Day Full of Rugby

My blogs are going to be a lot shorter during this camp than they’ve been in the past. Part of the reason is that there are no masons here and I don’t have to speculate as to the origins of Colorado Springs (as I did in Tigertown), although Nicola Tesla spent some time here, so who knows what kind of crazy science stuff went on here at the turn of the 20^thcentury.

I’ve digressed. My blogs won’t be as long—with the many tangents I sometimes follow into thought progressions that only lead to confusion—because I’m beat. Yep, it’s 10:30. I’ve just logged onto my computer, and I’m tir-yerd. Our day was full, absolutely full, but then that’s what we expected. We had short breaks around mealtimes and a naptime, and the rest of the day was rugby. And yes, I said “naptime.” We were told to take a nap, and who’s going to argue with that (unless you’re a five-year-old)? Jamie Burke suggested, for future camps, that we all get Canterbury floor mats. I second her suggestion.

Aaaannnd…that’s all I have tonight. I’m hitting the sack. Quickly, before I travel to bedtime Shangri-La, I just wanted to thank an amazing lady for leaving cute notes in my bags and shoes. 

Colorado Springs: Fall Camp Day .5

8:10pm Colorado: First ten minutes in Colorado and I have a food dilemma. The CO Springs airport is pretty small, and once you get through security, after deplaning, there are only three places to get food. After 8pm, there are zero. It’s 8:11 now. I’m hungry.

10:23pm Colorado: Food dilemma solved. Thanks to AP and her baba ghanoush, I’m able to think about something other than my bellowing stomach, which of course lends me to thinking about this camp that starts bright and early tomorrow morning. I’m a bit nervous, but I think it’s the good kind of nervous—the kind that gets your synapses firing and all of those good chemicals flowing through your body. The next two days are going to be full of rugby, rugby meetings, rugby drills, rugby people, and some feeding breaks here and there. Should be a lot of fun.

Excited About Some Rugby

It’s been close to a month since I’ve posted. Lots of stuff happening in the rugby world—7s Nationals, 7s NASCs coming up, some more 7s here and there. For me—I didn’t play 7s this year, because I was planning a move and moving right smack in the middle of the season.

Now that we’re all moved in, I’m itching for some rugby. I’ve been in contact with a couple of folks here in the Tampa area and hopefully, very soon, I’ll be playing some 15s and maybe helping out with youth rugby in the area.

I’m also anxious about the National team’s upcoming tour in November. It’s a ways off, and we don’t know the travel roster just yet, but the Elite Pool is looking pretty damned good (athletically and in terms of potential performance, but we’re also pretty hot). I can’t wait for our camp in September, and then hopefully I’ll be in Europe in November. That’s really all I have for the blog right now—excited about some rugby this fall!

Blog From Monday

I started, on Monday, writing a sort-of camp wrap-up entry, and didn't finish, but I'm going to post what I did write and then perhaps post again soon.

7/9/12

Yesterday, camp officially closed. We came together, all three teams as one team of Eagles, one last time for a stretching session and one last meeting with the coaching staff. We won’t know selections until sometime this week, but we got an idea of how everything will work. We’ll have a tour in the Fall, after the WPL season is over, then some time off, and then, hold on to your socks, it gets pretty dang busy—ETCs, camps, tournaments, tours. It’s exciting, but intimidating as well. But it’s a ways off, so there is plenty of time to work out the details.

After camp closed, we all got a chance to say some hectic goodbyes. I, along with eight others, didn’t fly out yesterday, so after we were all herded onto busses and shuttled to the airport, us Monday fliers went to a nearby hotel for the night. A few of the late Sunday fliers tagged along, San Juanita, like a true Mexican (her words, not mine), stowing away in the back so we could fit 12 in the 11-capacity van, and we all grabbed dinner (which we had around 3:30, because our meal-clocks are still screwy from the early dinners at camp). I’d like to tell you that none of us uttered the words “ten percent,” but that wasn’t the case.

We returned to the hotel for a post-dinner dip in the pool and a little down time. Though camp had officially closed, we still hadn’t had any significant down time (travel doesn’t count as down time), so we used the rest of the night to relax, grab milkshakes, catch up on our social media sites, etc. I watched the newer Indiana Jones movie with the gals in my room, Erica and Ashley, though I didn’t make it to the end. Do they return the skull? I assume they do, since Indiana Jones always succeeds in the end and generally, only the bad guys get carried away and eaten by thousands of giant ants. 

Undefeated Match and 10% Card

All of the build-up to the White vs. Red match proved to be well founded. Going into the match, both teams were undefeated. We (White…the Great White Sharks) were ahead in the points standings, which were based on the WPL scoring, I’m told, but Red was right behind us, so this match dictated who won our little league (not little league, but a small in number of teams league) here.

Red came out uber aggressive—too aggressive at times. Their aggression gave them good field position at times, gave our offense trouble at times, and disrupted our rucks so that we lost possession a few times. However, it also landed them some penalties. We played a good deal of the first half in their end of the field, and though we threatened to score a couple of times, we couldn’t quite put points on the board. But then, we only allowed Red to put a penalty kick through.

The second half saw more scoring. We broke through first and scored a try. Unfortunately, the wind was apparently on Red’s side and nudged the ball off the tee as our flyhalf, Hannah, was in her kicking motion. Nonetheless, we took the lead 5-3. Then Red scored twice more and pulled away 17-5. With only about 10 minutes left, we turned the momentum again, scored a try, made the kick and pulled within five. Adrenaline still surging, we pounded the ball back at Red once more and put another one in, tying the match. And then the whistle blew. Ending the match. At a tie.

In the end, there were two undefeated teams here at camp, but we were the eventual champs, based on the scoring method.  Feels good to be champs. Would have felt even better had we won, and with the way the match was going, I think that momentum would have stayed right there behind us and propelled us across that try line again, but then it’s easy to speculate, and I’m sure Red is probably speculating that they could’ve regrouped and won it in overtime.

So now, camp is pretty much over. We have a recovery session in the morning, a meeting, some feed back, and a feeding (not in that order) and then we head for the Denver airport and the big blue zombie horse.

Tonight, after the matches, we all got a chance to recognize the efforts of the UNCo staff and liaisons, who helped set-up this camp and keep it running as smoothly as it did, and our own staff. They all made this camp the best I’ve been to and they help foster what turned out to be some very good rugby.

Some of us also got a chance to use our 10% card. If you don’t know what that is, I’ll tell ya. On our nutrition plan, we have the option of “cheating” 10% of the time. Quite a few players went the pizza route, and a few, including myself, got subs…some with, gasp, mayo. I got a buffalo chicken sub with Ranch, which is just as bad as mayo, but tastier. But the highlight of my 10% cheat was the very large, bucket-like Diet Coke. Ahhh, the sweet, sweet burn of carbonation. Yes, soda is a weakness of mine, as is sugar candy. It’s too bad the sub place didn’t have some Bottle Caps or Skittles. I would’ve been in 10% heaven…which I’m sure is populated by ex-rugby players, fat-camp kids, and professional eating champions. 

