Sympathy for Namibia

Now I know how Namibia feels after they lost their match to South Africa Springboks 87-0. The Rockford Ravens similarly gave us a clinic in the sport of rugby. I lost count of their tries at around nine. They proved to be big, strong, and had an eye for making sound passes and timely cutbacks, which shredded our defensive line. I took two to three Gladiators to bring one of their runners to the ground. This left them with an advantage in every ruck and gave them the ability to overload our backs on the wings where they seemed to score at will.




We played hard and with guts, but guts are not enough at this level. I had the disappointment of re-injuring my arm at about the 30-minute mark of the game. It is frustrating because I was having a decent game. I only had one penalty (an all-time low for me) and was collecting a respectable number of tackles. In fact, it was on a tackle that I got hurt. I continued to play but later compounded the aggravation to my shoulder toward the end of the first half while making a futile dive to stop a breakaway Rockford back from scoring another try.



During the second half of the game I anxiously watched my teammates continue to heroically weather the punishment as best they could. As I paced on the sidelines, I ached to get in and help but a knifing pain in my back and shoulder cautioned me otherwise. I don’t know if my decision making process would have been different had I been an impact player. Although I was consistently making tackles and engaging in rucks my individual efforts did not seem to reap any game changing results. I guess I felt that if I kept playing I would be risking the rest of the season for a lost cause and still not help the team like a fresh pair of legs and a stout pair of shoulders would.



I have spent the weekend second-guessing myself even though my right shoulder continues to hurt when kept at certain angles (I dare not tell my wife how it feels as she will happily remind me that “she told me so”). I am a bit low feeling that I am not providing the lift my team needs and that I am not producing like I thought I would this season.

Forgive the whining, this article is not intended to be a “whoa is me” cry-fest. In fact, it gives me pause to appreciate players from places like Namibia, Romania, and even the U.S. These teams have been trounced by the world’s best during this World Cup tournament and continue to return to the pitch each match with the hope that they will “Shock the World”. This weekend I have wondered what is going through the minds of their coaches, captains, and players? Are they reflecting in all the things they did not do or are they enjoying the fact that they are given the opportunity to compete at this level and on this stage?



I like to think that they are similar to me, who, after swallowing the bitter pill of losing reflects on how he can do better and then looks forward to giving it another go. I feel that at my age I am only allotted a finite number of games; and like a punch card, each game gets me closer to the final punch. When that punch is I do not know but it is certainly closer than I want it to be. I know that the shoulder pain will eventually go away as will the memory of last Saturday’s beating. I hope the helpless feeling I felt on the sideline will disappear next practice as well. I just need to figure out how I can contribute more so that my team can finally quench our thirst with a sweet refreshing taste of victory.

Game Tomorrow

We have a game tomorrow. I am still sore and still from the last match. I fear that my age is finally catching up with me. I counter that dread with the accusation that I am not physically prepared for season like I promised myself I would be. I also take comfort in the fact that the team we played last week was good.



I hate that I am entertaining the idea that I am feeling aged and that my maladies are due to the progression of time. I am not ready to concede my youth to middle age. I think I know how Brett Favre felt during each of those comebacks. The desire to play the sport always seems to override the nagging pain and stiffness as well as common sense. I guess I can take some motivation in the fact that year after year he played the game with heart and made an impact on his team, which is all I really seek to do.

He, however, had over a decade of experience to impart on his fellow players. I still feel like a new guy. I find I am still learning something each game. Unlike a wily old veteran who survives by anticipating events because of his catalogue of experience, I still survive by generating motion; something that seems harder this week. I guess to the rookies I am a sage veteran, but the truth is I feel inadequate to the task of leadership because I am only a 4 or 5 games ahead of the rookies. But as one of my favorite quotes says "Leadership is action, not position". As long as I can still generate action I can make an impact.



