Austin Adventures

Have you ever gotten really, really excited about something, and then for a brief moment were absolutely sure that some unexpected catastrophe was going to prevent it from happening, but then the catastrophe was averted and the awesome thing ended up being just as exciting as you expected and totally worth it?

Because that was my trip to Austin.

The unexpected catastrophe was my plane leaving late - very late - out of DC, and me (and six other hapless passengers) missing the connection to Austin, and US Airways telling me I was stranded in Charlotte, NC overnight and that they couldn’t get me to Austin until 4pm on Saturday afternoon, which would have made me COMPLETELY miss any rugby!

The “catastrophe averted” part occurred when US Airways reluctantly agreed that yes, maybe they could get me to some other part of Texas, like Houston, and my Fury ground troops in Austin (Rebecca, Jess, and Dilley) contacted the Houston team’s captain, Brandy, aka My Hero, who volunteered to pick me up at the Houston airport at midnight, let me sleep on her couch, and make sure I made it to the Austin Valkyrie’s pitch with the rest of the Houston team in time to play some rugby. Huge, HUGE thanks to everyone for making sure I eventually made it to Austin!!

The awesome part, of course, was everything else.

DC only managed to bring ten Furies down to Austin, but we were well supplemented with subs from local college teams and the Houston women. After watching the match between Houston and Austin B, the ten of us and our Furies-for-a-day warmed up and got ready to take the pitch.

I’ll admit, between our low numbers, hodgepodge of subs, and the Austin heat (85 and humid, as compared to 40 and raining at our last DC practice), I was a little worried we wouldn’t be able to deliver a challenging match to Austin. However, I’m happy to report that we definitely proved to be decent competition. Austin had us on our own try line several times, but we didn’t give up and pushed them back every time, leaving them to score their three tries on breakaways. DC answered with a penalty kick in the first half by Brenna and a try in the second, scored by Houston’s Brandy (not just Pink’s hero anymore!) and converted by Brenna. The final score was I believe, a highly symbolic 15-10 in Austin’s favor. I've been corrected - seems like the final score was 22-10. Ah, well, so much for symbolism!

After this match, the Houston and DC coaches decided that the second game would be replaced with a Houston/DC boat race. I am embarrassed to admit that DC was the hands-down loser in this matchup, but in the end, with beer and burgers and vegetables and cookies and other social-y goodness, everyone won.

The social also brought my first experience with a rugby kangaroo court, as the Valkyries placed offenders under “oaf” and brought charges of many heinous crimes against their players – and the ten of us! The Furies were charged and convicted of the truly heinous crime of bringing only ten players to a game of fifteens rugby; for our punishment, we performed an inspiring interpretive dance to the US National Anthem. However, in recognition of the fact that the real offenders were the other 45 rostered Furies who stayed home, we were also given the responsibility of enforcing – and recording! – the same punishment for the rest of our team.

Eventually, however, the social wound to a close, and we all headed back to our respective hosts’ homes to shower. For dinner, some of us then headed to a native Austin establishment called Freebird for burritos. Freebirds are kind of like Chipotles, except exponentially awesomer – the decorations were flying electric guitars, Lady Liberty on a motorcycle, and tin foil art.

For Round 2, we started with a gay cowboy bar called the Rusty Spur. This was definitely the highlight of my trip, especially when Pattie (my Valkyrie host) taught me how to two-step – the most Texas moment of my first trip to the Lone Star State! Later, Dilley and I attempted our own version of the two-step, which made up for in enthusiasm what it lacked in skill. I also met Heidi, who’d once played in Japan with some of my teammates from when I was in Kyoto – I love how interconnected the rugby world is!

Around 1:30am, some of us finally headed home, taking a pedi-cab back to the car. I got less than 4 hours of sleep before I had to wake up to get to the airport by 6 am, but luckily this time all my flights left on time and I made my connection.

Definitely a great Saturday, and worth all the trouble! Shout-outs to Brandy and the Houston team, for rescuing me and for helping us out with subs; and to Austin, for giving us a great game and being amazing hosts. It was my first time visiting Texas, and thanks to you all, I’m already looking forward to my next visit!

ETA: links to Wendy's video and Shalay's photos in the comments!

