I’ve played rugby every evening of every grey and dark
Saturday and stifling Sunday; evenings of liniments, bruises, effort and sweat.
Just smelling the grass, my mind recalls thousand memories.
I sure that, sooner or later, my legs won’t fancy more
sprints from back row, in spite of my mind will keep looking for the hooker’s
hip.
I’ve learnt a precious liturgy from rugby, a useful
heritage for the rest of my life. I learnt that fifteen can shove more than
one, but if just one is not shoving, the others will notice. I learnt to be
quiet, to bow my head in respect without felling less than others, to be honest
and to empty my self to be fulfilled. To understand that standing in a circle,
shoulder to shoulder with my team fellows, repeating the word humbleness time
and again, we’ve already won; whether we might score nil or a thousand. I
learnt how important to form a Guard of Honour is, specially wining, and the
other team effort should be prized.
I’ve played rugby and I learnt to accept without
complaining; to do not resign myself, to work to know how hard is to move 1
meter forward quietly, and how easy 10 meters can be lost due to speak to much.
To respect all the decisions tightly, to applaud my fellows’ mistakes, which
are mine too, and above all, to rise one hundred times.
This game of villains played by gentlemen taught me valuable lessons, many of them lack
in meaning and misunderstood to the uninitiated eyes: a day full of sour and
wounds, but happy and pleased because of devotion, commitment and other sort of
things that my mum will never understood. To know the value of a rough striped
shirt, coat of mail of bravery and duty. The third half time, where all that
remains are anecdotes, hugs, chivalry, comradeship, laughs and a “see you next
match!”.
If you ever played rugby, you will always belong to a
family without boundaries, with its own language, thinking and a common point
of view. Regardless where you are, won’t be boundaries. Even after retired of
playing, the stripes will dog you, you will recognize a striped shirt worn by a
stranger, and if you ask him “Have you ever played rugby?” right away you will
find yourself sharing a beer… or some.
The fact is that you can cease to be so many things,
but you always will be a rugby player facing life.
Original by: Rafael Muñoz Abad. Club de Rugby
Universidad de La Laguna
. Santa Cruz de Tenerife, Tenerife.
Translation and adaptation by: myself
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