I played my first rugby game two days ago, and have survived. I
walked off the field with my collarbone, nose, teeth, and even ego
intact. It felt good.
I signed up for rugby not knowing the first thing about how to play, and
knowing little more about it other than knowing that my friend's sister
had broken her collarbone in the first five minutes of a game.
A comforting thought.
With this in mind, I committed what my mother considered an act of lunacy; I signed up for rugby.
My team, Kona Bulls, played our first game against Waimea this Saturday
and managed to win despite the fact that half of the people on our team
have never played before. (Sure, the other team only had seven players,
but no one has to know that.) I was pretty beast (if I say so myself);
tackling three Hawaiian guys in a row. They went down like dominoes. I
wish someone could have videotaped it.
The field was gravelly and rough, so everyone on my team cut up their
shins a little. On the way to Waimea, my knees were white and smooth,
and on the way back, they were dark red and caked with dirt.
This Saturday, Kona Bulls will play against Hilo. It will be videotaped but I'm not sure it should be.
Pray for us.
We'll need it.