Ok, I’m done. Night!

Friday at Camp: The Volleyball Plague

I want the Masonic Band back. I know I’ve been joking about how they’re Masons and they have secret lives and rituals and probably have weird initiation ceremonies that involve nudity and chickens, but in reality they were very considerate and polite, and they were great cafeteria buddies. Today, we got new cafeteria buddies. At breakfast, there was a murmur, a slight stir of a sort-of check-in outside the dinning hall. By lunch, that murmur was a full-blown bombination of teenage and pre-teen girls flooding the buffet lines, zipping in and out of small groups of other teenage and pre-teens, yipping about boys and ponies and glitter, totally unaware of their spatial distance and where lines originate. It was havoc. It was the locust plague. It was volleyball camp.

Dinner wasn’t as bad, but only because we arrived before the infestation. Ok, ok, so I know I’m giving these girls a bad rap, when in fact they’re not actually the ones who deserve it. Their counselors don’t deserve it either. They’re running a camp with close to a couple hundred girls. My guess would be that it’s probably a little harder to manage a couple hundred teenage and pre-teen girls than it is to manage about a hundred women. However, it’s a little difficult to manage both a couple hundred young girls and a hundred women together, having a small, hour and a half, window in which to eat, and having other things going on in their respective camps which only shrink that window. I blame the dinning services for the chaos. They should extend the lunchtime and stagger the two groups.

Anyway, enough about the little nettlesome volleyball players and on to rugby. We had one practice session today and went over a lot of video. From what we’ve seen, it looks like our match with the red team should be a good one. They have some weaknesses that we’ll look to exploit (just like any other match), and we have a game plan that we think will win. We’ll see tomorrow. Should be a good one.

After our field session, lifting form session (forgot to mention that one), and all that video, we did some improv with John, our Skills Coach. John is pretty awesome. He’s exceptionally intelligent, a great conversationalist, recommends awesome books, and he does cool things like work with Navy Seals (or the Marines or one of those bad-ass military groups) and Improvisation (the live kind). Tonight he put us through some improv/team-building exercises. We created rhythm together, passed around a couple of imaginary balls, created a very large and very noisy imaginary machine, and either hated or loved sporks. It was a lot of fun. I think that we’re all in a really good place, mentally, to play tomorrow. And as far as the physical goes—we’re all recovered, feeling good, and raring to hit people. Tomorrow will be a good day.

Oh, and one other thing, I found out that I run funny, today, which I knew (I run straight up), though I’d never described it as funny. I think my shin angle is off. But all that means is that I have the potential to be faster. Look out now.

Exercising the Neck Demon

Today was a recovery day for us, which meant pool recovery, and surprise…yoga! Our coach, Danielle Miller, led the yoga. I’m not a yoga guru (literally or metaphorically), but I enjoy it. And, I don’t necessarily swear by it, but I will testify that if done properly, it has some great benefits. One of those benefits is that it puts my lack of flexibility into perspective, and another is that it helps improve that lack of flexibility. It also promotes relaxation, which is so key when recovering.

And speaking of recovering, our coaches have been amazing at being sure we get the time to do that. Instead of field sessions on days after a match, we’ve been doing pool recovery and yoga. This camp is, after all, about performance, not development, and our coaches have been great at promoting our recovery so that we can perform. Actually, they’ve been great at promoting our performance as well. When we do get on the field, it’s focused and productive.

Back to recovery, one more time. Yesterday, in the half that I played wing, I, somehow, tweaked/pulled/summoned a demon in my neck, and it was stiiiiiiiff this morning. Ok, I know all of the forwards are saying to themselves, “Is dis skinny lil wing ho talkin’ ‘bout how she be sore?” in their best ghetto fabulous voices. Forwards, I promise you that I don’t claim to have done the grunt work that you do or to have been as sore as you all. I just had a stiffy…in my neck. Anyway, I thought I’d take advantage of our excellent medical staff, and so our trainer, Ashley, kindly exercised the demon. By that, I mean she beat the stiffness out of my neck via massage. It hurt, but ohhh such a good pain. And being such a masochist, I went back for more tonight, and again what a good way to hurt.

One more bit of exciting news: our missing teammate finally arrived. “Missing teammate?” you ask, “Where was she?” Well, Tonya has been fighting fires a few hours from here, and they have made a good deal of progress in containing the fires, and her crew was finally released. I think that’s not only pretty bad-ass, but admirable, so I just wanted to mention it here.

Also, the Masonic Band Camp left today. I don’t know whether or not there’s some sort of coincidence there—the fires die down, the Masons leave—and I’m sure if there was one, I wouldn’t want to touch it. All I can think is Mel Gibson in “Conspiracy Theory,” and really, I’d rather not think of old Crazy-Face or the Masons anyway, so I’ll just retire now. Happy rugby dreaming.

A Win for White on America's Birthday

Happy Birthday America!!! I celebrated my 236-year-old freedom from the tyrannical throne by tackling college students. We played the College All-Americans today, and we came out pumped from the kick-off. Actually, I think we were pumped from the time we woke up this morning. We followed our game plan exceptionally well—we had a ton of positive tackles and shut them down up the middle, while hitting holes ourselves and running around them.

The All-Americans had a few brilliant moments and scored 12 points on us. However, we overwhelmed them with 66 (I think) points of our own. I got some run at wing in the second half and scored twice. Now, I’m not your typical wing, so I didn’t run around those quick little young’uns—they got the stiff arm—but it was a lot of fun seeing the field from a different position.

All in all, we played great. My MARFU roomie, Eli, had a great game at scrumhalf. My current roomies, Bui, showed off her stiff arm of death at fullback. Ashley, another of my MARFU teammates, played a beastly game at lock. Our forwards, in general, dominated the pitch. When they weren’t winning the CAA’s ball in rucks, they were running through the defense and scoring tries. We really clicked today—ironed out some wrinkles and progressed in our attack and defense. By Saturday, I expect that we’ll be firing on all cylinders.

Following the matches, we all gathered in the lawn and had ice cream and cupcakes to celebrate the fourth. And by that I mean we had fruit options, but I went for the Fat Boy ice cream sandwich. I also had a Philly cheesesteak and a couple (ok it was four) fries at dinner (woo hoo for 10% nutritional cheating). I have to say that the food here at UNCo had been pretty darn-tootin’ good. They’ve had a variety of options, even fried food for the band campers (I’ve heard that grease and batter are really good for blowing into instruments and finger mobility). However, the Philly cheesesteak left something to be desired—as in, I desired more steak and more better steak—but then how can one expect Greely, Colorado to perfect a cheesesteak from Philly. Colorado, I hear, is better with green chili.

