Rugburn

When parents move or downsize there comes a lot of evidence from the past. Tubs filled with memorabilia from ones childhood, decades of records of family and personal transitions, newspaper articles of note, and copies of letters sent (and stored) during various stages of life. Some of those letters are worth keeping or storing to stimulate memories that may have dimmed, some not so pleasant, but most that can bring a smile or make the scotch taste even better as you settle down to re-read them. My mother printed and saved many of the emails I wrote to them while we lived a few thousand miles away in Switzerland. We always tried to share some of our experiences with family in the form of these notes when we lived overseas. This note needs no real introduction or explanation, other than it brought back fond memories of a son that seems to have used the platform of those experiences overseas to fuel his current success, I'm sure.

A Human Demolition Derby (Do They Offer Collision Insurance for Humans)

Kent came home around eleven o'clock last night -- quite early for a weekend evening. He went straight to bed and turned out the light. The first sign that the next day must be a special one. Weather wise, it certainly wasn't.

It has rained this entire week, and today was no exception. He was scheduled to meet his team at a Swiss athletic complex quite near our home at 9:30 for a 10:00 a.m. game. When I woke him at 8:00 a.m., it was pouring. When we "finally" left at 9:15 (I say 'finally' because Kent was tapping his toes by the door, in full Rugby regalia by 9:00, even though I told him the fields were only about 5 minutes away), it was still pouring. At 9:30, after we finally learned where to park, walked to the complex of five or six soccer/rugby/baseball fields, and met the team, sans coach. The rain had stopped completely. Unfortunately, there was no way the Swiss were going to allow our team to tear up their manicured but very wet grass fields, so the coach came about 15 minutes later with the van to transport the team back to fields near the school. Because the opposing team, an American International School from Lugano, Switzerland, had traveled quite far and was very disappointed at the prospect of a cancellation, they had made arrangements to use the practice field near school in Ruschlikon with a game start of 11:30.

I need to explain this "field". This was my first visit to this much smaller athletic not-so-complex complex, and Kent had gone ahead of me after I dropped him at the entrance to park (yes, parking is always a time segment in any story about an experience in Switzerland... or Europe, for that matter). As I strolled down the tree lined path, I saw a beautiful grass soccer field, complete with stands for fans and an announcers box. Quite nice I thought, but surely they won't let them play on that. Quite right. The field further down, over the hill and next to the indoor gym facility, is much less engaging. It's really just a very level gravel pit. Nary a blade of grass in sight. To reduce the impact of pounding feet on dirt, the local community who built the fields chose a fine, red gravel with which to surface the “field". I assumed this was also to allow rapid draining of water, which would be useful since, on this day, the sidelines held about three inches of standing water. I also hoped the rain would continue to hold off.

At 11:25 the two teams lined up across the field from each other as the skies opened up to relieve themselves on parents and players. That would make filming this inaugural game more interesting, holding the camera in one hand and the umbrella in the other. After a brief kickoff which was much like American football, both teams formed into a scene that would repeat itself  very often throughout the game. A "scrum" is where about eight members of each team huddle together and lock into each other like a multi-headed, multi-assed couple of battering rams. But instead of ramming into each other, both teams kind of do the opposite of a tug of war. Instead of tugging, the push. Kent plays the position of what they call the "Eight" man. As you might guess, this player is at the very back of their teams scrum, and acts as sort of a backstop. In actuality, the eight man is where a lot of the

force on the scrum is applied. He does a lot of the pushing, but also acts as a doorstop, to prevent the team from being pushed backwards. Kent seems to do his job well. Parents on the sidelines were remarking on how the team wasn't getting pushed around like last year. "Say, their even pushing back... look at them move," I heard one parent exclaim. Now, since I was filming, my perspective was about 1" x 1" square, and perhaps not that acute. However, it did seem to me that Kent was not moving, and every time he would take a step forward, the team would move a step forward. When he didn't take a step, the team would not move forward. There seemed to be a high degree of correlation between his effort and the teams progress. Those tree-trunk thighs and calves of his seemed to be put to good use.

When finally the ball is moved out of the middle of the scrum, and the game moves into a passing sequence, the players in the scrum get up from their bent-over position (if they're still able) and block for the backs (or rushers, or runners, or whatever they call them). Those folks, during the scrum, have been formed along a line from the scrum to the sidelines, waiting for just such a move. That's when the real slamming and banging starts. opponents gang up on the whomever has the ball and try to pull him to the ground and stop the motion of the ball, or try to rip the ball out of the carriers hands. If Kent's around, however, some of them seem to try to take cover. For Kent, I think this is the part of the game he loves best. For him, whether pushing his teammate with the ball through the ganged opposition, or trying to tackle the opponent with the ball, it's a free for all. Anyone could fall victim. If someone is in the path, they usually  seemed  to get cleared out like weeds under a sickle. If his own teammate had the ball, he'd sometimes  get the benefit of a a shove in the back that drilled him through  the opponents (though I'm not sure that felt any better than getting tackled). On at least one occasion, I watched a fairly large back from the opposing team get hoisted off the ground with legs fanning in the air and held there. It was almost as though Kent was waiting for the whistle to call a penalty or to call the ball dead. When no whistle came, he slammed the poor fellow into a mud puddle, attracting the attention of both teams who piled on both of them.

It's not to suggest that Kent doesn't fall hard once in a while himself. On the few times he'd end up carrying the ball (his position does not call for him to do so, very often), he'd just keep going until there were enough people hanging off of him to stop him. But once they would stop him (which would take a good four or five players), every one would gang up and on a

couple of occasions I could hear the thump as he hit the ground. The whistle would blow the ball dead, and kids would pile off with Kent, at the bottom, among the last to bounce up. I say among the last because once in a while there would be one player unfortunate enough to get himself caught under Kent as he fell. On at least one occasion, they walked that fellow slowly off the field, with the poor kind mumbling something about, "damn heavy".

Kent was one of only two or three to play the whole game. He was never substituted, and never sat back. I'm not sure where he got the energy. He

told me after the game that he was pretty much exhausted the entire game, but that the adrenaline helped keep him going. That and the scrums. He claims that he would rest in some of those scrums.

"I just look down on the ground and listen to the grunting and hollering, and lock my legs and hold for a moment or two. Then I'll push a little, then lock.. the legs again. At least I don't have to run, and I can catch my breath."

This is my former couch potato talking. The big teddy-bear with a smile and a hug. On the field, he's quite different. And he loves it. And he does pretty weU...an important part of the team.

The condition of the bathtub following Kent's soaking after the game told the story. There wasn't simply a ring around that tub. It was aggregate coating is what it was. I'll bet we cleaned a pound of gravel out of that tub. He remarked after the bath that there were a lot more scrapes and bruises than he had noticed on the field. After the gravel washed out of his skin, and the blood was washed away, his legs looked like he'd take a hoof file after them. And yet, there he sat, big grin on his face, ready to go out and celebrate the victory with his teammates.

Yes, they won. By what score, I have no idea. I have no idea how or when they scored. I have a lot to learn about the game yet. But I do know I'll attend every one I can.