I’ve mentioned a couple of times here on my blog that I’ve started playing rugby again after a 10-year break. Such an extended hiatus was never the intention, but thanks to Lyme disease and other factors, my return was pushed a little later than I anticipated.
I fell in love with this game back when I first started playing in the ninth grade. Granted, the first year playing wasn’t entirely wonderful in the sense I felt like I had no idea what the hell I was doing, and furthermore, I didn’t have a firm grasp on the game itself. I gained some confidence when I played again in grade ten, and the rest was history.
One reason I love rugby so much is because it is such a versatile sport. You’ve got 15 players on the field at a time, and each and every one of these players can, quite possibly, possess different skill sets, levels of athleticism and fitness, body types and age. There is literally a position for everyone, and the game itself is an incredibly welcoming one because of the phenomenal community involved with it.
The comradery that develops between you and your teammates playing this game is unmatched, in my opinion. I think part of the reason you become so close with your team is that rugby is so rough and brutal; you, in a sense, go to war with these women, and you’ve got their backs just as much as they have yours. I like to think of the pitch as a battlefield, and you’ve got your soldiers right there alongside you as you head into battle.
The game of rugby truly changed my life once I became involved with it, and I am so damn grateful I did. I imagine it will always be a part of my life, in some form or another, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
ontheedgeofeverything 