Cape Fear

Rugby, the beach, fireworks, hot athletic women, meeting new people in hilarious and alcohol-tinged escapades... if Julie Andrews and I were hanging around in lacy nightgowns talking about my favorite things, the list might go a little something like this.

But as much as I love Julie Andrews, that's not what I'm thinking about to distract me from a big scary thunderstorm. That list's more like my schedule of events from this past July 4th weekend.

A seven-hour drive, thirteen ruggers in a six-person hotel room three blocks from a beach in North Carolina, the "oldest and largest sevens rugby tournament in the United States," and a stream of alcoholic beverages as steady as the crashing of the waves on the sand. That, in a nutshell, is Cape Fear Sevens.

The weekend started off at the ungodly hour of 5am on July 4th. But though I might have been reluctant to leave my warm, cozy (and, might I add, double-occupancy) bed at an hour when even the birds were barely beginning to consider that perhaps it might begin to be morning soon, I had to admit that the timing was right when we arrived at Wrightsville Beach by noon with plenty of time to pull on bikinis, slather on some sunscreen, grab a cooler full of beer and enjoy the sand and the sun like the proper American citizens we are.

I must take a second here to mention how much I love the beach. It's not often I get an opportunity to visit one, but when I do I can't help but gush over the beauty of a carpet of shells ground to a fine powder by the hypnotically mesmerizing repetition of beating buckets of salt water. And you'd better believe that we hit that beach every single day that we were down there, and that every time we were there I made it out into the ocean to play chicken with the cresting waves.

But one cannot live on beach alone (much as I'd like to try!), and after all, it was July the Fourth, the Day of Our Nation's Independence Celebration - and being as I haven't been in the country for the holiday for the past two summers, I couldn't wait for that seminal expression of what countless generations of patriotic American citizens have fought, bled, and died for: the freedom to ignite large, loud, colorful explosives in front of crowds of hot, sweaty people.



And oh, but friends, those fireworks were worth the wait. Though only Nuge and I were interested enough in our country's freedom to fight through the crowds to find a small square of sidewalk from which we could watch the show, instead of staying home and drinking by the hotel pool, we definitely felt that it was everyone else missing out on all the fun. It's been so long since I've gone to see a firework show, I forgot how fantastic they were - the explosions! the colors! the rockets that screech on the way up and the ones that sizzle on the way down! rainbow fireworks, red-white-and-blue fireworks, silver and gold and purple and green fireworks!

You can, I hope, forgive my mature, adult, twenty-two-year-old self for literally jumping up and down and clapping and laughing with glee.

The long traffic-jam home, followed by a joyful reunion of friends, beer, and splashy fun in the hotel pool rounded out my happy celebration of our Independence Day.

***

Saturday dawned on phone alarms and joking and the organizational acrobatics of thirteen girls with one bathroom. Eventually, however, everyone had successfully collected themselves and their kits and we headed off to the Cape Fear pitch, where the tournament coordinator (happily lurching about under a fisherman's hat and a boozey aura) directed us towards our first match. We kitted up, donned our warm-ups, and headed over.

Now, a quick word about our team uniforms: our usual jerseys are heavy, tough affairs, several sizes too large for just about anybody and as breathable as your average raincoat. Not ideal for a game which is essentially two seven-minute halves of sprinting in the Carolina heat. So on the way to the beach, a car full of teammates was dispatched to Target to pick up some nice, light, sleeveless tops - which they did, choosing a not-quite-eye-scarring shade of greenish-turquoise.

On the way to the register, however, they chanced to pass by the sale rack in the Outrageous department, and impulsively decided that we required warm-up jackets as well.

Short-sleeved, midriff-baring, zebra-lined, gold-accented, big-hooded warm-up jackets.

Which we all wore with the necessary accessories of sunglasses and acapella renditions of J Lo.

Representing the "Stingers From the Block" in the Women's Social division, we played "Whores R Us" (Savannah/Charleston) and won, then lost to the Raleigh Venom and the Hustlers. The team took a bit to gel - a lot of players who don't normally do sevens show up just for this tournament, so we hadn't exactly played together before - but we had some pretty nice plays, including a try by yours truly who managed to get the ball down in the try zone despite a rather speedy Hustler having caught up enough to get one hand in my waistband and the other on my collar.

