From the Sidelines

Ruggerfest 2011 was the most painful rugby has ever been.  As I've said many times before (because it makes me strangely proud of myself), at my last tournament in college I broke my ankle and had to have it repaired with steel screws and plates.  Then there was the broken nose this season in Virginia Beach.  I've sustained a concussion, a dislocated shoulder, and more bruises and knocks to the skull than I can remember (not that the two are related).  So what could possibly have happened during Ruggerfest to make things so unimaginably painful?

I had to watch.

Watching games as a bench warmer is one thing.  You know that barring an incredibly close game, you'll get at least a little bit of playing time when the coach is confident the game is either won or lost.  There are the butterflies bouncing in your stomach as you stare longingly at the coach as she looks up and down the bench as she decides who she'll play next.  There is the excitement that at any moment Lis may suffer a catastrophic injury and though you've been the last to go in all season long, Merf might finally realize the star that you are and put you in as the sixth man.  Oh wait.  This was supposed to be hypothetical.  ANYWAY.

This last weekend was so much different, and so much harder than I imagined it would be.  I got a sense of this at practice the week before, which I attended to participate in the non-contact drills and learn from watching my teammates and their mad skillz.  Two other players were sidelined at the Virginia Beach tournament (see picture) and we all were frustrated at our lack of participation in the fun (read: tacking and scrumming) part of rugby.

After practice I thought I was emotionally prepared for the weekend.  But then we started winning.  Our first game we was the closest, and then we proceeded to school the other teams, three in one day.  I was suddenly a rugby girlfriend instead of a rugby player (yeah, I'm dating someone on my team...what are you going to do about it?!?!), and I didn't know what to do with myself.  So, I started being helpful.  I ran to get ice, I carried tape and extra jerseys, and brought water onto the field, I cracked jokes on the sidelines.  It passed the time, but I was sad. 

But I guess that's what it means to really be part of a team.  Even when you can't play, you go to cheer them on.  Even when you're not a part of the action, you do everything you can to support those who are.  So though I wasn't emotionally prepared for an early end to the season, I am proud of my teammates for going out with a bang.  And I kind of like being a rugby girlfriend too.  Now time to start training for the triathlon!