Who says you have to be a rugby player to play women’s rugby?
If I were to tell you that I took up women’s rugby as a result of my well-known competitive nature, superior sprinting skills and naturally muscular physique, I’d be telling a lie. The truth is, I’m no sportswoman. In fact, I more appropriately fit the stereotype of music geek, that neurotic violinist who excused herself from P.E lessons for the majority of secondary school life in fear of ‘breaking a finger…or an arm’.
However, moving 300 miles away from home miraculously compelled me to interrupt this trend and try something new, and the Societies Fair at the start of term welcomed freshers with open arms. But I still found myself sweating, ironically before starting any exercise, as I searched the tables desperately for a sports club that required near to no experience. Feeling daunted by the notoriously bitchy reputations of both Netball and Hockey, my eyes were somehow drawn to the sign for ‘Women’s Rugby’.
It would be an understatement to say that my parents were surprised by my decision to sign up to one of the roughest and potentially damaging sports on offer, bearing in mind my admittedly shameful sporting track-record and unsuited physicality, as well the significantly vain amount of money I’d recently spent on braces. But mouth-guard at the ready, I was determined to give it a try.
Our first game came around in a flash and I can honestly say that I was not prepared, physically or mentally, for the girls who we were up against. Bruised and disheartened, we hobbled away from Maiden Castle with a remarkable 82-0 loss, despite the fact that the game should end once a team reaches 50 points. Yes. We were that bad, and our second game didn’t bring us much luck either. Back at college, we were mocked for our failures; several groups even said they’d come to watch for entertainment’s sake. However, game three brought with it our first ever try and a promising ray of hope.
After tackling the first hurdle, and abandoning the compulsion to apologize every time you get a girl to the ground, women’s rugby really is the best way to go. It’s a perfect remedy for stress relief and also a rare socially-acceptable opportunity to act aggressively in public (just as long as you don’t grab a girl’s hair instead of her shirt in the middle of a match like I did). But the thrill when you walk into brunch on a Saturday, covered in mud and ready to announce a victory, makes all the heavy hits worthwhile.
So don’t be put off if you’re not a typical rugby player-you should join your college team! Besides, what’s more appropriate, if you’re looking to throw yourself into something new, than literally throwing yourself, fearlessly, into complete strangers.