Between our games, we guzzled water and Gatorade and wandered over to watch some of the excellent matches in the Women's Premier division. DC area represented with NOVA and the Furies, who were in turn matched against the Northeast territorial team, two USA developmental sides, and the Atlanta women. It is always a treat to be able to observe a field full of fit, talented, experienced athletes match their skills and speed against each other, and the games this weekend were no exception.

But let's be honest - Cape Fear is only somewhat about the rugby. The rest is about the socializing and the drinking. So we prepared for an evening of just that, lazing about on the beach, taking naps and showers and generally refueling. Our relaxed evening was only breifly interrupted by two of our teammates getting caught in the elevator and having to call 911 for a firetruck to come get them out.

It's perhaps one of my favorite scenes from the weekend: two of us hidden in the elevator, one (soberly and anxiously) standing on the street corner watching for the fire truck, the rest of us standing on the balcony, beers in hand, excitedly pointing out the flashing lights we'd just sighted a few blocks away.

After that, it was a typical long night of story-telling and making new friends to the tune of $2 beers, and the clock was reading well past midnight by the time we made it back to the room to crash three-to-a-bed to sleep. But come morning, we were up and at 'em again - after all, there were bagels to eat, teammates who came home at 7:30 am to tease, and most of all, rugby to be played.

Not that we seemed prepared for an intense day of athletic endeavor. The sunglasses were on, the zebra-striped hoods were up, and to call our warm-up half-hearted would be generous. By some coincidence of bracketing, we were playing Whores R Us for the second time, and they seemed determined to make up their loss of the day before: while we stood in a circle and lazily tossed around a ball, they ran opposed plays off of scrums and lineouts.

I've got to admit that in the first moments before stepping onto the pitch, I did not feel optimistic about our chances. But when the whistle blew, it was like a switch had been flipped, and we abruptly forgot that we were supposed to be tired and hungover and started doing what we do best: playing rugby. All our playing time together the day before finally paid off, and we started playing together like a team instead of seven individuals. We not only beat the Whores for a second time, but also kept them from scoring a single try of their own.

Walking back to our tent, warm-ups on and a teammate holding up speakers blaring "Move, Bitch, Get Out the Way," I did feel like a giant asshole, yes; but a try-scorin', ass-kickin', rugby playin' asshole.

Our momentum held up for the first half of our second game against Raleigh (which I did not play, since I was also feeling like a slightly concussed asshole who forgets that she ought not pull people down on top of her head in the tackle and whose vision has gone all spackled on one side), but by the second half it became obvious which was the better team. Raleigh's speedy wingers took advantage of our untidy, bunchy defensive line to run around the outside and score a bunch of tries.

After their win, Raleigh ended up in the final against the Hustlers (I swear there were six teams in our division, but we didn't ever see the other two). It was an exciting, close-fought match that displayed the skills of both teams, but the Hustlers clearly had a tighter, faster game, and swept in an excellent win before a crowd of cheering spectators.

Having finished with the rugby portion of our weekend, we said goodbye to those of us who had not been fortunate enough to get off work on Monday, tracked down some food and then went off to the beach again before we headed out to the NOVA house for more genial socializing.

The NOVA women, it turns out, had not been lazing about. They had gotten right into the business of partying, partially in celebration of someone's birthday but mostly just because that's what you do when you have a rugby house on the beach. We had dance parties and sing-a-longs and (as per the birthday girl's request) a drinking game to the Beep "http://coachingrugby.blogspot.com/2007/02/you-love-to-hate-it-beep-test.html">Test, which was simultaneously the most terrifying and most fantastic method of imbibing alochol that I have ever been fortunate enough to participate in.

Then, of course, it was out to the bar again. It's hard to pin down the best story of the evening - was it the over-enthusiastic 'cheers' that ended up with a smashed Corona bottle? The two girls who had hooked up the night before and studiously avoided each other all day collapsing on each other and then disappearing into the night for two hours? Our declaration that we would find a man for our single straight teammate, followed by her taking out a cute man with a British accent to the beach until 4 am? Or perhaps the local lesbian who showed up and practically went into shock to see the numbers of hot lesbians who had inexplicably shown up at her favorite beach bar, who of course twenty minutes later was my best friend? Or how she became the second hot girl of the evening to show up with (and make out with) someone else, but spend a good chunk of time flirting with me before insisting that we exchange phone numbers so we could maybe hang out again later?

