Red Baron. This is the name given to me from the college rugby team I'm on. I played my first game this past weekend and here's what I have to say about it.
In high school I always wanted to play football but never had the chance. "You're a girl." "You're not tough enough." "I won't allow it." Even when me and a few other brutal gals in the school tried to make a 'Powder Puff' football team, the principal said no because an incident three years prior- uniforms were not provided and the ladies wore baller shorts and one had them pulled off of her to reveal a thong underneath for all faculty and parents to see.
Those comments came from adults but the students in my gym classes had other things to say about me. "THIS IS NOT FOOTBALL!" Said a girl once while playing ultimate frizbee as I nailed her ass to the ground. Another time whilst playing soccer, I knocked the wind out of a gal just by bumping into her. And another accidentally got a boot to the head.... while he was standing. Did I mention he was 6'1 at the time? Of course my favourite for last, playing capture the flag as a freshman with my youth group and running my youth pastor to the ground to capture the flag he possessed. He was not a small guy. I'm not a total ass by any means of the word, just stronger than what people would give me credit for with all of this aggression and nothing to take it out on. I just wanted something- anything to show not all gals are defenseless. Not all gals are wimps and need protecting. I also needed something to teach me how to channel the force more specifically.
That brings me to my third year of college- a rugby team. Now, I wasn't stoked at first, seeing as how what I'd heard and witnessed of other teams, all they did was drink in their spare time and they were all a bunch of asshats that had no other friends but themselves because no one wanted to tolerate their hard-headedness. Then I heard about who was going to be on the team and though, hey, maybe this will be different.... and it is. I don't know how, but said college I attend has managed to ring in the sweetest most genuine rugby players I've ever met. I watched their first game up in Montana- a defeat, but they learned a lot considering only a select few had even played before. As I watched I was more fascinated by the second, no time outs, no breaks every time someone hit the ground, pretty much a free for all with a little rules on tackling and such, but it was magic.
A women's team? Oh yes. That was the first thing that came to mind. If there was that many in high school that had wanted to play footballs, who's to say there wouldn't be as many women here that would want to play a sport we all would be fairly new to? I asked the captain how he got it started. He said they weren't even technically a team, just a club. The school didn't fund them yet, or arrange games for them to be at. Why the hell not? I wondered. When I returned to college, I talked to a coworker about a women's team. She was game, noting that she had played rugby a bit in Germany. We immediately started recruiting. I think the most we ever got to show was eight or nine... but as the week went on, there were a set four or five. Not enough to make a team by any means but the few of us still practiced with the guys.
Tuesday hit and practice was over, "So who is wanting to play for the game this weekend?" I saw guys all over raising their hands, and Little Tank (her designated rugby name) and I looked around questioningly, wondering if we should raise our hands or if we were even included. The Vice President looks back at me, "Red Baron, you coming?" "I'd like to go." I say in hopes. "Well alright then, go." A fellow player gives me a high five. Little Tank raised her hand to go too.
Friday at five, we met at the back of the field we normally met at. Our faculty member (a lady friend of one of the players) had gotten a 12-seater from the college and a little funding for gas and a couple hotel rooms. What a sweatheart. For the 20-somes of us, we split into the van and vehicles and were on our way. Got to our rooms, packed in there as we were, and woke the next morning to get to the field at seven forty five or so. A bit early we learned... games didn't start until ten. We were misinformed. Nevertheless, started throwing, did warmups, just what we'd do in practice but nothing hardcore before a game.
They even let me rock the faux hawk. Amen.
The first game, I was a flagger... or whatever the hell they call it. All I know is that it meant I had to stay parallel with the ball and if it went out of bounds I'd signal which team got it. That even meant going into enemy territory to be harassed by the jackasses calling my team fags and cheaters and harassing me about the assigned job I had to do. "I'd appreciate it if you'd stop talking shit on my team, I'm standing right here." A little snickering, but they backed off. We lost. But not as badly as the first weekend, so we weren't as down as you'd expect.
Then as another game was happening and we were waiting for our second game, the ref from our game took us aside and gave us some pointers. We watched the rest of the game, then started getting ready for the final game. "Whoever did not play last game is starting for this one." Ohhhhh lawrd. I looked at Little Tank and shook my head. This was it. Ohh boy. I tried not to get nervous. I'm Thibs, I'm unshakable. I told myself. Those that know me know that I tell myself this when I'm nervous. Snakebites out, ring off, socks on, breathe. "You feel comfortable being the hooker?" says the President. "As long as I know what it is." They explain I'm to hook the ball with my feet whilst the team clusterfucks with me for a battle royale. (My interpretation hehe) "Okay." We practice the formation a bit. It was showtime. I listened to orders and followed that damn ball wherever it went. Lots of running. Tackling. Even got shouldered to the boob by what appeared to be an Asian/ Filipino mix. It was epic.
We lost that game too, and if I remember correctly by a smaller dent that the previous game. I wasn't too depressed about it at all. I played damn RUGBY! The team was super supportive of each other, giving the 'good game' hand slaps and 'you did a good job' gestures. We had a shit ton of pizza afterwards and cake from one of the guy's anniversaries. His gal was there to bandage the players up. Adorable.
This has been quite the post, one of my longest but if you read all the way through thanks. It's been a while but I'll try to stay on it. This is a shout out to my fellow team members for making this sport what I wanted it to be. Just an odd cluster of people getting together to represent something though that something might be different for everyone.