There were also fireworks tonight. We had been told that there would be none, due to the fires and general dryness of the state, but Greely put on a dag-gum good show. Happy Fourth, everyone!

The Tao of Rugby

Just wanted to blog about a couple of things before I head off to bed tonight. First, I finished my book tonight. I was reading “A Scanner Darkly” before I joined a book club and was never able to finish it, but I did tonight. For those of you who are familiar with the book…I think rugby—these camps, the little worlds we enter—can be like Substance D (without the permanent psychosis). What I mean is that, we loose touch with our lives a little. Our jobs, our families seem as though a dream, a hallucination. Our reality is split into the freakish rugby world—a world of (p)recovery, competition, recovery, meetings, video, nutrition, treatment, etc—and a reverie of home. It is so important, in this environment, to stay in touch with our other life, and when we’ve returned to said life, to embrace the rugby lifestyle. A balance is what I speak of, my dears.

My roomie, Bui, and I both brought copies of the Tao Te Ching to camp, and I was telling her about one of my favorite chapters today (chapter 23, if you want to look it up). I’d like to share with you chapter 9:

Fill your bowl to the brim
and it will spill.
Keep sharpening your knife
and it will blunt.
Chase after money and security
and your heart will never unclench.
Care about people's approval
and you will be their prisoner.

Do your work, then step back.
The only path to serenity.

On a lighter note, our (a bunch of the Great White gals) lunch today included what was probably the best rugby-mealtime-topical discussion ever. I can’t really say what it was (the Masons are rubbing off on us) we discussed, but it was hilarious. Also, at dinner, the band campers were sporting some very festive and patriotic gear—big Ole Glory polo shirts. Shaina’s conversation with one such camper:

Shaina—Hey, I’ll swap you shirts.

Camper—Well, I don’t really know if I can. You see, we’re supposed to wear these tomorrow for…

Shaina—Look, if it’s a “no,” just tell me, because there are a lot more of you I need to ask if that’s the case.

USA Camp Day 3--The Masons and Fruit Salad in a Bag

Meetings filled a majority of the day today. We had nutrition meetings in the morning, a USADA (United States Anti-Doping Agency) meeting after lunch, and a secret meeting with the Masons running the Colorado Masonic Band Camp here at UNCo. I can’t tell you much about the last meeting of the day, but after they took our blindfolds off, we all shook a leg to some old Glen Miller jazz.

Ok, so I’m lying about the last meeting. I’ll go ahead and say that so there is no confusion. But, there is a Colorado Masonic Band Camp being held here. I’m not exactly sure how the Masons got involved in holding band camps. It’s probably a big secret anyway, so I’m not overly concerned with solving that little enigma.

Our last meeting was a little “Athlete Education,” introduction to performing in a 72-hour cycle. Per usual, the meetings were super informative, but it felt like they were shorter than meetings at previous camps. I, for one, enjoyed the cut in meeting duration. I didn’t feel like I was fighting fatigue for control of my attention span. I suppose not having a full-blown practice today helped as well. Instead of busting ass, post-match in the 100 degree heat, we had a pool session in the morning (yes, I jumped off the diving board) and a brief walk/jog/yog thru in the evening.

Today was geared more toward recovery with more social interaction, rather than prep (which we’ll do tomorrow) and team cohesion. But then again, we’re starting our (p)recovery now, and social interaction generally fosters team cohesion.

One last little happening of interest, and then I will close, as I have in the last few blogs, with a “Good Night.” The UNCo dinning hall doesn’t allow you to bring bags or water bottles or other containers inside, nor do they allow you to take any food or beverages out (not even apples or bananas). “Silly,” you say. “Bull-turds,” I say (again, I’m watching my swearing). I understand that this is a money-saving measure, but I think a meal plan should effectively nourish a student purchasing said plan, and if that student (or USA rugby player) feels that they’ll need a piece of fruit between designated feedings, then allow them to have it.

Anyway, as I said, I’m sure UNCo could probably give me quite a few valid and sensible reasons for this policy, but that’s not the point of my story. Since we can’t carry food out, we have come up with some inventive ways of sneaking it out. A day ago, I put a pear under my shirt, and today Sadie, with the help of some Great White players, devised a pretty darned good way of smuggling fruit salad.

Having just come from a field session, Sadie’s shoulder was wrapped up with an ice bag, and she was raving about the fruit salad. Of course, when she asked politely, as Sadie does, to carry out a wee amount in a to-go cup, she was turned away like a tatterdemalion, homeless child. Seeing the sad look of utter disappointment on Sadie’s innocent face, Shania suggested that she run the contraband out in a container, and I suggested her ice bag. Her look of disappointment melded away and her normal beatific glow returned, as she transferred a bowl of fruit salad into her recycled ice bag, and I’m sure that she’s indulging in that vomit-looking fruit-salad-in-a-bag as I post this.

Win for White and Continuing the Creepy at DIA

Day two is in the books, though I don’t think anyone actually has a camp log, or perhaps Roshna (our manager) carries one around, or maybe I’ll eventually write a book about my rugby experiences and maybe day two of this camp will make the book. Then it will in fact be in a book. Now I’m rambling.

I am enjoying camp. Of course, I enjoy the rugby and the rugby people. I also appreciate the camp’s format. Though I haven’t been to many of these camps, all of the others have been drills, unit work, meetings, and some live play here and there. This camp is set up to simulate an international tour. We’ve been divided up into teams, as I said in an earlier blog, and we’re playing three full matches over the course of the 10-day-span. All of the drills and unit work we’re doing happens within our respective teams—basically, we have practices.

Today we all played our first match. Team Red played the College All-Americans. The CAA were up at the half, but Red rallied in the second and took the match. We, Team White/the Great Whites/the Sharks, beat Team Blue in our match. Though Blue threatened us early, we held our defensive lines and were able to win ball and counter. Our first score set off a couple more scores and we were up at halftime something like 20-3, or 18-3, or whatever we had to their three (I’m 99.967% sure they had three at the half).

The second half was more of a back-and-forth battle for match control. No team really controlled the half, but I’m pretty sure we outscored them in the second as well…actually, with V scoring about 15 tries, I don’t know how they could have outscored us in any half. Long story short: we won, and we played pretty darned (I need to watch my cursing) good doing so (considering that we’ve only been playing with each other for less than two days.

Right now, I’m a little sore and a little tired (nothing unusual in the rugby world), but I promised pics from the Denver Airport. Unfortunately, my phone happens to be the dumbest smart phone in existence, and I would prefer not to wait on images to upload to this blog anyway, because the wireless is a bit spotty in my dorm room. So, if you’re not too technologically lazy, here are some links to the murals:

http://www.bibliotecapleyades.net/sociopolitica/denver/esp_denverairport_photogall.htm

http://www.bibliotecapleyades.net/sociopolitica/denver/murals.htm

Some of these are repeats, and some are parts of the larger murals, but you get the picture. I think my favorite is the gas-mask-Nazi-samurai swatting the peace dove like a fly…and when I say favorite, I’m basing that judgment solely on level of creepiness. The one with representatives from different countries takes a close second. I mean there’s a boy-scout holding a bunch of swords, and at the top, in the middle of the mural, the Fonz makes an appearance (try and find him).

