Ruck On Troja Ruggers

The Trojans fought on, fiercely hitting anything in an opposing jersey, clawing their way down the field. Down three, they needed a score desperately. But they just seemed enveloped in that nightmare in which you run as hard as you can without going anywhere, your fears closing on you.

They advanced into opposing territory, but their fear, the final whistle, caught up with them. Their season was over, the players were despondent and exhausted from a game they felt was theirs.

Now take that image and eliminate 92,000 fans, the Rose Bowl, TV cameras, pads, and forward passes. Not to mention scholarships, perks, and the prospect of a professional athletic career. Now you’ve entered the world of USC club rugby, particularly its crushing 16-13 defeat at the hands of LMU in the Southern California Division II regional semifinals.

It may seem like Hawaii without the beaches or beautiful weather. But look closer. There are still two teams of testosterone-charged, college-aged young men hell-bent on beating each other brainless. There are still a pair of uprights and a crossbar on either end, along with a line each team desperately wants to put the ball across, and another line they will defend at the cost of their physical well-being.

At the final whistle, the cardinal and gold-clad ruggers were either showing hands-on-knees exhaustion or complete collapse. Two solid weeks of preparation had them playing their best rugby of the year, but LMU could say the same. And a rugby ball, like a football, doesn’t always bounce straight.

The players are not athletic freaks in the mold of USC scholarship athletes. They aren’t the kids from Little Giants either. Most played high school football. All possess a competitive thirst, one that intramurals simply cannot quench. Starting forwards (the team’s muscle) average just over 200 pounds and are fairly athletic. Backs (finesse players) are generally former running backs and receivers, with lateraling skills that Reggie Bush could have used. A small handful had rugby experience when they came, especially the scrum-half, (read: quarterback/point guard), a New Zealander.

They meet and practice Tuesdays and Thursdays, learning a sport that almost none of them grew up with, that most had never heard of before college. Unlike lacrosse and hockey, other contact club sports manned predominantly by kids who played in high school, rugby has to recruit guys who couldn’t pick a rugby ball out of a lineup.

"Rugby, that’s like football without pads, right?"

Yeah, and golf is like croquet in a really big yard. There is running, tackling, and an end zone with goalposts. Comparisons pretty much end there.

The sport takes a semester just to learn well enough to stop looking more confused than a Hawaiian on skis. Which isn’t surprising: imagine how long it would take a New Zealander to learn to hit a curveball. To fully describe the nuances in this space is impossible, but the major sticking points for former football players is the illegality of forward passes and blocking (or even being in front of the ball, basically), and eliminating the tendency to fight for the extra yard when possession is more important. (The game flows without stoppages except for penalties, scores, and the ball going out of bounds.)

But the side of rugby some may be vaguely aware of but few fully comprehend is the social aspect. After a game it is customary for a home team to host a party for both teams. You think Matt Leinart had a beer with Vince Young after the Rose Bowl and ribbed him for his genuflecting lateral? Not likely. But rugby teams come together, generally before showering, to eat some burgers, trade stories, and nurse a keg (largely to offset the imminent soreness set to arrive once the adrenaline wears off).

The sport is brutal, and so are the people who play it. If you are afraid of stitches, a busted nose, or a messed-up shoulder, you’re playing Russian roulette. But despite that, the culture of the game is one of class.

This does not mean all players play clean. There is one ref to regulate 30 players on the field. And while most of the action is concentrated around the ball, there is generally room for cheap shots.

But take them at your own peril: this sport has a vigilante system that makes baseball bean-ball wars seem tame. You can end up with the metal cleats of rugby boots on your back very easily. There are even times when the ref will allow a player to "rake" an opponent’s back when his body is on the ground, in the way of the ball (where it isn’t supposed to be). Sometimes the player getting raked is called for a penalty for not rolling away.

In the end, justice is generally served, and players don’t cross the line too far in fear of being "sin-binned," or in other words sent to the penalty box for about 10 minutes. Like hockey, this leaves a team shorthanded, as no sub can replace the man. But you basically have to throw a punch for that, get into multiple scuffles, or commit the same penalty repeatedly.

Football is often compared by metaphor to battle. But it is far too structured for that. Rugby is a better analogy. With the apparent chaos and the nonstop play, with only six substitutions available per team, players are on an island for 80 minutes of running, hitting, driving, and scrapping.

There is no better feeling than to walk off after those 80 minutes with a win.

There is nothing lower than coming off just short.

The day after the loss, the team had the playoff’s consolation game against UC Irvine. After the brutal loss, no one showed up to the field in much mood to play the meaningless game preceding the regional final (in which the Claremont Colleges would beat LMU in overtime). Warmups were lax, and only four starters started the game (due to injury and the desire to get some younger players experience). But after watching Irvine take a 8-5 lead at half, six starters came off the bench to dominate Irvine, 29-8. Seniors got at least a little of the wretched taste of the LMU game out of their mouths as they hammered the Anteaters.

"That was fun," one of the seniors remarked with a grin on his face.

Disturbing as it sounds, that’s the idea.