In high school I always wanted to play football but never had the chance. "You're a girl." "You're not tough enough." "I won't allow it." Even when me and a few other brutal gals in the school tried to make a 'Powder Puff' football team, the principal said no because an incident three years prior- uniforms were not provided and the ladies wore baller shorts and one had them pulled off of her to reveal a thong underneath for all faculty and parents to see.
Those comments came from adults but the students in my gym classes had other things to say about me. "THIS IS NOT FOOTBALL!" Said a girl once while playing ultimate frizbee as I nailed her ass to the ground. Another time whilst playing soccer, I knocked the wind out of a gal just by bumping into her. And another accidentally got a boot to the head.... while he was standing. Did I mention he was 6'1 at the time? Of course my favourite for last, playing capture the flag as a freshman with my youth group and running my youth pastor to the ground to capture the flag he possessed. He was not a small guy. I'm not a total ass by any means of the word, just stronger than what people would give me credit for with all of this aggression and nothing to take it out on. I just wanted something- anything to show not all gals are defenseless. Not all gals are wimps and need protecting. I also needed something to teach me how to channel the force more specifically.
That brings me to my third year of college- a rugby team. Now, I wasn't stoked at first, seeing as how what I'd heard and witnessed of other teams, all they did was drink in their spare time and they were all a bunch of asshats that had no other friends but themselves because no one wanted to tolerate their hard-headedness. Then I heard about who was going to be on the team and though, hey, maybe this will be different.... and it is. I don't know how, but said college I attend has managed to ring in the sweetest most genuine rugby players I've ever met. I watched their first game up in Montana- a defeat, but they learned a lot considering only a select few had even played before. As I watched I was more fascinated by the second, no time outs, no breaks every time someone hit the ground, pretty much a free for all with a little rules on tackling and such, but it was magic.
A women's team? Oh yes. That was the first thing that came to mind. If there was that many in high school that had wanted to play footballs, who's to say there wouldn't be as many women here that would want to play a sport we all would be fairly new to? I asked the captain how he got it started. He said they weren't even technically a team, just a club. The school didn't fund them yet, or arrange games for them to be at. Why the hell not? I wondered. When I returned to college, I talked to a coworker about a women's team. She was game, noting that she had played rugby a bit in Germany. We immediately started recruiting. I think the most we ever got to show was eight or nine... but as the week went on, there were a set four or five. Not enough to make a team by any means but the few of us still practiced with the guys.
Tuesday hit and practice was over, "So who is wanting to play for the game this weekend?" I saw guys all over raising their hands, and Little Tank (her designated rugby name) and I looked around questioningly, wondering if we should raise our hands or if we were even included. The Vice President looks back at me, "Red Baron, you coming?" "I'd like to go." I say in hopes. "Well alright then, go." A fellow player gives me a high five. Little Tank raised her hand to go too.
Friday at five, we met at the back of the field we normally met at. Our faculty member (a lady friend of one of the players) had gotten a 12-seater from the college and a little funding for gas and a couple hotel rooms. What a sweatheart. For the 20-somes of us, we split into the van and vehicles and were on our way. Got to our rooms, packed in there as we were, and woke the next morning to get to the field at seven forty five or so. A bit early we learned... games didn't start until ten. We were misinformed. Nevertheless, started throwing, did warmups, just what we'd do in practice but nothing hardcore before a game.
They even let me rock the faux hawk. Amen.
The first game, I was a flagger... or whatever the hell they call it. All I know is that it meant I had to stay parallel with the ball and if it went out of bounds I'd signal which team got it. That even meant going into enemy territory to be harassed by the jackasses calling my team fags and cheaters and harassing me about the assigned job I had to do. "I'd appreciate it if you'd stop talking shit on my team, I'm standing right here." A little snickering, but they backed off. We lost. But not as badly as the first weekend, so we weren't as down as you'd expect.
Then as another game was happening and we were waiting for our second game, the ref from our game took us aside and gave us some pointers. We watched the rest of the game, then started getting ready for the final game. "Whoever did not play last game is starting for this one." Ohhhhh lawrd. I looked at Little Tank and shook my head. This was it. Ohh boy. I tried not to get nervous. I'm Thibs, I'm unshakable. I told myself. Those that know me know that I tell myself this when I'm nervous. Snakebites out, ring off, socks on, breathe. "You feel comfortable being the hooker?" says the President. "As long as I know what it is." They explain I'm to hook the ball with my feet whilst the team clusterfucks with me for a battle royale. (My interpretation hehe) "Okay." We practice the formation a bit. It was showtime. I listened to orders and followed that damn ball wherever it went. Lots of running. Tackling. Even got shouldered to the boob by what appeared to be an Asian/ Filipino mix. It was epic.
We lost that game too, and if I remember correctly by a smaller dent that the previous game. I wasn't too depressed about it at all. I played damn RUGBY! The team was super supportive of each other, giving the 'good game' hand slaps and 'you did a good job' gestures. We had a shit ton of pizza afterwards and cake from one of the guy's anniversaries. His gal was there to bandage the players up. Adorable.
This has been quite the post, one of my longest but if you read all the way through thanks. It's been a while but I'll try to stay on it. This is a shout out to my fellow team members for making this sport what I wanted it to be. Just an odd cluster of people getting together to represent something though that something might be different for everyone.
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