That’s all for now. My bed beckons.  

Zombie Horse and the Great Whites

So, I have to talk about the craziness that is Denver International Airport. First, and most obvious, it’s a freaking airport. It’s going to be loaded to the tooth with random crazies, the really anxious, the spatially unaware, the hurriers, the hurriers who don’t have to hurry, the inconsiderate, the spatially unaware inconsiderate with large baggage, etc. However, what separates Denver from any airport in which I’ve ever had the chance to alight is its artwork—from the 32-foot blue, demonic, emaciated, creepy horse statue, dubbed Bluecifer by some of its fans/frenemies and “that scary fucking horse zombie” by me, to the crazy, Nazi, all-the-colors-of-the-world murals near the baggage claim areas. I don’t have that much time to go into them all right now (and by that I mean I don’t have much time until my eyes uncontrollably close and I drift into dreamland), so if you have time, google Bluecifer. If you guys are skeptical about its demonic roots, just know that it killed its maker—the flesh-eating head of ole Crazy Eyes fell and severed an artery in the guys leg.

I’ll post pictures of some of the artwork tomorrow, but right now, I’d like to touch on camp before I hit the sack. First, the sad news. My fellow MARFU teammate, Eli White, and I are, for the first time not bed buddies. Every event in which Eli and I have competed, we have shared a room, and I have gotten closer to Grover than any other stuffed animal since that big lion I had in my youth. The good news is that we’re both on the same team—the white team—and it is a kick-ass squad.

After getting all settled in the dorms (we’re staying at UNC…not the baby blue one, the North Colorado one), we had a meeting (go figure), followed by a team meeting, and then practice…followed by another team meeting. The consensus from the white team—the Great Whites—is that we all did a pretty darned good job of adapting to one another’s play and to the system today (as well as the altitude).

Tomorrow we play the blue team, who also has a good squad. We’ll see if good is good enough to trump kick-ass. I don’t think it will be, and if I were a betting woman (actually I am, but only on horses…just not Bluecifer), I’d put my money on white. Ok, I’ve written just about as much as I can without passing out. Goodnight Denver Moon. Goodnight zombie horse. Goodnight rugby world.

Camp Commences Tomorrow

Camp begins tomorrow. I’m at the Atlanta airport now, waiting on my connecting flight to Denver (4hr 45min layover). Side note on the Atlanta airport—it, like many other airports, doesn’t have free WiFi (which is bullshit, but I’m not going to comment on that now, because I’m in a very cheerful and peaceful place at the moment), but what’s worse, is that it has an option for free, limited browsing. You can only access certain websites, but it’s free.

So, I’m thinking it’s going to let you browse quite a few sites, but the big money sites (facebook, email sites, twitter, etc) will be off limits. Not the case. Everything is off limits, except some dinky ass sites on some Georgia museums, history, commerce, government, traffic, etc. Oh, and you can check the weather. Wooptie doo. Here’s the forecast—el Diablo set the thermostat on fuego. I mean as much as I would love to learn about the city that inspired many episodes of Designing Women, I’d rather watch last night’s episode of Swamp People, so don’t tease me with some empty little promise of limited access, when what you really mean is that the lights are, in fact, out in Georgia, unless you want to get mugged by some internet provider’s fees. Enough ranting.

Camp gets down with the get down tomorrow, and surprisingly I’m not really all that nervous about it—not like I was last year. I suppose it’s because I’m more familiar with these camps, because I’m more prepared (physically and mentally), because I’ve formed friendships with a lot of the girls, etc. Really, I’m not so much nervous as anxious. I want to get shit started. I enjoy convening with the rugby elite. I enjoy meeting with others who share my need to lift heavy things, run to no specific point and back again, jump and turn in awkward directions, stretch relatively unknown muscles for the cumulative goal of getting better at rugby. And I enjoy getting better at rugby with them. I know that’s not the only goal of this camp, after all it is a selection camp. We’re there to compete as well, but then I also enjoy competing with these ladies.

I guess you guys (you, my blog readers and followers—you, the few) have heard me say all of that before. I’m sure I’ll repeat myself, from time to time, on how much I enjoy rugby and rugby people. Just bear with me. I’ll also give you some colorful tidbits on camp happenings (or airport happenings), the scenery in Colorado, the rugby world, players, etc (some of them may not be true—I believe my made up stories about Tigertown had some fooled).

Anyway, I look forward to the rugby, of course, but also to keeping my awesome readers on the up and up. 

NASC Follow-up

I haven’t gotten around to updating my blog from last weekend. I’m sure that those of you who actually follow (shout out to Bonnie Hanks who follows this particular and the handful of others who follow my other blogs) and/or read my blog are aware that we lost in the championship match to the Midwest. Here’s the skinny on the match.

They beat us in the first half, but it wasn’t a runaway. We regained our footing at the start of the second, and scored a try. But then the floodwaters were too much, our dam burst, and the runaway commenced.

Though they smoked us in the second half, we didn’t fall apart. We took it like the 300 Spartans and went down together. Ok, so we weren’t fighting thousands of Persians (though those corn-fed Midwest girls are certainly comparable), but my point is we went down the way we earned our spot in the championship—as a solidified unit and scrappy as hell.

So yeah, we lost, but all in all it was a great time. The NASC tournament always is. It’s a special event where all the rugby freaks can convene and beat the shit out of each other. And awesome things happen, like getting to hang out with old friends, getting to visit different parts of the country, getting to play rugby against some of the best in the country, getting kicked in the face with the ball twice in one match. There’s nothing like it, and I think I speak for a majority of the players when I say that I hope there are more of these tournaments.

I mean if it wasn’t for the NASC tournament, I probably wouldn’t have run into Laura Hanks for another 10 years. Hanks is a friend from way-back. We played AAU basketball together for the Lady Cavs out of Charlottesville VA.

We were trouble. Always into something—Hanky and Pankey. I’ll tell you guys a few things you probably didn’t know about ole Hanky and then I’ll close. First, she plays rugby like she played basketball—like a bowling ball. But then, that’s kinda how I played as well, which makes rugby a better sport for us, since there are no fouls. She also had a knee brace with a smell that could knock the flies off a shit-wagon. And when I said we were trouble…once, at a Five Star camp, we decided that we would steal as many things on campus and hoard the stuff in our room. With the help of Gillian Gumble (Bryant’s daughter), we managed to get several complete sets of dinnerware (trays and napkin dispensers included) and I believe a fire extinguisher, all of which stayed on campus when we left.

Anyway, Hanky and I also got to play against each other in the final at NASCs. I guess we were rugby freaks from the start—probably why we got along so well. 

