Many moons ago now, I was playing, in my opinion, the greatest game known to mankind – rugby. I started playing when I was in grade nine; I desperately wanted to try out for the team, despite having never played before, and while my mom was absolutely against the idea, I spoke to my Dad about it, and he told me to proceed anyways, in defiance of my mom’s concern.
To provide you with a bit of context, my dad played varsity football. He played for his high school and went on to play for The University of Guelph.
Had my dad not encouraged me to forego my mothers rule, I quite literally would have missed out on the best experience, and some of the best years, of my entire life.
I cannot adequately put into words what I felt when I played this game. Passion, adrenaline, love and joy are just a few adjectives to describe how rugby made me feel, and I am so grateful to my dad for encouraging me to take a risk and try something outside of my comfort zone.
For the majority of my first season, I wasn’t entirely sure how to even play the game; rugby can get complicated, so I think it would be safe to say I’m still not entirely sure of all of the rules now. Towards the end of my first year I found my feet, if you will, and by the next year, this game had ignited a fire within me that yearned to be burned, and I had no desire to extinguish it.
When I stopped playing, for different reasons, I didn’t entirely realize how unhappy I was with the absence of rugby in my life. It took me quite a while to determine what the void I was feeling was, and I think it is incredible to acknowledge what sports can do for people.
Photo by Olga Guryanova on Unsplash
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