We Know 15 Positions and Go for 80 Minutes

"Rugby is a beastly game played by gentlemen; soccer is a gentleman’s game played by beasts; football is a beastly game played by beasts." 

-- Henry Blaha

"Rugby is a wonderful show: dance, opera and, suddenly, the blood of a killing." 

--Richard Burton, Welsh Actor

Ruck me, Maul me, Make Me Scrum.

Last night, between the times of five o'clock PM and eight o'clock PM, my initiation to Fairfield Women's Rugby Team took place. 

Our coach met us at the school's massive playing field, its occupants including the men's rugby team (who, twenty minutes before had scared a high school soccer team off the field) and us. Around us towered the ancient counterpart to Bellermine Manor, an arena version of the old house. It looked like a Quidditch pitch in all honesty. I felt like Oliver Wood was gonna emerge and show me the snitch. We all got there early and mingled with the returning players. They're all so nice and hilarious and I love them all. Sporting short-shorts, t-shirts and colorful cleats, we walked to the center of the colossal field to meet our coach. It was ominous--surrounding us was this feeling of sheer and unadulterated strength. The cold stands were empty and ancient towers that graced the four points of the field emitted this hollow whistle from the evening wind blowing through them. The air smelt like spilt blood from previous games and sweat. But, like, victorious sweat. I dunno. It was just incredibly epic. 

Our coach is 26 years old. Our coach went to Fairfield prep and Fairfield University. Our coach is a beast. And...

Well.

He looks almost exactly like Professor Hesser. Hess Jr. Baby Hess. Like...I was stunned. I couldn't talk. 

*Pause for reaction....I'm looking at you, Cherry.*

First we learned how to pass. It's an extremely different game from anything else. I mean, if I had to compare it to another sport, it would be football but even when compared to football, Rugby is so much different. 

There are 15 positions, split into two groups: Forwards and Backs.

Games last roughly eighty minutes.

You can't pass the ball forward (@#%$&@* I'm having trouble with this one). Like, at all. Not even at your side. You have to pass behind you. Meaning, when running down the field, you have to be steep in order to be able to pass behind you and into the arms of a fellow team mate. 

Bawls, man.

And scoring is called a 'try'. When you pass the line you have to press the ball to the ground in order to score a point. Simply crossing the line isn't good enough for these people. 

There are also things called 'rucks' and 'scrumflies' and 'flyholds'. 

Oh, and PS: we don't wear protective padding or helmets. 

Just cleats and a mouthguard. And spandex. 

Fabulous. 

This may all seem annoyingly different and ridiculous but I am having the time of my life. I wasn't too bad during the first practice. I apparently have a knack for Rugby and never knew it. 

We drilled. And drilled. And drilled. Then ran laps. Then drilled and ran more laps. Then, SURPRISE, we drilled again. Half the field was ours while the other belonged to the hefty, 60-person men's rugby team. Us? Measly 30 players or so. But that's not bad at all. 

And our team is hawt. 

Afterward we huddled, all of us panting and sweat-drenched, a team captain welcomed the new comers and said how happy the team was to have us. We put ours hands in the middle, a colorful mosaic of girls streaked with mud. We were like a post card for rich New England prep schoolers. All in newly received FU rugby uniforms (which are POLOS) and black shorts, striped knee-highs and cleats. 

"On three, ladies."

"One-two-three---FAIRFIELD!"

I think I'm gonna like rugby.