Hearing the Music

So many great moments today. I don’t know where to start. Really. I’m sitting here, watching Pretty Woman and I have no idea where to start. Ok. Practice—let’s start there.

We had a good one—not too demanding but productive. While working on our kick offs, Primo fell trying to field one. It was one of those spills that is funnier, because the faller doesn’t actually acknowledge that she’s falling, because she’s still trying to complete whatever task she set out upon. Unfortunately, Primo didn’t catch the ball, but ate it instead. And that wasn’t even the fall of the day. Patch took care of that one.

After practice, after taking our ice baths in the babbling brook behind the pitch, we came across an abandoned football (you guys like all of that alliteration?). Patch, all set to launch one, took an errant step onto some loose gravel and bit it. Her fall was that limbs-flailing-dust-flying-graceless-thud kind of fall. It was awesome.

We figure we’d get all of that out of our systems before taking the pitch tomorrow. Tomorrow is going to be the time for grace and balance, so we’re risking a little embarrassment now, so that we’ll have plenty stored up tomorrow.

We also took time to bond and fuel our bodies in preparation for tomorrow, though we had a little more bonding time than we had planned at the restaurant. Food was appetizing. Service was slooow. Dipping sauce was magic. We ate at Emilia’s Garden, which was more like Emilia’s living room, with Emilia’s grunge grandson waiting on us. Though we apparently caught the kitchen “off guard” with our reservation that we’d set two weeks prior and a couple of preliminary phone calls to ensure that everything would be set for us, we used some of the down time to give our coaches and managers some props, so it wasn’t a bust.

The rookies capped off the night with their skit, which was pretty good, though no one can do a Richard impression quite like Mo. Now, I’m ready to dream sweet dreams about taking home some hardware tomorrow. I mean, I think we’ll get some hardware regardless of the outcome. Again, I don’t want to mess with karma, or a jinx, or a fuku, a curse, summon locusts, or a flood, or anything along those lines, so I’m not going to try to predict outcomes.

I will say that we are ready. Just like the NRU match, we will bite and claw. The Midwest better expect to get hit hard, to receive stiff arms, to be uncomfortable. This MARFU team is pretty special. We are a team of all-stars that play as a team. That’s not so very easy to find. Mostly you see all-star teams that don’t quite gel, or that are full of individual play that is never soluble, never harmonious. 

For the most part, we hear the music. We play the same tune, and it’s beautiful when we hit all the notes too, because we wind up beating defending championships and surprising everyone. We’re going to bring that tomorrow, and hopefully we’ll give everyone a good song or two.

"Hey Remember That Time We Beat NRU"

What did I say?

I feel like that sums it up, but I will elaborate. We beat NRU today. 14-10. Close. Tough. A battle. An assault. A campaign. They scored in the first. We didn’t. We went up in the second. Scored again. And then they evened the try tally. But we made our kicks. And we won. If you didn’t know, NRU has won the NASCs four years in a row. I don’t even know when MARFU beat them last (that is before 6 hours ago).

This was one of the sweetest victories of which I’ve ever had the unbelievable chance to be a part. I knew we were ready for a grueling physical clash in the humid Pennsylvania heat, and I knew NRU would have to man up to beat us. They wouldn’t be able to mosey on past us, with a casual brushing of the shoulder, on their way to defending their crown—they would have to defend it against us first. However, I didn’t know that we would beat them, although I wanted it, and I knew we were capable of it. It feels amazing to have done it.

A few match-related notes, and then I’m off to bed. This MARFU team is awesome—from our hard-hitting pack to our speedy wings—and we had to put together an amazing game to beat an extremely tough NRU team.

Did anyone notice that we played most of the match in the end closest to the parking lot? I didn’t mind it so much in the second half, but it was a killer defending our end for a majority of the first half. Speaking of killers, what about the effin’ heat, and the fact that we didn’t get any water (after that first, quick try) until about five minutes left in the first half. That sucked.

Also, all of you players, make a mental note that the scoreboard clock is not, in fact, the official game clock. I made the mistake of assuming it was and kicking the ball out at, what I thought was, the end of the first half. Mea culpa. Actually, mea culpa for about three of my kicks for touch, plus the first one.

Lastly, I am offering a reward to anyone who can show me where running out is explicitly prohibited and results in a penalty. Seriously. I haven’t decided the reward yet—maybe an ice cream cone at the little parlor on the corner, or the ten dollars that I will inevitably owe someone for our coaches gifts, or maybe a sweet MARFU visor…no, strike that, not the visor.

Anyway, I’m off to sleep now. Can’t wait for another 5-star continental breakfast…we had danishes, guys.

**Title ©Eli White

NASCs in Pittsburgh

Here in Pittsburgh. NASC tournament 2012, though our (MARFU) shorts say 2010. Seriously, if you’re here and you’re not MARFU, take a gander at our otherwise very comfortable, stylish shorts. “MARFU All-Stars 2010.” Anywhere I can find a DeLorean with a flux capacitor and some plutonium?

We play the NRU tomorrow. They beat us two weeks ago—they put up a lot of points and we put a few. It won’t happen again. Don’t misread that. I didn’t say we’re going to beat the NRU—I won’t chance a jinx or mix arrogance with karma. I’m just saying that we are ready, capable, and anxious to redress our mistakes. This match will be closer. They will be uncomfortable at least. At most, their discomfort will reflect on the scoreboard and we will upset last year’s champs.

NRU and tomorrow’s match aside, I’m digging Pittsburgh (or the area outside Pittsburgh). The people are pleasant, the produce is cheap, the hills are bucolic, and the weather is nearly perfect, save the humidity and a chance of rain. I’m also digging the water pressure in the shower at the Days Inn in Pittsburgh/outskirts of Pittsburgh. Last year, in Chula Vista, the water pressure was similar to that of the mizzle from a dollar store water gun. There were also bed bugs, or aphids, or fleas, or chiggers, or something in a couple of the beds in Chula Vista, and a family of illegal aliens, or the homeless, or pygmies, or something living in the back parking lot, which are all delightfully absent here.

In our back parking lot is a grassy knoll, not the infamous one, where we will do yoga tomorrow morning after our continental breakfast, which (and I’m saying this not as a jab, but as someone who is familiar with the continental breakfasts of Days Inns, and Quality Inns, and other budget motels) will amount to a modicum of fruit, some sort of carbs (bagels, if we’re lucky, toast, if not), perhaps some instant oatmeal, and, if we’re really lucky and have hit the jackpot of budget motels, a waffle maker. But that’s better than nothing at all, and the economical benefits will surely accentuate the savoriness.

Now, I’m off to dreamland where I hope to visualize some positive rugby stuff. My mom always said that you play better when you have good dreams. 

