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By LANE FILLER
Monday, November 11, 2002 Page: 1B
American football finds its roots in the game of rugby. Rugby finds its
roots in the game of “bonecrusher.” Bonecrusher was invented in the Middle
Ages so that when people complained of intense hunger, a lack of available
education, or occasionally, the plague, listeners would say “Look on the
bright side. At least you aren’t getting your spleen smashed on the
bonecrusher field.” That always cheered everyone up, at least until game day.
I made that up.
Rugby is a tough and violent sport, but it is not, generally, a deadly one.
Saturday afternoon at Kirby Park, the Wilkes-Barre Breakers played their final
game of the season against the Carlyle Old Gaelic.
Rugby is in fact a game much like football, with a few differences. Forward
passes are not allowed, laterals are extremely frequent and a tackle does not
end a play.
When a player is tackled in rugby, he or she (yes, girls play this game
too, at a pretty high level of ferocity) must lay the ball on the ground, at
which point everyone else tries to pick it up. Then the tackles start coming
pretty quickly because about 20 of the 30 players on the field are standing
directly around the ball, pushing each other.
I was learning the game under the tutelage of Richard Owens, who, while
still an active club member, rarely plays these days. When I asked him why he
had stopped, he said, and I swear I’m not making this up, “In 2000 I broke my
nose and my forehead. Plus, I’m 47 years-old.” You broke your forehead? Who
the hell breaks their forehead? Answer, rugby players.
The age thing was not as good an excuse, however, because the oldest
Breakers player is Charlie Burns, 53. At this point, I’m supposed to say, “I
sure hope I’m in that kind of shape when I’m 53.” I don’t. I’m not in that
kind of shape now, and the only way I will be when I’m 53 is if our nation is
taken over by militant aerobicists, well-armed and not afraid to shoot the
slackers.
And yet, these guys had as much fun playing as I have ever seen any sports
participants have. At halftime, the Breakers were getting killed, and team
firebrand Phil Arend released a great speech about intensity, toughness,
effort and “kicking some ass.” I was ready to suit up. Not play in the game,
mind you. Just suit up.
Perhaps the most amazing aspect of rugby is this: After every match, the
home team has to take the away team out for drinks and food. After one hour of
running up and down the 110-by-75-meter field bashing the brains out of each
other, it’s off to the pub for a party. They used to sing songs to each other,
but advanced medical technology has curtailed the kind of injuries that make
sweaty men in shorts serenade their opponents.
The Breakers are fighting a membership decline and actively seek new blood.
They welcome all males, of any age, and all participants get to play. Though
all the current players are in shape, those shapes differ from pear to
upside-down pyramid. Of course, the annoying “I can run 20 miles in full pack
while I read the Bible and knit sweaters”-shaped guys are also around, but
whatever.
Current president Mark Barry, speaking about his hope of gathering more
players, said, “I think participation has been hurt because rugby has the
reputation of a lot of injuries, but that’s not really the case.” Asked what
his worst injuries in 10 years of play were, Brooks replied, “A severe
concussion and nerve damage to the left side of my face.” Well, thank God.
For a moment, I was afraid something bad had happened.
Seriously, rugby is an action-packed game to watch and play. As for the
violence, it almost acts as a recommendation for the sport. These guys are
coming back every week regardless of the pounding they take, so they’re
obviously having a tremendous amount of fun.
For information about how you get smushed, smush others, drink tasty
beverages and share camaraderie, call Brooks at 696-2492.