Speaking Strine

You all laughed when I first talked about discovering a love for rugby. Well here I am, during what we American collegiate basketball fans call “March Madness,” with my favorite team in the running for a national championship and all I can think about is union rugby.

As silly as the idea of a hospitality and management school rugby team sounds, I am consistently impressed by the organization, interest and high standards set by the dependable trio of our de facto general manager, coach and team captain. Three weeks into any real club development, they’ve displayed a real understanding of how to motivate and raise expectations. I can’t say that the college administration has been completely won over, but once we sign our club contracts and take a shot at the Student Representative Council’s support, we’ll have made more than enough headway for them to respect our organization. (We’ll be playing rugby anyway, so who cares?) Honestly though, outside of a cursory interest in the sport, it was their management that hooked me initially. It was the opportunity to spearhead the logo and jersey design that caught my graphic illustrator interest. Back home, I get a chance nearly every week to produce illustrations and graphics for our college newspaper and numerous other organizations. Here, creative work has been scarce.

Back on topic, that much involvement, a professional match and a couple pick-up touch games in the school’s backyard were the extent of my “rugby experience.” Tonight, everything changed. We grouped up and headed out to the field in Melwood for a night of practice. With twenty-four players (we expect thirty when it’s all said and done) we immediately picked up a game of touch, familiarizing the newbies like myself and more than a dozen others with some of the basic strategies and rules. It was exhilarating. Forgiving friends that they are, I received more tosses and runs than anyone at my skill level should have gotten.

“Offsides, Chad, back up!”

“No blocking in rugby, Chad, get back!”

“Toss the footy, Chad, it’s our last touch!”

“Quick swatting the ball down, Chad, you have to catch it!”  

I was learning slowly.

But I never felt discouraged or put down. Enthusiasm has a beautiful way of excusing ineptness. Just a smile, a nod and we were off again. 

Too quickly, coach Harris (Or Haro, as his rugby friends call him. Apparently, everyone gets an ‘O’ or a ‘Y’ at then end of their name in rugby. Guess what mine is…) interrupted the play and called everyone in for old fashioned stretches and warm-ups. Already we have members barking out commands for unity in the drills, hooking unconvinced players into a team mindset. Clearly, I enjoy observing human behavior and I wasn’t let down here. Our aforementioned de facto captain already knew it was time to pass on the commands and put other leaders in the rotation.  

It wasn’t until the ball-stripping drill (in rugby it’s handing the ball off when you’re hit) that my memories of high school “gridiron” football came flooding back. I couldn’t believe that I could be so nostalgic for suicides, circuit training and the infamous “Oklahoma Drill” that I loathed so much at those practices. It did feel refreshing to be part of a team again. Perhaps it was the contact of that particular drill that put me in the mood. When my partner told me to hit him as hard as I could, I knew I was being tested, but I had no time to think about that and I didn’t need to. Once the ball had been stripped and I pulled off I heard a friend watching clearly remark, “That kids a flanker.” I can’t tell you that I know what exactly is expected of a flanker, what they look like or if I’d be any good, but I always appreciate any kind of approval.  

The practice transitioned into what I would describe as “team-building” drills, where we learned ball handling at a slower pace and tried our best to remember each other’s names. More advanced players pushed the tempo and the less advanced tried not to drop the ball. There’s a clear line between the city club-level players, the soccer and league rules rugby-level players, and the rest of us.  

From the looks of things, we’ll play as one of a few junior teams for the Forest Rugby Club, picking up games from other clubs when they have multiple teams. More importantly, we’ll get ICMS Bandicoots jerseys and be lifetime club members so I can come back to Sydney and play minor league rugby whenever I feel like trying out (let’s say next year?). Next up, we’ll be organizing a couple campus fundraisers to cover uniforms and registration costs, something I’ll undoubtedly have a hand in.

Oh yea, we’re called the Bandicoots. Because of the incredible bandicoot population at the school I mentioned before, the name was kind of a given. There were a couple other names tossed around, like “The Goonies,” but for other un-Sloth-related reasons. Plus “Bandicoot” is fun to say. Go ahead, try it.

Regardless, everyone has felt and enjoyed the benefits of belonging to a team before and I think this is what I needed at this point in my trip. Nearly half-way through, life here has become too casual for me. Little things have brought homesick thoughts back and forth into my mind lately. This might be the boost I need. If nothing else, I’ve recognized this opportunity to solidify the good relationships I’ve established, and to have my teeth knocked out.

Wish me luck!