Thanks, Rugby.

Thanks, rugby. A phrase I more often than not use facetiously. Example: I have 7 toenails, thanks rugby. Even in Thailand, that phrase has been pretty prevalent, although I do have all 10 toenails at this moment. Below are my favorite Thanks, rugby moments of the past month.

Today, in a rural village, I pushed a truck out of the mud. Thanks, rugby.

We went to the rural recycling plant to gain information on local recycling procedures and volume. Yesterday, it rained close to 24 hours so today, there is a lot of mud—especially in the recycling man’s driveway. As Thailand goes, of course he wasn’t home so we had to leave. We drove there in two trucks and an ambulance. None of which could get out of the mud. The two community men we were with were pushing, but could not get enough leverage. I was sitting in the cars with the translators begging “Can I go!? Can I help?? I love pushing cars!!!!” They weren’t responding, so I pulled the aggressive rugby move and jumped out of the car and began to help. Shortly, after I was covered in mud, all of the cars were out of the driveway. Oh, how I missed the scrum, even if I was just flanking a truck.

Pushing cars is near and dear to my heart. First, there was that one time before our crawfish boil that we pushed Jess’ jeep in pairs down the road. Brit and I had a blast with that. And the other time. Good ol’ Jonesboro, Arkansas on the world’s largest cluster fuck of a trip. Of course one of the vans would run out of gas on the way to the pitch. So the team created a large motorcade of protection down the main strip of Jonesboro and pushed that Town and Country to the nearest gas station.

I have ripped 3 pairs of pants in the past 4 weeks. Thanks rugby.

Prior to this summer, I had never ripped a pair of pants before. It first happened when I foolishly made Silky T hop onto my shoulders to chicken fight Alex and Tavie. That day, I had to say bye to my favorite pants and a little bit of dignity.

In Thailand, I ripped my first pair of elephant pants at a temple. I sat down to rest my feet and they split. Boring, I know. BUT, I walked 12 miles that day and over half was with a big split in the booty that just kept growing. Thank you, quads. The next pair of pants—an extra-large (so average size) I wore out to the club. Uptown Funk came on and of course Mac and I had to hop onto stage to spread the Uptown love. I thought I could lunge up onto the stage no problem. I was wrong. Again, I was the gift that kept giving. The final pair of pants, I ripped on the squatty potty. At this point in time, I think I should probably start wearing dresses everywhere…but we all know that will not be happening anytime soon J

I cuddled my rugby ball on the night bus to Bangkok. Thanks rugby.

           

Beach rugby is my favorite, so I obviously had to bring my ball to the beach. It didn’t fit into my weekend backpack, so I had to carry it. We took the night bus to Bangkok, so of course I was going to sleep. I curled up in my blanket and cuddled the rugby ball as if it were the coziest stuffed animal in history. Pathetic? Yeah, I think so. But no regrets.

I cannot be a spectator. Thanks rugby.

           

This past weekend, I went to go watch the Freshman Faculty 7s tournament. I decided I would take the time to find a bit of solitude and watch alone on a bleacher. Soon after the first game started, I noticed that I was standing on the top of the bleacher, screaming, and pointing at people on the field. If I did this at home, people would at least understand me before commenting on the ridiculousness. Here, they had no idea what I was saying—I was just that crazy rugby girl once again. Man, did I have fun that day. These games were hilarious. My favorite moment was during a pretty epic breakaway. The ball carrier was gaining speed, but the chaser was really coming up on him. Instead of pulling the no-fail stiff arm, he just cold punched the chaser in the face. Of course, there was not penalty. The lack of penalty is especially funny when looking back on the championship game when Alex got called for punching.

I get a little bit too HYPED. Thanks rugby.

I’ve had to stop listening to music while I run. I was running to my pre-game playlist. Then, I realized that I was running with way too much swag and was jumping around. If there was any time that I looked like an obnoxious American, this would be it. There is absolutely no reason to be jamming to Kendrick, Chance, and Big Freedia at 7am.

I miss my crazy teammates. Thanks rugby.

Often, we are asked the question “what do you miss?”. Often the answers range from cheese to the seasons, especially autumn. My answer is always my teammates. It’s one thing to miss your best friend, but it’s another to miss 30.

I’m a hooker, but not that kind. Thanks, rugby.

“Hi, I’m a hooker”, my first day practicing with the men. I made sure they didn’t get the wrong idea. But they knew rugby well enough to know that I could then help with the scrum.

Thanks rugby, for keeping me sane, empowering me, and helping me integrate into Thai culture.