I Teach Myself Rugby

I made it to Prague! I am happy to say there was hardly a hiccup, and I arrived promptly at 5:50 at the Airbnb down-alley. The woman spoke no English, so I lapsed into broken Spanish. There are two possible subconscious reasons for this. 1) I think there are only two languages in the world - English and everything else. 2) I think that if I try to speak Spanish, I am at least exerting an effort to do something more difficult than speak my native tongue. I prefer to think my subconscious thinks the latter. Regardless, after a lot of grunting and awkward laughing, she deemed me legit and gave me the keys. I hocked a loogie and assumed that meant thank you.

It was Saturday night, and that meant one thing - the Michigan/Michigan State game. I soaked in a little Old Town Prague and made my way to an Irish sports bar, thinking perhaps they would show American football. Believe it or not, the Czechs are not interested in MidWestern collegiate athletics. Alas. There was a rather boisterous crowd watching the World Cup of Rugby - apparently more relevant than the Big Ten matchup - and I decided that would satiate my sports craving. Sidenote: the ending of this game was definitely not as interesting as the ending of the Michigan/MSU game.

I took my spot against a railing, and, as the scent of smoke and BO filled my nostrils, I decided to teach myself the game. Here's what I got:

Holy quads. Seriously. Huge. I used to argue tennis pros had the best bodies as a whole, because the variation with football players' body types was so great. But I don't think these men have an ounce of flab. And they have a bit more girth. I may have to rethink my position, but that is for a later date. Focus.

Alright, they're all in a circle, arms linked. This reminds me of those half globe contraptions that I climbed on the playground as a child. As they sway back and forth, I imagine they are chanting Mulan's "Be a Men," psyching each other for the competition to come. I want to climb on top of them and balance on their heads.

New Zealand has possession. For the most part it seems similar to football. But they can kick the ball whenever they want - or maybe it is only from the backfield. I am sure there is some halo rule, because you would not want those men kicking the ball in each other's faces.

I am also not positive how anyone's drive ends other than a turnover. What makes them kick a field goal? Maybe if the ball goes out of bounds, because it seems the ball is always popping out when a player is down - which reminds me of a pool game I played as a child. You try to sit on a ball in the water, and then say, "Momma had a baby and it's head popped off," as the ball pops out of the water. Weird game. Same idea.

It's all pretty entertaining, and you can see the players faces - a bonus most of the time, except in the case of the toothless guy from the Blacks who looks a little like the hulk. I would definitely draft him for my fantasy team. Business opportunity: fantasy rugby.

I think rugby could make a stronger move to the US. If nothing else, I could watch those quads in high def all day.

Alright, I think I got the gist of it. New Zealand is crushing France - exciting - and there are no middle aged men with whom I can argue which is the strongest DI conference, so it's probably time to go. Cricket's on tomorrow - perhaps I will tackle mastery of that sport next.