Posts tagged Rugby

I was walking down the street today on a bright, crisp Boston morning on my way to meet up with teammates for our afternoon match. I wasn’t more than a few steps out of my friend’s apartment before I heard someone calling to me. As I turned around, I saw an older man donning a New Zealand All Blacks rugby shirt coming towards me.

“I’m sorry for stopping you, but I couldn’t help but notice you were wearing rugby gear!” he said, in his thick Kiwi accent, and continued excitedly, “I haven’t seen any rugby gear since I got here!” 

And so ensued our impromptu rugby gush fest. His excitement effused from his huge smile as he caught me up on the World Cup and his son’s future as an All-Black flanker. He asked about my match, my position and my rugby history, especially since rugby is so relatively unknown in the US. Countries like New  Zealand have rugby running through their blood before they even take their first steps on a pitch or throw their first pass. However, no matter the background, when rugby players are brought together, all barriers go out the door and all that’s left is mutual respect and curiosity. Whether it’s recalling old memories or comparing old injuries, the conversation is always a good time.

From the outside, rugby often seems violent and unnecessarily dangerous, especially in a country accustomed to tackling only when wearing significant padding. I even experienced these sentiments at first, opting to try ultimate frisbee my first semester at Harvard rather than just sign up “to get injured” on the rugby team. Thankfully, I eventually made my way to the team and finally saw rugby for what it is: absolutely amazing. 

Rugby is not just a sport. It’s a lifestyle, a community, a spirit that brings players together in any place and in any time. There is a certain rugby code that permeates all aspects of the game. The game requires the athletes to respect it, and thus, by default the opposition. I always remember building hatred towards my opponents in high school like it was a source of strength. Now, we focus on the competition alone, and know the team that performs the best will end up on top. We may tackle our opponents with aggression and strength, but we genuinely wish her a good game after the final whistle, and most likely will spend time together over food and drinks afterwards. 

As for my teammates, well, it’s hard to really describe exactly what they mean to me. We respect and admire each other, I find motivation in their smashing hits, blinding speed and explosive strength, but I also respect them as human beings. Women with incredible resilience and strength of character, who know what it means to work hard and what it means to be a teammate. We always know we have each other’s back- it’s built into the game. Every play includes supporting teammates, no one is ever left alone. When we take the ball into the opposing team, our teammates will be right there to push the defense off. When we sprint through a gap, we have runners fill in on the right and left. In short- we are a unit, tied together by the teamwork that rugby naturally demands. There’s every kind of body type, playing styles and skills, but we are one on that field, all 15 of us, and we need all 15 to win. 

Many of us have been asked at different times why we choose to play, but for those of us who take the field, it’s a no-brainer. The game has been hugely formative in our lives and our teammates and coaches have been hugely influential as mentors and friends. I’ve learned about what it means to be tough, yet graceful, confident, yet aware of personal vulnerabilities. You learn it might not be possible to do it all yourself, but that’s why you support your teammates on and off the field. Even after your body can no longer keep playing, rugby is still a presence your life. It’s impossible to forget what it has given you. 

When I go back to watch my old college team play, I feel the appreciation for the years I learned what it meant to be a rugby player and am excited for the girls who are just beginning their journey. Now, when I circle up with my team before we take the field, I feel a surge of pride for the women bound in that huddle. With the “oogies” and the “oys” to the fury pride combo, we pump ourselves up with cheers, ready to take the field. We aren’t just a team, we are family, and we feel it coursing through our veins. We know where we belong.