And those are only the best stories.

Eventually, though, all good times must come to an end. Last call inevitably comes, beers must be finished, tabs closed, and beds (eventually) returned to.

Morning on Monday was a sluggish affair, as you may well imagine. But we managed to roll out of bed, rescue any remaining food in the room (all the alcohol was unsurprisingly already gone), and checkout of the hotel in time for a last few hours at the beach.

And then it was home again - home by way of Wawa and outlet shops, home slowly but surely. And by ten at night, I had returned, exhausted and salty with sand in places that sand really shouldn't be, but infinitely content.

Rugby 10s tournament in a typhoon!

Well, perhaps it wasn't quite a tournament: two men's teams played a game, and then we played, and that was it.

And though a typhoon was certainly making its way up the island of Japan, it didn't feel much like one on the DoCoMo* sponsored field in Osaka - there was a pleasant light rain, but no torrential downpour or bone-chilling winds.

Despite that lack of excitement, last Saturday's 10s game was still totally fantastic.

I'd never played tens before; the main differences are the lack of players (scrums are the tight five with no back row, and the back line is comprised of only one center and no fullback), and the time difference (three 10-minute thirds, instead of two 40-minute halves). Additionally, our Kyoto team was playing with several girls from another team - I played wing with an unfamiliar scrumhalf, flyhalf (called "standoff" here), and center.

Since we had no fullback, I spent any time on the weak side running back around to stand in at full back position. Because there were so many fewer people, it was MUCH easier for me to get into trouble as a wing than in 15s - I had several nice tackles, including two or three throw-downs where I didn't even lose my feet, and got into quite a few rucks. On the other hand, I missed a number of open-field tackles,** lost a ball much earlier than I had to in a breakaway to the try zone,*** and got a penalty for holding on to the ball on the ground.****

We were playing the Hyogo Ladies, who (as in our previous game) had excellent communication, fast tackles, good ball-handling, and space awareness, so we lost 25-0. But Kyoto (et. al.) still played the best I've seen them - no one hung back from rucks or tackles, we were aggressive to get the ball, and we didn't stand around surprised whenever the other team got the ball.

Afterwards, we had a sort of "social" with a bucket of beer, lots of meat, and some sad salad for me. (Although I also had the spaghetti and pretended the small chunks of beef were either not there or tofu. :( I was hungry.) We also had our team meeting, and I was interrupted out of my usual reverie (our main coach talks very fast and imprecisely, so I don't catch much) by my name. As I looked up confusedly, the other coach translated for me - "You are... MVP?"

Duuuuuuuuudes! Kickass.



*DoCoMo is one of the big phone companies here, like Verizon or Cingular.

**I have this tendency to try and tackle people with my arms. This works well for me for close quarters because I'm pretty mean and decently strong, but when someone's running full speed towards the try zone, my scrawy little forearm doesn't do much to stop them. I know I have to get my shoulder in there, but I'm so in the habit of tackling with my arms that that's all I do.

***What I should have done: run straight on, fixed the defender, juked her at the last minute and eaten up that huge empty space between me and the try zone. What I did: ran in a big predictable curve, allowing the defender plenty of time to fix me and meet me, and didn't even try to juke or stiff-arm her.

****Heat of the moment. Slash stupidity.




After the game, most of us went to an izakaya (food and drinks place) in a train station mall in Osaka (the mall was named "Whity's"... oh, Engrish). Having slept about an hour the night before and played an intense (if short) 30 minutes of rugby, during which of course I hit my head at least once, I was feeling really tired and headachey and like I really wanted to be in a hot shower and then bed, rather than perched on a high chair in a izakaya with entirely too many mirrors.

But I'm still really glad I was there. My teammates were awesome at ordering me food - I missed most of the ordering from being in the bathroom, but when the food started coming I found it didn't matter. There was a ton of vegetarian stuff: tomatoes and tofu, tasty egg things, fried stuff on sticks, french fries, and salad. And in the typical Japanese manner (which I love love LOVE), we kept ordering more and more - someone would ask for the menu, point something out to me and ask if I'd tried it, and then order it. The only one of these I remember was chakome (cha-something, anyways) - "tea" over rice topped with dried seaweed, with tsukimono (pickles, more or less) and big chunk of wasabi on the side. The end result was, of course, me feeling ridiculously full and happy.