Ruggerfest with MARFU

Rugby is starting to throw coal in the fires of my schedule. Spring season is past bloom and beginning to whither, but the time for regional all-star rugby has just sprouted. This weekend, we (MARFU) are in DC for Ruggerfest. Next weekend, FU will be at the Rites of Spring (I'll be in Mechanicsville with James River, playing Frederick). Then it's off to Delaware to play NRU, and following a brief reprieve (a rare weekend off), FU will travel to Pittsburgh for the NASCs.

In our first match, at Ruggerfest, we played the Amazons. Though they beat us, they didn't trample us, and we put up a decent fight. I suppose it was a good debut--after all, we haven't played together in about 10 months, and our squad looks a lot different this year. We're all getting acclimated to one another's play, and trying to effectively fit that into our team's blueprint, so a loss to a team that has been together for years, isn't a terrible setback.

Our second match pitted us against another such team in Beantown. We handled them far better. I can't remember how many we scored, but they didn't. It was a defensive triumph, though we still have wrinkles to iron out so that we can play cleaner, crisper, more consistent rugby. That was one of our troubles in the first match, but we improved (though still not enough) in the second.

Tomorrow, we'll take on the DC Furies. Their squad is at a bit of a disadvantage, because MARFU has expropriated some of their players. We're looking to win this match, for the victory's sake, but also so that we get a chance to redress our loss to the Amazons, who won both of their matches today so will be in the finals regardless of their performance in their first match tomorrow.

Whoever we play, another good thing is the promise of an improvement in the cold, gloomy weather we had for most of the day today. As excited as I am, as I always am, to play rugby, a nice day in which to play it is even better. Maybe tomorrow I won't feel like one of those oldsters, with their aching joints, mumbling, "Rain's a'comin." 

Anxious to Rail Somebody

It’s been about two and a half months since I’ve played rugby competitively. I feel antsy about that. I have this pervading itch to rail someone. It’s under my skin and suffuses through my blood. My competitive yens and means to satisfy them are out of equipoise.

We (James River) play Longwood (a college side) tomorrow. Thank god, God, Allah, Jehovah, Madonna (the singer and the virgin), and whoever else you may worship. I need my rugby fix. I need the adrenaline high, the surge of energy you get when you see a gap in the defense, the rush of blood to your head when you make a bone-popping hit. I’m playing flanker, so I’ll probably have a great deal of those hits. I can’t wait.

Though we’re playing a younger, less experienced college side, I’m anxious to see how and where my Eagle 365 lifestyle has paid off. I feel like 87 million bucks and I can’t wait to put that feeling to use on the pitch.

I’ve been digging our new Eagle 365 workouts and am almost done with the cycle. Though I missed the Eagle training weekend, last month, because I was celebrating my mother’s birthday with her, I am looking forward to making a few this spring and summer. I heard that there was some fitness testing at the last one, and I am super excited about that (<-- that’s sarcasm).

I don’t know what it is about the words “fitness testing” that make an athlete cringe (and don’t trust any athlete who tells you that they enjoy fitness testing). I think maybe it’s the association of the word “fitness” to all of that stuff that we’d rather not do (the conditioning, preparation, drill work, etc), but do because we love our sport and we love it even more when we get better, coupled with the anxiety that comes with the word “testing,” the feeling of being weighed and measured. The truth is fitness testing isn’t so bad, and it isn’t anything to which any serious athlete isn’t already accustomed.

Anyway, I’ve digressed, though I don’t think digression is possible when there’s no real point being made. I’m just excited about playing rugby this weekend and thought I’d share. Keep the Longwood ladies in your prayers, meditations, chants, etc…I plan on railing a few tomorrow.

Back to "Real Life": Some Things I've Learned to Help the Transition

Acclimating myself into the “real world”—the world of beating traffic, packing lunches, motorists who haven’t yet mastered the proper direction of their turn signals, deadlines, lazy cashiers, high school kids at the gym who have spatial awareness problems—after a camp or event has usually been an unsettling process.

When you’re in that rugby world—the world of physical exertion, proper recovery, team meetings, ice baths, drills—every action seems to be calculated for the specific purpose of meeting a goal, whether it be improvement, performance or anything else. Your world seems to be circumscribed by your schedule, your commitment to the team, your commitment to performing and improving and the sport in general. In a manner of speaking, you’re tightly wound by the strings of rugby (or that’s how it is for me).

When you return to the real world, outside factors—factors that don’t touch you in a training facility, a rugby pitch or a hotel room—have the tendency to unwind those strings. Things like paying bills, dealing with the morning and afternoon rushes, grocery shopping, job stresses and the like take precedence, once again, and you have to reshuffle yourself so that you can deal with these factors that were only vestiges of a far off life while you were in training or competition.

When I was in college, I was on an athletic scholarship for basketball. I am familiar with the balancing act of “athletic performance meets day-to-day life.” However in college, basketball (my old flame) was always in the forefront. I was under contract (the scholarship) for four years, and practices and competition were year-round parts of my life. I didn’t have to shift gears, so to speak, from athletic mode and “real life” mode. I was a student-athlete—it was my job to be that. This shifting gears is new to me, and though I’m becoming better at it, I still yearn for those student-athlete days, when the high-performance life was, by the default of the title itself, ingrained into the “real world.”

For those eight women, who don’t have to do the shifting anymore—those eight rugby players who are now professional athletes—I am happy. I hope that we, the rugby world, can continue the progression of relieving financial burden for our hard-working players, and so make competing and training easier.

We are working on integrating the high-performance rugby lifestyle in our respective “real worlds,” by exchanging information, staying as close to our teammates as possible and getting together to train and compete whenever possible. As far as our own daily lives go, it is up to us to keep the high-performance mindset and to eliminate distracting factors, or at least live with them. Personally, I’ve managed to utilize small things and resources to help me do this, and I would like to share.

Calendars and planners—I have several calendars and planners for various aspects of my life. I have a workout calendar, a daily planner and a sort-of outside-projects-personal-livelihood planner. I have all of these in journal medium, and I have put them on my computer. It takes me about 5 minutes total, per day, to jot down tasks and check them off, and it probably saves me hours by keeping me more organized and less distracted.

Goals/Progress Journals—I’ve always had a workout journal, in which I record my workouts so that I can keep track of my progress. Recently, I’ve incorporated a “Goals” journal for my training, and have been reflecting in each of my various planners on how/if/when I’ve completed different tasks (after all to-do lists are just goals). This setting goals and reflecting on them works to get you closer to those goals and (if you have one) closer to your ultimate goal, whatever that may be.

Positive People—It’s so important to surround yourself with people who share your work-ethic/values/goals. I’m not saying that the occasional challenge isn’t welcome, just as long as it’s a positive challenge. More than that, I’ve found that getting others excited about being more healthy, getting in better physical shape, becoming better rugby players, etc keeps you on the right track as well.

These are just a few ways I’ve dealt with, not only, the transition from camps/competitions back to real life, but also employing a high-performance mindset and practice in daily life. Granted, I’m not an expert at this…just yet, but I thought I’d at least share what I’ve learned. I think what it all boils down to—at the very core of accomplishing anything—is becoming closer to your work. I say, embrace it, and use every resource/medium to get as close as you can.

