened childhood was probably more of a rarity then. Now it feels predictable.

Performed in a park, there is a rawness to Decky Does A Bronco that mirrors its external surroundings; you couldn’t cage this in a proscenium arch theatre. Frustrating then that its narrative should seem so traditional.