During dinner, we talked about a lot of things. The ones I both understood and remember (tired! fooded! beered!) were the game we'd just played (of course), where I was traveling after school, the design and price of polos Eri had decided to make, and the details of my farewell party.

Yes, apparently I get a farewell party. Awesome! And, even more surprising than that (or at least, it surprised me that they were outright discussing it with me right there - cultural differences?) I get presents. From everyone.

Dude. I just... this team keeps getting awesomer and awesomer, y'know? I mean, it'll be cool to get a big pile of Japan souveneirs, but it's more incredible to know that a bunch of people care enough about me, having just seen me once or twice a week at rugby practice, to go pick out things for me to remember them by.

However, I also have to think of things to get for all of them. Keeping in mind that I have no idea how many people I'm getting gifts for. That a few people I want to write personal notes to (Shima, Eri, Nabe, Aki, Yuka) but others I have nothing particular to say to or don't even know their names (like... what the hell is my main coach named?!) That I will feel really awkward trying to figure out when and how it is most appropriate to give gifts to people at my own goodbye party. Not to mention, what about my teammates who don't come?

These are the problems I like to have. :D

Rugger family is international

Today I met up with some members of the Kyoto women's rugby team for what I thought was a morning of cherry blossom viewing, and what ended up being a whole day of chilling and awesomeness. I am very tired, have to get up in the morning to practice, and have to also shower/bath and write a nice long email to girlfriend before I sleep, so y'all get bullets:

- Eri, the girl who met me on the train (an 18-year-old who just graduated high school), is a sweetheart and I love her, but I wish she'd realize that I can do things like buy my own train ticket and put it in the machine.
- Aki is def. my favorite Kyotoruggergirl. This is largely because she's the one person who's had actual conversations with (she slogs through my terrible Japanese to discuss things like what kind of jobs she's done and how I feel about sports).
- Kumiko (34-year-old), who I just met today, is awesome, though I think she thinks of me as just another kid to take care of. Her kids (Mira [girl, 8] and Kaito [boy, 10]) are even awesomer. Mira especially spent the day trying to get me to understand her 8-year-old Japanese and taking pictures of me and marveling at my blue eyes and blond hair.
- When they say don't make eye contact with the monkeys? DON'T MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH THE MONKEYS. They will try to prove their dominance and chase you down and you will get teased about it for the rest of the day.
- Kitsune soba (fox soba, or soba with fried tofu in it) is delicious.
- It is apparently impressive that I not only know how to use chopsticks, but know to use the back end of them to pick food off of communal plates.
- Whichever Japanese soap opera was on the minivan TV while we drove all over whoknowswhere was HILARIOUS.
- Somehow I ended up in some hospital that was possibly halfway to Osaka to say hi to someone (I assume a rugger) with a leg wrapped and immobilized to the thigh. I also found out I apparently have high blood pressure, which has never been the case before.
- Fuku (pufferfish) can be poisonous if not prepared right. So if I drop dead in the next few hours, you can blame me breaking my vegetarianism to eat fuku just to have a story to tell.
- Sitting on tatami mats around low tables while Yuka's parents bring dish after dish of strange Japanese dishes and everyone is talking loudly in a language you barely understand and someone's kid is taking a million pictures of you because you look so damn funny and every so often the whole table tries to ask you a question in Japanese and draws on all their synonyms and body language and you end up with an 8 year old curled in your arms as she writes in your "memo" book while a 20-year-old sports addict corrects her kanji - somehow, it feels similar to bumming around a student rental at 6 pm on a Saturday. I guess rugger family is international, and I am +10 glad I found that out.

Plus? The beer totally tastes the same.

AUWRFC: Ten years going strong

This weekend there was an alumni reunion for the rugby team, which has been together since 1996 (10 years!!!). It was INSANE. I am absolutely exhausted, but it was SO much fun!