End of Camp and Truth About Tigertown

To Do List: 1) Sign up for frequent flyer programs, 2) Get new/second, better paying job, 3) Develop a system of packing that allows a person to stuff 80lbs of clothes/Gatorade products into a duffle bag without busting a zipper, 4) Patent said packing system and make lots of money off of it, 5) Develop a line of comfortable, functional, fashionable traveling clothes, 6) Make lots of money off of said line, 7) Invest a great portion of money from 4 and 6 in USA Rugby.

Camp is officially over. Now, I am cheating on my nutrition plan (it’s okay to cheat 10% of the time), with a handful of Runts and a Diet Pepsi, at the Philadelphia airport. U.S. Airways was kind enough to get me on a slightly earlier flight through Philly, instead of Charlotte, and I’ll get back into Richmond around 10:30 or so, rather than 11:20 (I’ll take the extra 50 minutes of sleep). Tomorrow, I’ll take it easy. I’ll go to work, maybe a walk or a light jog afterward and then lots of sleep (and I will not be cheating on my nutrition plan).

Camp ended on some positive notes. Our last session, this morning, consisted of a team picture and video of drills that we had done throughout the week, which will be posted on the Eagle 365 website (I don’t think the site is up just yet). We then had a team meeting that provided us with some closure as we reflected on camp, what we had accomplished, and some of our favorite moments. I’m sure Jenny Lui will have these moments and others recorded and will regale us with them via email at a later date (Jenny, if you didn’t have your quote book handy this trip, then I will print a retraction in a later blog).

I always go through a bit of withdrawal when I return to “real-life” after one of these camps/events/tours. I’m sure a lot of players do. You see, us freaks (again, see earlier blogs for context) like the company of other freaks, and these camps/events/tours are like one big freak convention.

The good news is that Tigertown is not actually a black hole, so all of us will be able to return home from the freak convention. It turns out it’s the “Florida home of the Detroit Tigers.” I suppose that, like geese and the elderly, the Tigers like to travel south for the winter. It’s too bad that I didn’t get a chance to meet any of them. I would have like to have gotten Mayor Cecil Fielder’s autograph.

Final Scrimmage and the "Sarcastic Clap"

The weather this morning reminded me of home for the first time since I’ve been here. Some of the girls from the Midwest even said that it was no warmer than their home, only in the Midwest, snow would probably be accompanying the cold (actually, I think JoJo, from Grand Rapids, said that they have snow now).

Despite the cold, we had a productive morning session. We worked a lot in our respective units doing positional drills and working on our attack. In one of our attacking drills we learned about the “sarcastic clap.” It’s slower than a “fast clap,” faster than a “slow clap,” more rhythmic than a “golf clap,” and can be used to measure the proper speed of the ball moving quickly down an offensive line.

Lunch here at camp has been consistent. Usually, there is something on the menu that is pretty tasty, especially for food that has been prepared in bulk. Today it was the chicken kabobs. Of course, the staples are always the same—the salad, fruit, veggies—but, I have to say that the food here has been good.

For the first time in our time here at camp, we got a mid-day break. Our coaches cancelled the 1pm meeting and gave us time to rest and recover before the evening session at 3pm. I feel like it was a good decision, because our evening session included a real 15v15 abridged (20min halves) game.

I think everyone here had been looking forward to the game and we all played like it. Our coach, Pete Steinberg, commented, after the game, that it was hard to analyze players, because he got caught up in watching a good rugby game. The red team (yours truly played fullback and outside center for red) won the match. For a majority of the first 20mins, blue dominated the breakdowns, and red played defense. However, when red got the ball they were very efficient on offense. This carried over to the second half and that efficiency translated into several tries. Blue also got into a rhythm, but theirs came later in the second 20mins, but did put them on the board.

After the long awaited scrimmage, we had dinner and our evening meeting, where we discussed our future, the future of the program, what we did well at camp and what we need to improve. We also got a chance to “bedazzle” our Eagles Notebooks (I was a “sticker-kid,” so mine is, well, covered in stickers). Tomorrow, we’ll have meetings and a skills session, but the meat of the physical activity in camp is done. It feels good.

An update on Tigertown: I was informed today that Tigertown isn’t an actual place. There is a place in Florida called Lakeland, but Tigertown isn’t a town or a place in Florida. From this knowledge, and some rather mysterious happenings here at camp, I have deduced that Tigertown is, in fact, a black hole. These mysterious happenings include virtually no gravity during the vertical test (for some players), the high-energy collisions demonstrated by Jamie Burke, The Kug, and Captain Turley, and the time warp that happens when players step into the ice bath (time actually stops sometimes). Apparently, it is impossible to escape a black hole, so here’s to hoping that modern science comes up with something in the next 14 or so hours.

The "Calming-Long-Pulse-Sounding" Test and More

Schedule for today: 7am breakfast, 8:30am-12pm meeting into beep test into morning session 1 into reflection into morning session 2, 12pm lunch, 1pm-5:30pm meeting into evening games into evening session, 5:30-7:30 ice baths into shower into dinner, 7:30-8:45 meeting…and done. Twas a busy day, but a very productive one.

The beep test turned out to be more like the “soothing-voice-even-tone” test, which was difficult to hear sometimes. I would have preferred some cacophonous noise that would have disrupted the air quality and perhaps have given the test an urgent quality. The CD that we had seemed to be saying, “Good job, you’re on level 2.4. Now it’s okay to run again.” I would have preferred something like, “You ain’t even halfway done, now get your ass to that line!” However, we all got through it and all agreed that it wasn’t as bad as our anxiousness and the wait made it seem. And, a big cheers to Kit Kat, who made the “semi-audible-tonally-pleasing” test her bitch.

The morning sessions involved a good amount of contact. I think my right knee absorbed the majority of my share of the contact. I promise I’m not whining (rugby players never whine). We worked on our rucking, defense and offense, and though we worked right up until lunch, we never dropped in our intensity levels. Lunch was short and sweet…sweet as in Sweet Baby Ray’s. Yeah, that’s right, we had BBQ smothered in Sweet Baby Ray’s sauce. Though I would have liked a little more time for finger licking, we had a nutrition meeting at 1pm, so we all had to slam our food and rush off.

In our nutrition meeting, we learned that we could be a Nutrition Kung Fu Panda, a Nutrition Ninja or a Nutrition Chuck Norris and we were all given some of the information and tools that would help us achieve Chuck Norris status. We then took to trying to improve our rugby game to the level of Chuck Norrisism.

The evenings have been the best part of our days thus far, mostly because they start with games. This evening some of the 7’s players switched with some of our players. In our games this evening, the field was shortened, so that we could work a lot on ball in contact skills and rucking and because the 7’s players specially requested more contact (kidding).

