Lessons I learned from Rugby

Rugby is the most demanding and rewarding sport on earth. I was fortunate enough to play four semesters of Rugby at UConn. Our program was Division I-AA, but we were poorly supported by our school. Every other team in our conference had at least partial recognition from their school’s Department of Athletics, and the money that goes with it. We were a “club sport”, and only received funding extremely reluctantly from the largely ineffective and corrupt Undergraduate Student Government at UConn.

The Basic Rules of Rugby:

Rugby Union is played with an egg shaped ball on a field no larger than 100 meters by 70 meters. In the middle of each of the short sides of the rectangular field are two H-shaped goal posts. Each team’s goal is to carry the ball to one end of the field. Players play both offense and defense, and unlike American Football, play does not stop when the ball-carrier is tackled. Instead, players from each team fight over possession of the ball by attempting to push one another away from the spot of the tackle. This is called the “Ruck.”

There are 15 players on the field (“pitch”) at any time for each team. The players are numbered 1 to 15. The numbers correspond to a specific position. Numbers 1 through 8 are “Forwards”, the remaining 7 players are “Backs”. Forwards are usually larger and their main job is to maintain possession of the ball after tackles. When Forwards run the ball, they run powerfully, crashing through the defense in order to gain short meters. Backs are faster, quicker, and smaller. Their job is to pass the ball out wide, exploiting gaps in the opponent’s defense and scoring the majority of the points. There are two ways to score in Rugby, and both are roughly similar to American Football. The first is to carry the ball into the end-zone. In order to complete the score, you must touch the ball to the ground in the end-zone. This is why it’s called a “touchdown.” This is called a Try and is worth 5 points. A kick at the goal posts follows a try, and is worth 2 points. The second way to score is by kicking a field goal. Just like football, it’s worth three points. A game goes for 80 minutes, with a ten minute break halfway through. The ball can only be passed backwards, but may be kicked forwards.

On my first day of practice, “Doc”, the head coach, ran us through some tacking drills. We hit the bags and practiced carrying the ball into a tackle. My understanding of the game was extremely limited. He split us into “forwards” and “Backs.” Without really knowing what that meant, I became a forward. As I would soon learn, it wasn’t easy. Being a forward meant being tough, it meant making a tackle, and then another and another and another all in a row without stopping and then hitting a ruck and then another. I quickly learned that I was out of shape.

I am reasonably sized, 6’ and 215 lbs. I am reasonably quick, reasonably strong, and reasonably athletic. I knew that I wouldn’t get playing time based on sheer athleticism. We had two teams, an “A” team and a “B” team. The A-side would play the game that actually counted, and then the B-side would square off against the opposing team’s B-side.

Every practice that first semester I just wished it would be over. It was too hard… I couldn’t do it. I played 8 games on the B-side but didn’t see so much as a minute of substitution time on the A-side. I was out of shape, out of my league.

Every day that winter I ran through the team mandated workout plan. I ran until I felt sick, I lifted until my arms wouldn’t move. I’m not sure why I wanted it so badly, maybe just to prove I could. And gradually, as the next semester started, I started to look forward to practice. I had learned after months of feeling like I had nothing in me, that I would always be able to push myself just a little more. Instead of walking between rucks I would run. I started to get better. I still didn’t play on the A-side that spring, with the exception of the annual Blue-White scrimmage (I scored my first try) but I could feel I was getting better. My excuses were melting away.

That summer I ran and lifted all I could. In the fall, the team plays in conference games. These games count. The friendly matches in the spring didn’t. I worked my ass off.

When the fall came, I didn’t find myself on the list of players selected for the first game. Or the second. Or the Third. Undeterred, I doubled my efforts.

The fourth game, we were home against Middlebury College. The practice before the game, the coaches read the starting 15. I wasn’t on that list, but I was listed as a substitute. I didn’t play that game.

The fifth game we were home against UMass. I dressed in my A-side white uniform and watched from the sidelines. 75 minutes in our lock injured himself. I got the call and played the rest of the game.

I didn’t play again until the final game of the season. We played Northeastern away. I was named to the starting roster and played 60 minutes before injuring myself (a very minor knock). I stood next to the coach and asked to be put back in. I came it, caught a pass, turned up field and ran thirty yards.

The spring semester I started four games on A-side. I wasn’t the best player on the roster by a landslide. I probably wasn’t the 20^th best. But I worked hard each and every day.

I want to go to medical school to be a surgeon. It’s not going to be an easy road. But, I was lucky enough to have learned from Rugby: If you work harder than everyone else, nothing in this world is impossible.

 Playing Flanker against Northeastern (I'm in the blue wearing the red cletes)