So today was my second Saturday of rugby practice, and this time enough people showed up that after about 45 minutes of drills we played an actual game. Although because I pulled my left quad during one of those drills, and because I'm not an idiot, I decided that I would play defensively and not get right into the scrums and rolling catfights that characterize determining control of the ball. The worst part was, being picked last for teams! For those of you who grew up butterfingerly, gangly, or otherwise unsuited for athletics, I'm sorry, but I've never before been picked last for any sport. Christ on crutches! But at least the team that got stuck with me cheered when I walked over, and while I wasn't up there scoring touchdowns (or whatever they're called in this game), I was making some plays, passing and blocking. Ron, one of the team captains, even bowled me over, right out of my shoes.
The best part was, Greg came by to see me play and came away greatly reassured that I wasn't playing with a bunch of meatheads, so now he feels a lot better about it. Even though I told him that was so; they're nice guys. Which frankly is fine with me. You can imagine: playing rugby in Mexico, being the only girl on the field, is a little intimidating. At least I'm taller than most of the other players (though beefier would be more handy) and can handle the ball and myself. But still. Then to get this constant background buzz of, ooh, it's dangerous, you shouldn't do that, what if ..., blah blah blah. It makes it hard to stay confident, and I don't like not being confident. Especially when the alternative is to take up something safe, like guitar or embroidery. I have to run around and be in motion, I've learned that, or I go crazy. And if there are some risks, okay by me. But try saying that and then living with all your friends and family (which, down here, is all of one person) disapproving what you do. I don't have it in me, at least not for sustained periods. So apparently I've got the constitution to be slammed to the ground and stepped on by my teammates but not to live in conflict. Crazy, huh?
The best part was, Greg came by to see me play and came away greatly reassured that I wasn't playing with a bunch of meatheads, so now he feels a lot better about it. Even though I told him that was so; they're nice guys. Which frankly is fine with me. You can imagine: playing rugby in Mexico, being the only girl on the field, is a little intimidating. At least I'm taller than most of the other players (though beefier would be more handy) and can handle the ball and myself. But still. Then to get this constant background buzz of, ooh, it's dangerous, you shouldn't do that, what if ..., blah blah blah. It makes it hard to stay confident, and I don't like not being confident. Especially when the alternative is to take up something safe, like guitar or embroidery. I have to run around and be in motion, I've learned that, or I go crazy. And if there are some risks, okay by me. But try saying that and then living with all your friends and family (which, down here, is all of one person) disapproving what you do. I don't have it in me, at least not for sustained periods. So apparently I've got the constitution to be slammed to the ground and stepped on by my teammates but not to live in conflict. Crazy, huh?
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