The long day concluded with ice baths, dinner and a meeting on Life Management, which emphasized the point I made in an earlier blog about USA rugby players literally paying for their chance to represent their country. Ladies and gentlemen, these are special women. These women (and there are many more, who aren’t at this camp) aren’t the millions arguing with the billions for thousands more, like our pro athletes. These women are the epitome of dedication and the purity of sport. They play and are dedicated, despite the cost (the literal cost and the physical cost). I suppose that’s what love is—that sometimes irrational, sometimes painful, always beautiful emotion that most of us hold as one of our supreme life goals.

Enough grandstanding. I was informed today, during our 9-minute lunch break that my story of Tigertown’s history may not be entirely true. There is another, far more bawdy, legend of Tigertown’s origins. As most of you history buffs know, Georgia was originally established as a debtor’s colony—a place where the “worthy poor” of Britain could work their way back into good financial standing. One such debtor, Wadsworth Tiggreson, found that the work was too demanding for the pittance he received at the day’s end. Feeling the excitement of the untethered possibilities that came with moving to a new place, he decided that dirt-under-the-nails work was not for him and slipped away one cloudless night.

For months he foraged along the gulf until, one day, he emerged in what seemed to be a clearing, but what he soon found to be a nearly deserted town. The only inhabitants were descendants of marooned sailors from the crew of the fountain-of-youth-seeking Ponce de Leon. No one really knows what exactly happened next or how he did it, but Tiggreson and the de Leon descendants managed to revive the town, with the help of one establishment in particular. The employees of this ill-reputed establishment became well known in nearby towns as Wadsworth’s Tigers and later as just the Tigers. Eventually, folks began calling the thriving town Tigertown, after the establishment that had given it economic CPR.

Fitness Testing and a Correction to the Last Blog

“No beep test this morning!” You can imagine how suspiciously excited we were upon hearing this. However, breaking news that the beep test would be tomorrow morning quickly routed the evanescent excitement.

Actually, none of us had any hope of the beep test disappearing from our itinerary, and really none of us were scared or too worried about it. The fact that it’s an assessment has awoken the competitive part of our brain, and we are all just anxious to get it done and get our results.

We did do a vertical test (thank you, years of basketball, you surely did pay off once again) and a 70m shuttle test (6 70m shuttles in 3 minutes), which will be used to assess our fatigue level/recovery rate/all that technical jazz. We also played rugby…well, not an actual game, but rugby with no set positions, less numbers, no scrums or lineouts and an abbreviated field. We’ll get to play tomorrow as well and again on Saturday. That makes all of the fitness assessments worthwhile.

The 7’s ladies and the collegiate all-Americans did some fitness of their own—the Death Flop. If you’re unfamiliar with the Death Flop, I’ll sum it up with this: sprints, flopping onto the ground, rolling and more sprints…nearly throwing up, lactate buildup and lightheadedness.

Speaking of the 7’s ladies, some of them are moving to San Diego, in the very near future, to begin new careers as professional athletes. I’ve had a chance to chat with a couple of the pros, and they are very excited at having this opportunity. I’m excited for them and for the game of rugby. Hopefully, with the efforts of our great coaching staffs and our dedicated players, the sport will gain some popularity here in the States and more of the women who have, for years, paid (both monetarily and physically) for their chance to represent their country in international competition will get rewarded for their efforts.

That’s all the rugby talk I have in me for the night. On a bit of an unrelated note, Tigertown FL was not, in fact, founded by rogue Detroit Tigers (as I mentioned in my earlier blog). I must have gotten confused with all of the Detroit memorabilia around here (I’m still not certain as to whether or not Cecil Fielder was the mayor at one time).

Actually, in the late 18th century, the import of exotic animals by American aristocracy was on the rise. A New Orleans gentleman, Mr. Dwayne Devereaux, had shipped to his home in the French Quarter a litter of tiger cubs from the Royal Essex Exotic Animal Company, in 1797. Six of the seven cubs survived the trip, and Mr Devereaux was a kind and loving pet owner to the survivors. However, Nature has the habit of rearing its head in the untamed. The tigers, Sissy, Missy, Muffy, Buffy and Carl, escaped from Mr. Devereaux’s home, after destroying his collection of stuffed wild game, and migrated along the Gulf of Mexico on into Florida.

Carl proved to be very virile, and Sissy, Missy, Muffy and Buffy proved to be very fertile. When settlers arrived a few years later, they found the forests of what is now Lakeland, teeming with tigers. Of course, tiger maulings soon became very unpopular among the settlers and so they immediately began a tiger-eradication process, but not before dubbing the little hamlet Tigertown.

Off to Tigertown (Which was founded by Detroit Tigers seeking refuge after the 1967 riot)

It’s been a while since 1) I’ve blogged about rugby and 2) I’ve played high-level rugby. Since my last blog, I’ve been to San Diego and back again (for the third time in 2011) for the NASC 7’s championships. We (MARFU) were the defending champions, however NRU and Pac Coast bested us, and we ended up playing in the 5th place game, which we won (in dominating fashion against the South).

Immediately after returning to a wind-blown Richmond, post hurricane Irene, I jumped right into our club season. We (James River) only lost two matches this Fall and were in a three-way tie for second in our division. However, we failed to put up the points needed to give us that second-place seed and a trip to the playoffs, so we were left to cheer for Raleigh, who represented MARFU in the National Championships, and who eventually won it all.

A couple of free weekends and a Christmas 7’s tournament later, I’m now playing rugby again, only now I’m back with this group of freaks (see earlier blogs for proper context)—these women, who can’t get enough of rugby and who have dedicated a lot of their time and much of their effort to becoming the cream of the rugby crop (I think the rugby “crop” is like a cross between aloe and mango—hardy and able to heal itself, but delicious and a little exotic). It feels good. It feels like a vacation, despite the fact that we’ll have our noses to the rugby grindstone for the next four days with practices, skills sessions, meetings and of course physical assessments (including the beep test).

Tonight, we’ll have a dinner and a meeting and will try to prepare ourselves for the physical assessments tomorrow. There are about 120 women here (15s, 7s and collegiate players), so I’m wondering how the dining hall will accommodate us.

We’re staying at a training facility in Tigertown (Lakeland, FL). Apparently, and I’m just going on my eductions, this is a spring training facility for the Detroit Tigers. Of course, my brilliant eductions were based on the tiger paw prints everywhere, the Detroit Tigers logo on everything and the fact that the dining hall threw up Tigers baseball cards on all of the tables.

The rooms are a bit smaller than those at the Olympic Training Center in Chula Vista, the bathrooms more sparse and apparently, there’s a random baseball player on our floor, with whom we may or may not be sharing a bathroom.

These details aside, we’re all anxious to start tomorrow—what I mean by anxious, is that we want to get the physical assessments done and play rugby. Breakfast at 7am…it’s time for me to sign off. Sweet rugby dreams.