On LOCKdown

Tonight was our first home practice in over a week, and it was a doozy.  Lengthy, intensive, and a lot of shit I hadn't done before.  But, we also worked scrums, which are pretty much what everyone thinks of when they hear "rugby."

This was this first time I've been lucky enough to scrum down, and I loved it.  I was in the #4 position, lock, which means I had my head wedged between the asses of two burly men.  More picture time about how scrums are formed:

Locks get no glory in scrums but are the real driving force behind how much we manshame the opposing scrum by putting them on their heels.
While I will say this sounds like the story of my life, I will also say that I will end up with fucked ears from playing lock.  Having two hips grind your ears into the size of your head is not super awesome, and though I think I am genetically resistant to cauliflower ear, this will test it.

Even more pressing is the thought that I will be replaced by a dude who is just simply taller than me.  I'm about 4" shorter than your typical lock (which makes for a comical bind) but the real problem is that locks are tall.  Even a lock with the same driving force as me and longer legs will push out scrum forward father and harder.  It's like playing a sacrificial year, I suppose.

Then we did more lineout work, which as a jumper is awesome.  Being hoisted into the air so you can catch a ball 12-13' up is a really cool experience.  Also got to work as a lifter, helping one of our hookers (#2) ascend into the air so he could issue a high-ground "FUCK YOU!  I'M IN THE AIR HAHAHahahahah" to one of his buddies.

CWU rugby, lemme tell ya.

Of School and Forwards and Lineouts

One week ago I finally moved up to Central Washington University.  It was hard to give that final hug goodbye, but I know it was the right choice.  The next day I had my first Uni rugby practice, and had the slap-in-the-face realization that my chances of starting on either the A squad (Div 1A) or B squad (Div 1AA) are not awesome.  I have the requisite athleticism, but there aren't many guys on the squad that have never played before, and I happen to be one.

What I have going for me is a solid work ethic and a burning drive to succeed in this sport, as I have fallen butterflies-in-the-stomach in love with it.  Also, I think being an absolutely blank slate helps.  I don't have to correct bad habits... because I have no habits.

I have mostly been trying to hook up with our forward pack, which seems to unfortunately be knee-deep in quality flankers.  I say unfortunately from a purely selfish context, as I still yearn to be an openside flanker (#7, or #6 in South Africa) and have a nearly perfect build for it.  If I put together some skills I should get occasional play time, but I would guess it will be in the 19 jersey.  19 is a replacement loose-forward, for the unawares.

Also, practicing with the forwards, it was decided that my ape arms will get put to use by making me a lineout jumper.  After being told how much pride CWU takes in their lineouts and that it is an area in which we manshame other teams, they put me straight to work... with a trustfall.  The first of my life, I might add.  And I just let it happen.  For some reason I have an incredible amount of faith in these boys to take care of their own.  Then we got to work with jumping/lifting.  For those who don't know how a lineout works, you get lifted into the air at the last minute to receive the ball from your hooker (#2 jersey, not just some slut), and either keep it or offload it to an eager back.

Guy on the far right blue #2 jersey is a hooker, I'll be the dude in the air.

Basically, this is a dream come true.  At only 5'10", I had given up on being a lineout jumper before I even started practice.  It is typically a lock and 8-man position, as both are typically above 6'2", so thank the lawd I've got the limbs of a spider monkey.

Unfortunately we've only had indoor practices for a week.  Air quality is shit due to a giant fire right outside of town, so all we can really practice is out lineouts.

But dammit, we're gonna have one that is still worth taking pride in.

First Practice, or "Of Blisters and Cleatings"

So in keeping with the fact that I am a giant (though largely closeted) nerd, I was in Seattle for the Penny Arcade eXpo.  PAX has been a staple among my friends since it's creation, and I went the first 3 years before enlistment had plans for me that didn't quite line up with an annual fall trip to Seattle.  It was fun, I guess.  FortNite looks like an amazing game and I can't wait to see what Unreal Engine 4 can do, but to be honest after my first 90 minute line with a bunch of nonbathing devolved troglodytes, I was pretty much over it.  As a pretty blatant misanthrope I just truly didn't have the mental fortitude to do that dance more than about once.  So as much fun as getting to see old friends and nerd it up for a few days was, getting a practice in with Seattle's own Old Puget Sound Beach Rugby Football Club (OPSB RFC) was the highlight of my trip.
There are only so many drills you can do on your own and finally getting to run lines, test my hands, hit/clear rucks, and practice tackles was pretty much awesome.  My double-leg and single-leg takedowns (which are the only real wrestling I ever developed, aside from my front-headlock) will translate perfectly into rugby tackles, which is a great comfort since that is a lot of what 7s do.  The coaches were super kind and everyone was more than happy to help me if I just asked, making a pretty great learning environment for a new player.
Also, it was good to test my cleats on turf.  With mild compression socks I developed one of the nastiest blisters I've ever had, being so irate that the fluid in it was sanguineous.

This is the morning after first draining.

Not sure if because new cleats, because not in adequate socks for 2 hours of practice, or if the Wero Pro 8s just don't fit my wide-ass feet.  I'm trying to NOT look at this as an excuse to buy a new pair of cleats, as I know that is just me wanting to embrace my shoe/kit fetish, but only time will tell if I can hold off.
Also note the cleat mark on my ankle.  It sucks, and I'm not exactly sure what position I was in to make it happen.  Guessing I just took the ball into contact and the first man over me to clear the ruck stepped on it?  Odd stuff.
Either way, my love for this sport is confirmed.