It started out Friday night, when we had team dinner in TDR with some alumni and some of the team. Usually, I eat pretty fast and get out of there - but with some of the stories being told, I was laughing so hard it was impossible to eat! I stayed for an hour and a half, then somehow ended up going over to the rugby house to help set up (which was also quite fun).

Saturday I was up at 10 to go to the pitch, where the team watched the Stinger's game before our own 2:00 match of AU ruggers vs. Alumni. We were supposed to play four 15 min quarters, but ended up only playing three (because some of the alumni are old and out of shape, and they were getting injured pretty frequently). I played wing, then fullback, then wing again and had a GREAT time - I got some nice tackles in, including a most excellent back-style running tackle (i.e. their wing had the ball and was running away, and I caught up to her from behind, grabbed her jersey and dragged her down) and one where their 8man made a breakaway and I grabbed onto her long enough to stop her (though I had help getting her all the way down). At some point I also lost a chunk out of my left knee, but it doesn't hurt very badly and I didn't even notice until after the game was over.

The weather was perfect for rugby - it had been raining for hours and hours, so the ground was nice and wet and soft with several huuuuuuuuge puddles and I got quite muddy just from tackling and rucking (I think it was the rucking that got the mud in my ears). I also found that mud puddle makes excellent hair gel - it kept all the wisps out of my face! Then at the end of the game (the alumni won - boo!), a few of us (me included) went mudsliding through the biggest puddle - and then we took a big alumni and current player photo.

After a quick break to run back to campus and shower (where I just dumped all my dirty clothes in plastic bags in a pile on the floor), we all went to the rugby house for a SOCIAL!!!

But after six hours of sleep - back up to go to the rugby house! It was supposed to be a pancake breakfast goodbye for the alumni, but not a single one showed up (all too tired - and hungover), so it ended up being just a fun bonding the team members that came before we cleaned up the house.

When the house was clean, I walked back to campus just in time to watch my wife & co. in King Lear, then grabbed a bit to eat before coming to work. I've still got awhile before I can get my exhausted ass to bed - remember those muddy clothes in plastic bags on my floor? Still there! After work, I REALLY have to go rinse and wash them.

But as exhausted as I am - it's the exhaustion that comes from a weekend of PURE AWESOME.

AUWRFC New Jersey Fall Break Tour 2005

This weekend was KICK ASS. I loved rugby before (obviously, if even a fractured wrist and a cast past the elbow couldn't dissuade me from the game), but I'm obsessed now. I love playing rugby, watching rugby, talking about rugby, and hanging out with people who play rugby.

The weekend started Saturday morning at 7 am, when we met at The Spot in the rain and got our tour T shirts (Front: "AUWRFC FALL BREAK TOUR 2005," back: "AMERICAN UNIVERSITY WOMEN'S RUGBY: MAKIN' JERSEY JUST A LITTLE MORE DIRTY"). Then we dashed for the cars and loaded up - I was with Garthie, VD, and Petrides.

After four or so hour of driving and singing, we arrived at Princeton's pitch. Petrides helped me saran-wrap, duct tape, and plastic bag my cast, and thus waterproofed I helped in any way I could to set up for two games (against Westchester and Princeton) in the driving rain.

It was AMAZING. The games were shortened to two 20 min halves each, rather than two 40 min halves (on account of the weather). The team played excellently, and (quite contrary to my expectations, given the weather and my inability to play) I had a marvelous time running up and down the touch line screaming and watching and analyzing and learning.

After two great games (except for the last 5 min of the Princeton game, but we won't talk about that), everyone stripped off most of their wet clothes, threw them in plastic bags, and we drove the hour and a half to Maddy's house, where we engaged in hot tubbing, showering, laundering, eating, and general hanging out until everyone drifted off to sleep.

Sunday we went to a mystery pitch in South Jersey to play TCOJ. Thankfully it had stopped raining, but the team's performance didn't lift with the weather. For some reason we played three 30 min thirds (instead of the normal two 40 min halves), and in the first two we were just falling apart. Finally, in the third we picked it up and took the game back on our terms and ended in a huge rush (despite several injuries).


But that's basically it for the weekend. I got a few hours of sleep, woke up and helped pick up, then ate breakfast, packed, and headed out. I miss these girls already and can't wait for Wednesday's practice.