Rugby may be foreign in the States, but it doesn’t have to be
Nevada Sagebrush Sports Editor Emerson Marcus dives for a ball Saturday in Nevada's rugby match against San Jose State. Photo by Devin Sizemore/Nevada Sagebrush.
Instinctual fears of breaking my jaw, nose, shoulder or losing a tooth couldn’t scare me while I attempted to tackle a ball carrier built like a Mack truck.
I chose my situation.
I couldn’t back down.
I was playing rugby — the sport that combines the running of soccer, the contact of football and the fear of jumping off a cliff.
Last week, I asked Nevada rugby president Kyle Herzberg if I could play in Saturday’s game against San Jose State. He said, “Sure.”
With that acceptance, I had thrown myself into the fire.
I attended practice Thursday, threw up during drills, but kept pushing. Rugby isn’t entirely about hitting. In fact, the cardiovascular aspect of the game is more important than the aggressive-hitting stereotype the sport has received in its history.
During the drills, I became so dizzy that I walked to the fence at Wolf Pack Park and clung to the railings as my jaw dropped and I gasped for air.
“It’s not American football without the pads,” USA Rugby President Nigel Melville said. “It’s not like most American sports because rugby has a continuous flow.”
The Nevada rugby team runs drills similar to those seen at a Wolf Pack football practice.
Distance running combined with sprints and the ability to hit someone while in a state of exhaustion is vital in the international game, which Americans may think better fitted for Australians or Europeans.
I was intrigued by the sport’s soccer-football hybrid appeal along with its history.
American rugby began in the 19th century during the Muscular Christianity movement, which sought to establish more activity among young men in the Victorian Era.
The sport’s popularity led to American rugby gold medal wins in the 1924 and 1928 Olympics.
The international Olympic Committee dropped the sport before the 1928 Olympics because it was deemed too dangerous.
Its danger didn’t keep me from playing, but it still weighed heavy on my mind.
On Friday, Halloween, I stayed home while every one of my roommates went out to wear costumes and party. I decided to rest for Saturday’s game.
I was apprehensive.
How could I not be?
I was playing an unfamiliar sport that included men stronger, faster and more aggressive than myself. Fear played a factor before the game, but all that fear disappeared when I stepped on the field.
I entered the B-side game — the equivalent to junior varsity — in the second half. The B-side is the developmental team, but it still plays healthy competition.
I played left wing, which is a defensive back position. My goal was to keep the opposing offense from advancing down the field near the left-touch line (out-of-bounds line for American football fans). San Jose State would lateral the ball out to my left, opening gaps for 250-plus pound backs hurling down the field in my direction.
It reminded me of Major League II when White Sox player Mr. Parkman would say, “Get off the tracks when the trains coming in.”
I was determined to stay on the tracks, though, and do whatever I could to stop the train.
When the train came, I wrapped my arms and pulled back. The tree-trunk legs seemed as big as my waist, but I held on long enough for my first tackle.
Toward the end of the game, one of the opposing backs plowed me over and kept running. I twirled like a helicopter propeller and landed looking in the opposite direction.
I then popped up and ran down field, where the ball was stripped from the carrier. The ball bounced out and I jumped for it and pushed up field — maybe two or three yards. I was halted after two opposing players completed a tackle and then piled on top of me.
The players ran over the pile to make it difficult for me to lateral backward to one of my teammates. I successfully released the ball behind and covered my head as the ruck formed above me.
The feeling of being at the bottom of a ruck is similar to being tossed by a powerful wave — with cleets.
Players come flying from all directions on a sports field so big only golf could rival.
The field, which is 144 meters long and 77 meters wide, makes for a wider space.
It keeps its players alert at all time because at any moment you can get popped. Rugby forces you to run, stay alert and never stop playing.
Emerson Marcus can be reached at emarcus@nevadasagebrush.com.
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