My First Almost-Game: St. Paddy's Day Tournament

I almost got to play in my first rugby game.

I was excited and nervous to travel to Topeka for the tournament. I would have been more excited and less nervous had my rugby buddy not told me, "You'll definitely get some playing time." I wasn't sure that I wanted playing time, really.

See, I have this thing with excellence. In everything I do, I want to be excellent at something before I have to do it in public. Not sure why that is. Maybe it's just because I don't want to look like a moron in public. Or maybe it's because I don't want to offer an opportunity for anyone to correct me. Maybe I don't like being told what to do, and being unsure of what I'm doing is a prime opportunity for that. Anyway, I was nervous about being thrown into a game when I wasn't even sure about the basic rules.

I must have been sending that vibe pretty strongly out into the Universe, because I manifested a great excuse not to play.

I was warming up with the Sabres, going hard to prove that I had the athleticism to hang with the team, even though I'd barely touched a rugby ball before. The Sabres were running continuity, going through some plays and stuff, and I and another rookie were providing some opposition for them. Not full contact, of course, just light touch.

My touches were not, apparently, light enough. I accidentally got my arms all the way around the 8 man while she was running, and she ran through my right elbow. Instant pain, and a string of profanities flowed forth from my mouth. A few people asked if I was okay, and I was like, "No!" But there was nothing I (or anyone else) could do, at that point. I was so disappointed, and so frustrated. I walked off a ways in case I started crying.

The Sabres finished running their warm up series, and got ready for their first game. I walked off on my own, for a while, to feel sorry for myself. Had myself a good cry, then talked myself out of the Bad Place, and determined that I would do my best to support my friend (and her team) in the game. I walked back to our pitch past an ambulance past an ambulance into which they were loading a guy who was really hurt on a backboard with a neck brace. I felt a little better about what had happened to me.

Best I can figure, I hyperextended my elbow. I couldn't bend it more than about 20º for that first day. It bruised and swelled really badly. I couldn't bend it enough to do basic things, like take off a shirt or unzip my pants. I think I did some damage to the ligaments. By the end of the next day, though, I had a little bit more range of motion. I think it'll get better with time (and without the assistance of doctors).

Also, I served as touch judge in my first two games. Which I sucked at. Because I'd never played and didn't know the rules. So I guess the Universe still found a way to humble me that day.

My First Practice

Okay, so really I only got into rugby because of a girl.

Hey! Don't judge me! Are you telling me you've never done anything ridiculous because of someone you loved (or wanted to)? Please.

Anyway, a girl. She had been trying to draw me into that world for a while, and I was willing. Honestly, I'd been looking a new challenge for a while. Triathlon had lost its appeal. I was considering softball and kung fu pretty seriously. So when I started dating a rugger, I figured I may as well give it a shot.

I started learning a little bit about rugby. I started reading a book about rugby. I started asking some questions about rugby. Then one afternoon, my girl asked me if I wanted to go to practice.

The catch is, there's not a women's rugby team in Wichita anymore. So she practiced with the men. Which, honestly, shouldn't have been that big a deal. I mean, I played high school football with men. But I also got hurt a lot, once I moved from the freshman team to the JV. Because the men were big. And I was small. And I'm even smaller now. So I approached this situation with some apprehension.

We went to a big box sports store so that I could get a pair of cleats and a mouthguard. I got a pair of cotton shorts at Goodwill, and wore an old T-shirt. We drove across town.

And it was really pretty non-eventful. We did dynamic warm-ups and stretching (much like we did in football). We ran some sprints, which were hard for me (triathletes don't sprint very often). And then there wasn't much for us to do. So we worked on passing and kicking, and a little bit of light tackling. She said I was a natural. And nothing fuels me like copious praise.

And that was my first exposure to rugby. Not much of a story, now that I think about it.

So here's a link to a video that proves that I'm not the only one who is drawn to rugby by sexy ladies. I won't embed the video, though, because this is sooooo not what rugby is like.

Excellence: The Theory

See? Bowl cut.

I was born in the 80's, but I'm really a product of the 1990's. Saved by the Bell and Full House were my bread and butter, growing up. I somehow acquired the practice of wearing baggy, cut-off, denim shorts (stolen from my dad's closet) and a huge Chicago Bulls T-shirt. I had a bowl cut. And my tween years fell just after "radical" fell out of common parlance, but before "cool" became the word of the culture. I grew up saying "Excellent!" to anything my tweenage brain found worthwhile. (Yes, I also said "Psych!" and "Duh.")

Fifteen years later, I've changed my perspective on what constitutes excellence. For example, Full House and Saved by the Bell? Not excellent. Pretty mediocre, actually. No longer can I apply the word "excellent" to anything that I find pleasing. In order for something to be excellent, it needs to be extremely good. Outstanding. It needs to be first-rate.

That's how I feel about rugby, and that's what this blog is about. You and I may never represent our respective nations in a World Cup, but that doesn't mean we can't be excellent ruggers. If you can make every pass, every kick, every scrum, every hit a little bit better than the last one you performed; if you can take feedback from your coaches and teammates (whether it's constructive or not) and incorporate into your next effort; if you can observe the results of each action you take on the field, and use those results to make your next action even more effective . . .

Then you will become excellent.