Rogue Sports

Saturday night I witnessed my first rugby union game as the local pro team had a match against Narbonne. My overall impression? Overwhelmed but impressed. I learned that my rugby "knowledge" (by which I mean I know you can't throw the ball forward and it's called a try not a touchdown) was wholly insufficient to understand what was going on exactly 98% of the time.

To attempt to reconcile this to something I am somewhat more familiar with, I like to think that if soccer and American football had a lovechild, it would be a beautiful 7 lb. 3 0z. baby boy named Rugby. He would be a stout little fellow, and would blaze his own path in the sports world... Short shorts and all.

Unfortunately, I was informed that my little metaphor is pretty much totally incaccurate due to the fact that American football evolved from rugby... or was it soccer? Something like that. Either way, it's all backwards. History aside, those are some crazy fools.

Some of the barbarianism I was privvy to included a player getting a knee rammed (that was for you Heids) in his nose and another guy picked up and straight flipped upsidedown, mid-stride. One minute, he's enjoying the crisp September air, the next, he can't remember his own name let alone what sport he's playing... Poor little lamb.

It was another solid weekend for Albi sports and the boys managed to pull off a 28-22 W. After the game was a VIP dinner of sorts for the supporteurs and the lady that gave us the tickets to the game got 4 teammates and me in. What a champ. I somehow forgot that mealtime in France translates to at least 3 hours à table so we finally rolled out around midnight having gorged ourselves on foie gras, bread and yet more cheese. K, actually I hate foie gras and the cheese plate was a little disappointing but I'm trying to maintain an image here.

Anyway I vowed that I'd brush up on my rugby trivia before the next match, and also due to the fact that a bonafide rugbyman is soon to marry into the fam (Sarah - tell Chris to take pity on my patheticness). Unforunately, so far I'm just more confused than before. Maybe I'll just learn the chants the locals were singing all game long in the stands... If that doesn't work out I could also probably audition be one of the fans playing the drums since last time we somehow got prime seats RIGHT behind the "band"... it was 2 hours of incessant pounding and confetti filled delirium... Allez les jaunes et noirs.

Blinded by the light

Nice hair bro

You'd be making that face too if that guy was coming after you...

Cute English-speaking children