you know while I am being a gurmble bum i should add not one of the politically active boys that i went through university with were really worth a roll in the hay with.
They were either A) 'sensitive' types who were super friends but more likely to bat for the gentleman's team
B) earnets poetic types BLAH!!!
C) smelly hippies who needed a good shave and facewash.
The rugby types may have been as dumb as a box of hair but if you did not talk to them for too long they had their charms.....Just saying.....
Ahhh, The rugby types, I wanted so much to be a rugby player, the comradely, the thrill of playing a sport without equipment, a sport not totally embraced by America, the keg parties after each game where both sides would join together and rugby guys got all the women, Ahhh, that was the life for me. Our school had a club and I joined, I worked hard and practiced, memorized all the songs that were sung after each game and joined them in celebration,( we had a guy from Australia or England , cant remember, who taught us the songs). They accepted me after a long discussion, long hair and all, I had a chipped front tooth which I had earned slipping on the ice (in the parking lot) just before boarding the plane a few weeks earlier and I think this is what tilted the scales in my favor for the deciding vote because I could tell it wasn’t unanimous. Every guy had at least 50 lbs on me, but I was fast and could out run them all so they put me at the end of the wing. In practice we would break free of the scrum and pan out and the ball would come to me last and I would run like the wind and either score or get knock out of bounds. Finally my first game and they put me in when our club was in scoring position…. They passed me the ball and I ran 20 ,30 yards down the field until I was blindsided by a guy who was twice my size and caught up to me… I had passed out and held onto the ball and in rugby they can beat the piss out of you until you release it, which they did and they don’t stop the game for a hurt player. If you cant move then someone needs to drag you out of bounds so that you can be replaced, which they did. I woke up about 10 minutes later and laid in the grass barely watching the rest of the game. We lost the game, that day, but partied with our blood stained clothes and faces until the wee hours. I stayed with the team throughout the season but just couldn’t take the pain and the bleeding all night Saturdays and Sunday. Plus my love life only improved slightly, so I opted for the sailing club which I enjoyed but they were so friggin stiff (if you beat them, they wouldn’t talk to you all night or would spend the night filing a protest) , so after the regattas that I would end up heading over to the rugby parties at night.
Good bunch of guys, OZ, you people have one of the best sports there is, down and dirty with no animosity towards each other afterwards, I never found that anywhere else in life since.
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