I had grand hopes for the weekend. It was my first rugby tournament in nearly 10 years. At the 2001 Scrum by the Sea tournament in San Diego, I finally realized that if you don't stop running when someone tries to tackle you, you can sometimes keep going! This is what I was trying to do when my cleat got stuck in the mud and my ankle kept moving, resulting in a dislocation. The aforementioned tacklers then fell on the leg, fracturing my fibula in the process.
All through warm-ups at the Virginia Beach tournament this weekend I kept thinking, "I'm back! I'm in great shape! I've been playing so well lately! This is going to be an awesome welcome back to the land of rugby tournaments after a 10-year hiatus. Don't F this up!" And for a while, it seemed I would be successful.
Our first match of the day left much to be desired. Our scrums were inexplicably crap, after our first try we went scoreless, and the opposing team's fly half walked all over us. I had my favorite run of the season, in which I bowled over one girl and kept running (flashbacks to SD!!!), but to no avail. We still left with a loss.
The second match was against Norfolk, a Mid Atlantic RFU powerhouse. Their scrum was supposed to be beastly, and their backs fast and strong. Somehow we fixed the challenges from the first match and bowled them over in nearly every scrum. We played a much better game, but still lost. They had a psychotic lock who took a swing at our kindest, most dignified player who, quite literally, turned the other cheek. Did the girl get ejected? No. She didn't even get a red card. Perhaps home cooking on the part of the ref lost us the match. But you didn't hear that from me.
My tackles that game were beastly, and I took real pleasure in chucking girls to the ground. I was incredibly pumped for the final match of the tournament against Chesapeake, a team we had beaten just a week before. I was focused on my goal for the tournament: to tackle like Nicole, our 90-pound wing who thinks she's 300 pounds. The girl is fearless, and I figured if her tiny ass could hit the big girls, then I could too.
About five minutes into the first half, I was focusing on sprinting off the line the moment the scrumhalf took the ball from the ruck. I had visions of leveling their flyhalf with a textbook tackle. Unfortunately, my teammate Q (who has hit me hard a number of times in practice and left me with ringing in my ears) had the same vision. At the same time. For the same girl. In to the tackle we both went. Let's just say the girl from Chesapeake was the only one who left the exchange unscathed.
I heard a deafening crunch/pop/knock as Q's forehead (a hard one at that) went straight into the bridge of my nose. Down I went. My thoughts, in the following order:
1. Get up. You always come out for lame ass reasons. Get up.
2. Ow.
3. Shit. I think it's broken. Get ready for the blood.
4. Get up, there's no blood.
So I stood up. Well, I got to my knees, got one foot up, and collapsed back into the fetal position.
5. Shit. I think it's broken.
Megan and Megan, our hooker, and a trained EMT/rugby girlfriend came rushing out on the field once play had stopped, helped me up off the ground, and walked me to the sidelines. On the way, EMT Megan said "It's br..." Apparently at his point I smacked her repeatedly and said "Stop talking! Just stop talking." Though I knew she was right, I didn't want to hear it. Luckily, the tournament medic was out of arms reach since his first words were "Well, it's sure broke and bruisin' up real nice!" Jerk.
Three x-rays later, their suspicions were confirmed, and I was left with an ice pack, a prescription for percocet, and the knowledge that not only was my season likely over, but I would not be participating in the post-tourney debauchery for which rugby players are known. But, at least they won the game after I left.
Am I disappointed in the way the season ended? Yes. But I'm pleased with the rest of the tournament, I had an incredibly fun weekend, percocet apparently leads to plenty of debauchery, and the black eyes totally got me street cred at my detention center job. All in all, I'd say it was a good weekend. And based on my track record, it's probably a good thing I can't go to another tournament next weekend...
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