Remember That Time I Played Rugby?

I don't think I told my readers that I recently took up the sport of rugby. I started a column weeks ago about how rugby has changed my outlook on many things - I felt more confident, walked (though very sore) with a sense of pride that almost made me a bully (no one ever knew), and thought I had found a group of real gentlemen.

I never finished that column.

We had our first game today, and I can say nothing much more than that it was a disgrace. A disgrace not only to our ability to score, but a disgrace to the highly-regarded game of rugby and the people we are. When I was brought into the sport, I was told it was a gentleman's game; that there was respect for the sport and the opposing team right on the pitch, even when the referee wasn't looking. No matter what happened, we'd all get together to drink and sing songs post-match as was the tradition of rugby. It's a rewarding sport, with every step the history and presence of the traditions and rules would wrap us all in glory just for having played.

Ready for my take?

As with many sports, rugby depends heavily on teamwork. We simply didn't play as a team. One wing (one of the men on the outside) touched the ball one time. That's about as much passing as we did. I saw men on both teams get hit for no reason. The match really turned into "who's balls are bigger" and the game and traditions of rugby turned to shit. All we had to do was pass the ball to a few folks and we could have kept possession and probably scored a couple of more times.

But what do I know? Last time I was on a winning team that worked this hard, I was 9 and the sport was soccer. The principles were the same then, too.

Now I'm just going to bathe and find something better to do.