If it seems as though I’m talking quite a bit about rugby, your observation is entirely correct. If you follow my blog to any extent, you’re arguably already well aware of this. But, for anyone who might be new here, allow me to explain that I love and play the game of rugby, and I don’t plan to stop chatting about it anytime soon because it is so special.
I’ve played a handful of sports throughout my life, individual and team, and no other sport comes close to the incredible sportsmanship that exists within rugby. We had a game this past weekend, and while instances like the one I am about to tell you happen in most games, this one is fresh in my mind.
I had made a tackle from what I can remember, and upon getting up, I realized I was directly in the vicinity of a ruck forming. If you don’t know rugby terms, don’t stress; a ruck involves one or both teams playing, creating a sort of barricade around the person who was just tackled and the ball in their hands. The idea of a ruck is to protect the ball and prevent it from being turned over or becoming the opposing team’s possession. You sort of engage your upper body with the players on the other team over top of your player on the ground and the ball and wrestle a bit, wait for the scrum half to get there and pass the ball out, and then disengage.
When I realized I was needed in this particular ruck, I ended up engaging with the opposing play across from me, and we both lost our balance and fell. She fell forward into me and knocked me over, and as she was scrambling to get up, she stepped directly on my hand with her cleat. It didn’t hurt (adrenaline is a powerful drug), and before she was even back on her feet, she stopped, realized what she did, apologized and immediately asked me if I was okay.
I don’t know of another sport in which players literally beat the living hell out of each other for 80 minutes and still have the grace and sportsmanship to apologize for unintentional injuries. It’s pretty damn amazing.
ontheedgeofeverything 