Yesterday, I arrived at our rugby game on crutches, played, and left on crutches. I get asked all the time why I still play rugby. It began last spring when I was on crutches for the first time, and then again last semester when I got a severe concussion and was out of school for two weeks, and then again this semester. It absolutely floors people that I continue doing something that so clearly inconveniences me and causes me pain, but there is something that these people don’t see and won’t understand and that is the thrill of rugby.
I knew when I signed up for rugby that my body would be pushed to its absolute limits. Our coach always says “do a little bit better than your best.” There is something so addicting about seeing your teammates and your own capabilities tested. It’s that moment of awe and elation when a new player has the ball and is dodging the other team and breaks through their defensive line and leaves one of them on the ground from a misplaced tackle and then all that’s in front of her is the rest of the field and you can see her legs working faster than you’ve ever seen them run in your sprint workouts and you can see the distance between her and the defender chasing her growing and everyone watching knows that she’s going to make the try but she doesn’t know yet because when you’re running that fast with that much adrenaline you have no idea where anyone else is on the rest of the field.
There are also moments when I can feel my team running and breathing as a single unit. I remember one particular try from a game against Yale last fall where we didn’t get a breakaway but instead had gorgeous phase play where one player would get the ball, get tackled, someone else would secure the ball with a solid ruck, the ball would get out to another player and the same thing would happen again. This phase play is quite challenging because it requires everyone to get their timing off each other just right. You must know your teammates and what they’re capable of and where they will be instinctively. It is crucial that you support each other and capitalize on the hard work your friend has just given her all to accomplish. This is why phase play is so exhilarating because as a team you can accomplish so much more than any individual can. I imagine it’s what a water droplet feels when it joins a wave. The sheer power of the momentum that can be built from this team is intoxicating.
I have learned these past few years that I can do anything I set my mind to, but that there will be a cost. For example: I could have taken 22 credits this semester, but I knew that would have made my life miserable because I wouldn’t have had time to spend with friends and to relax. The trick is to decide whether it is worth it. I decided it wasn’t so I am not taking 22 credits this semester.
I did this type of cost-benefit analysis with rugby too. I added it up once and I spend upwards of 20 hours doing rugby things every week including practice, games, workouts, and my tasks for the eboard. This is one cost. Another cost is the time I spend being injured. I move more slowly on crutches. I am more tired. I have aches and pains and bruises and scrapes all over after games. But despite all these things, when I imagine my life without rugby it is small and boring and broken. I do not feel freed by the release of my commitment to rugby. I feel lost.
My teammates are the people I turn to in both celebration and desperation. There is a bond on that team that once formed cannot be broken and this is why I will crutch around with a smile on my face. I proved myself wrong this weekend. I did more than I thought I could and that memory will make me glide between my crutches for as long as I need to.
