Another update...about rugby and homebrewing again, strangely enough.

My first Rugby game as a player occured on Saturday. I caught the train to campus and then met up with the team at our practice grounds.

Ever seen the movie "Leatherheads"? Not an excellent movie by any means. Fun to watch, worth seeing once, perhaps, but I wouldn't purchase it. I'm sorry, I digress. The movie is about the early days of the NFL and how just very amateur everything was. My day on Saturday reminded me much of this movie (only with 100% less George Clooney)

After everyone arrived, everyone divided into cars and started heading off. No team bus this week. Nobody knew where exactly we were going. Myself and another piled into Moonbeam's car. (When he introduced himself, I remarked "Wow, that's feminine". He responded "I have a very white chest.") "If you have a car, why do you ride the bus?" I asked. He explained that it was not his car, it was his girlfriend's, but it was worth borrowing it and spending the extra $10 in petrol to guarantee a comfortable seat. "Some weeks we have 15 cars and 17 players, and some weeks we have 25 players and 4 cars...and trust me they all fit somewhere." We are reminded by the coach to bring some footy balls this time so that we can warm up before the game. Apparently this is brought up because it did not happen on more than one previous occasion. Our coach is also one of the best players on the team.

30 minutes later, I asked a very important question. "Mr Davis, where did you get these directions? Did a man on a street corner print them for you?" I figured this was the only reasonable explanation for why we had turned off of the freeway, in the opposite direction of the Hunter Valley Vineyard sign, and onto a single lane dirt road, which seemed to be going through a national park. Hope came when the dirt road turned back into pavement, but was again dashed when the road turned back into dirt. This was very funny the first 3 times it happened, but lost humor the next 7 or 8 times. We were following a car that was presumed to be driven by another Rugby player...but then that car pulled off the road and turned around and it was not whoever thought it was. The situation was made that much more terrible when Moonbeam refused to take his girlfriend's CD out of the stereo. Then there were three guys with ridiculously short rugby shorts riding in a car with pink seat covers and plush doggies listening to Boys II Men in the middle of a national park.

The directions led us into a tourist village. "Hunter Valley Vineyards" proclaimed the sign. There was a bottle shop, wine tours, a general store and a small park. There was "Aqua golf" which is a driving range on a lake (and I was assured it's as ridiculous as it sounds." This seemed like a terrible place for a rugby field. "Look for footy sticks" (goalposts). Somehow, and I really have no idea how this happened, we arrived at our destination. "Don't mention anything about a dirt road, in case there was an easier way to go".

The field was in laughable condition. The shod had recently been replaced and was coming up everywhere. There were some very soggy areas that were just short of holding standing water. There was a sandal in one of the try areas "I am definitely leaving that there". Three out of the four pylons were already tipped over. The best part of all...the entire field was on a visible slope. "We're going to play you in the half we're going downhill" someone said to Moonbeam.

Locker rooms? Pshh. Everyone stripped down on the side of the field. The water bottles were half full from the previous week, and the tap was several hundred meters away. During pregame warmups, we are sitting in a circle stretching. I notice two guys laughing and raise an eyebrow. "Hey Seppo, are you wearing boxer shorts?" My boxers were HANGING OUT THE BOTTOM of my rugby shorts. "That's a mistake you'll only have once". (I am called Seppo, or Seppy, or Whiskey. When it became known I was American, I was told there was already another American on the team and I would have to be given a different nickname. Whiskey comes from Wisconsin. Seppo comes from septic tank, which rhymes with "yank" and apparently is an old rugby term or something.)

The game began and we jumped out to an early lead. The other players not in the game are doing their best to explain every last aspect of the game to me. There's so much to remember, but I seem to be getting the hang of it.

Halftime happens when we score a fourth uncontested try. One of the assistant referees leaves and we are short a linesman. They ask us if we have anyone that can fill the role and a kid that was watching the game takes the spot.

I am asked if I am ready to go in. "Absolutely!" I am asked if I know what I am doing. "Not a clue!" I get a 30 second crash course at the position (Stay in the line, keep moving forward...but pretty much hit anyone with the ball. I tell them I cannot wait to hit somebody.) We kick off because we have just scored. I make three tackles in the first five minutes I am playing, including a very nice form tackle right in front of our bench. It was a pretty solid head-on hit. I got lower than he was, drove with my shoulder, exploded my hips through him, whatever the buzz phrase that's been hammered into my head from 5th grade on. I was told that I "absolutely ran him over". Later on the sideline, someone asked "Did everyone see Seppo's hit? I saw stars and stripes, the star spangled banner started playing, and a bald eagle swooped overhead." God bless American footy (or gridiron). We have possession of the ball near the opponent's try line, when a penalty is called. The referee just up and ends the game, something like 10 minutes early. Final score 34-5, University.

We shake hands at midfield. This is normal. I am surprised and pleased by what happens next. The other team gives us three cheers and we return the favor. Then they form a "tunnel" clapping as we leave the field. Someone from their team brings over a cooler full of the local microbrew. I had a very delicious Wattle Seed Ale. Our team votes on an MVP, and two runners up.

We take our beers over to the other team's bench and drink beers with them and talk. One of their members asks if our center is wearing a size 13 judging by the marks on his legs. He was.

We meet back at midfield for the "boat race", which is a table with 6 beers. The MVP and runners up from each team have a relay race of the best kind. We win this game as well.

We meet later that night at the bar that sponsors our team for some "team building exercises." The coach is there and I am informed that if practice goes well this week, I may be starting next week. In the interests of self-preservation, most of the players seem to shy away from contact. Having been taught for many years how to make proper contact with pads on, I am not afraid of contact. We will see how long I hold up without shoulder pads on though!



Homebrewing update.

The beer stopped producing Co2 sometime on Saturday so I figured it was just about ready to be bottled. I checked the final gravity of the beer and found it to be just right, about 1005. I set up an assembly line of sorts, where there would be one beer soaking in sterilizer, one beer being rinsed, one beer drying, then one being filled, sugared, and capped. Everything went smoothly and I am left with a yield of 25x 750ml bottles, and two 600ml bottles. The beer tasted strong from what I could tell, but smelled absolutely delicious. It's this wonderful medium brown color. These next two weeks are going to be rough as I have to look at my 26 babies in the closet, just waiting! I may start another batch in the meantime.

That might be the longest thing I've ever written. Kudos to anyone that reads all the way through that.