At eighteen I joined a rugby club. Read the rest of this entry »
Of all the T-shirts I have owned this is my favorite. I traded for it in the 1970’s with a teammate from New Mexico.
As far as I know, it is the only known image of an aardvark as it breaks away from the pursuit and heads for the goal line. Read the rest of this entry »
It was scorching hot. The two teams surrounded the referee before the final match, the championship game. We were hot, dirty, bruised. Some would say we even smelled bad. It was an honest stink, earned from bruising tackles, long runs through six rugby games to meet for one last test.
We offered, instead of the ten minute halves for the final, how about playing seven minute halves, like all the previous games on this hot hot day. They snickered, “They can’t last, they’re weak… don’t do it” to their captain.
We beat them fourty-one to nothing playing ten minute halves.
The moral: Just because someone offers a compromise doesn’t mean they are weak. They may still be able to kick your butt. At least listen to their offer, and don’t piss them off.
YARS — yet another rugby story