This week's practice saw 26 players man the pitch. I think I speak for all of the guys who played during the Spring season, it was truly motivating to see. I can remember showing up to the Lindenhurst Gym with snow on the ground to run drills with 5 and 6 guys. In fact just 4 weeks ago it didn't look as though we were going to have enough interest to field a team. I hope the new guys get filled with a passion for the sport like I did my first year. It is why, despite the pain, I will lace up my boots and pull on my Gladiator green jersey for another 80 minutes on the pitch.

Fall Season Opener V Woodsmen

It has been awhile since I have written on this page. I should probably talk about the Rugby World Cup and write a discourse on the victory/loss the U.S. Eagles had versus the Irish or the underdog victory by the Irish over the Australian Wallabies (favored by many to win the Earl Ellis Cup), or the hard-fought victory by the U.S. over Russia. However, Saturday was the start of my third season with the Lake County Gladiators. I should have been adding to this Blog while getting ready for the season. Unfortunately, I have spent more time doing everything but Rugby. Quite honestly, it showed after the first 25 minutes on the pitch.




Playing our cross-town rivals the Schaumburg Woodsmen, we had a lot of new blood on the field; including two new guys from my work, which I worked hard to recruit (We had a total of 5 from my unit, including myself). They, on the other hand, are a proven and experienced team. They also have a number of former Gladiators on their starting squad. This made for aggressive play and hard hitting. For the first 25 minutes of the game we gave them a fight. Although the dominated the possession time our defense held time and time again. We may have bent but we never broke. I had a few bonehead plays like reaching in and playing the ball from the ground but neither had adverse effect on the score.


On the other hand I had a great hit on a guy who was easily 30 lbs heavier than I. He was a large ginger haired dude with a red beard. He looked like his profession could have actually been a “woodsmen”. He thought he could bowl me over with size but I went as low as my 42-year-old body could go and aimed my face cheek to his ass cheek. 185 lbs with momentum impacting below someone’s center of gravity will always have the desired effect. He lifted off the ground and went heels-over-head landing with a thud. I felt like I had made the highlight film of the World Cup. However, moments later, as I was rolling out of the way I caught a knee or a head in my upper back from the forming ruck.


Several minutes after my hit we made our first and only drive into their territory in the first half. Unfortunately they gained the ball back and used their speed and the breakdown of our transition to defense to score their first try with a succession of good passes and inspired runs. This first score opened the flood games to the Woodsmen scoring machine they scored three successive tries before I pulled myself. I was winded and not able to make it to the rucks or back on defense after they broke our gain-line. I also wanted one of my co-workers to get in his first game (His wife and friends came to see him play- I figured the more he played- the more he would love the game and I would have a convert for life).




I wish I could report that the fresh legs and injection of enthusiasm turned the tied but the Woodsmen scored again before the end of the first half. I sat the second half as the Woodsmen scored another two tries. However, it was mid-way through the second half when our offense started to click. After a penalty lineout, the Gladiator front pushed inside our 5 meter-line. Vinny, at the Scrumhalf, took the ball around the ruck an in for our first score. About 15-20 minutes later we scored again on a textbook play. We won a ruck and immediately passed the ball out to the backs. Josh Sanchez (one of my recruits from work) received the ball and proceeded to sprint to the try-line. Only one defender stood between him and 5 points. The defender tried to tackle Josh high (bad idea since Josh had at least 15 lbs on him). Mr. Sanchez lowered his shoulder and sent the defender flying backwards as he strutted across the line for our second and final score.


The play made was a sign that we can compete with the best in our league. As our new players gain experience and the team jells we may just win a few. The older players were happy, for once, and acted as if we had won despite the lopsided score. I was pleased that two of my recruits played all 80 minutes, got a try, and played a heck of a game. My other two recruits played at least 40 minutes, not counting Luis Gonzalez’s time in the sin bin for diving over the pile (which resulted in the final Woodsmen score).

The play of the team in our first contest, against a proven playoff quality Division II team is a lot to be proud about. Especially, since 3 weeks prior we only had 6 guys at practice. Looking towards the future there is much to be hopeful about. I just hope my swollen and sore body stops aching by Thursday’s practice, or at least by Saturday’s game versus the Rockford Ravens.