Skip to main content"Grab my bra strap," the prop forward says. "Today, you become a man." Hard to argue with that. Besides, she kind of has me by the neck.
I dig for elastic on the ribs of women on either side of me. They link arms behind my back, sealing our bodies in an airtight weave. A woman named Sharkee orders us to sink, and we drop into a crouch. Someone behind me grabs my ankles and wedges my spikes into the correct stance, which a ballerina might recognize as the Fifth Position's mud-caked country cousin.
We surge forward...OK, let's be honest. The two women surge forward, dragging me along, smashing our shoulders into the Dominator. The Dominator, an iron wagon that looks like something used to smash castles in A.D. 1247, shudders. The three of us grind forward, faces about a foot above the mud.
And that's how, on a rainy Thursday in North Portland, I became a hooker with an all-girl gang.
The Oregon Rugby Sports Union Jesters, male and female, practice at Delta Park, crowded to the complex's edge by soccer, lacrosse, softball and men training attack dogs. In a weird way, a place on the fringe suits rugby perfectly.
Not that the game isn't popular. Rugby's one of the bigger world sports, outstripping even King Soccer in hotbeds like Australia and growing fast in the U.S. among both sexes, from national teams down to the high-school level. It's just that rugby fosters camaraderie normally found only on pirate ships. After spending a couple of evenings with ORSU's women as they prepped for this weekend's regional championships, I'm convinced something rebellious is hard-wired in rugby's DNA.
Basically, the game is simple enough; it looks a little like the American sport of helmets, pads and frequent Zima commercials. Two 15-player teams fight over an egg-shaped ball, attempting to score five-point "tries" (rugby's touchdown) or boot the spheroid through goalposts. But unlike football, rugby players wear almost no padding, and free-flowing 40-minute halves allow spectators few opportunities to replenish their Doritos.
So the fundamentals are easy. But to a rookie observer, the action resembles pagan chaos straight out of Braveheart. Start with the scrum, the maneuver we (and I use "we" in the loosest sense) practiced against the Dominator. Opposing teams collide in tightly braided formations, while the "hooker" attempts to scoop the ball free with his/her foot. Once the ball pops loose, more free-form violence erupts; this, after all, is a game where "good mauling" serves as a compliment.
And yet. Within apparent bloody mayhem, rugby demands lightning decision-making and tactical finesse one might call "delicate" in a less full-contact setting. Rugby's most entertaining plays unfold in Harlem Globetrotters-esque fractals of crisp lateral passes and sweeping runs.
"As I keep playing, I really appreciate the thinking side of the game more," says Elyse Fenton, a 22-year-old Jester. "It's really an intellectual game, in a lot of ways. You combine strategy with really physical play."
The ORSU women's side includes kids just out of college and moms who've played for years; lifelong athletes and women who never found a sport that clicked until they stumbled on rugby. Shaved heads, bleached stubble, blonde braids, mix-'n'-match shapes and sizes, dogs named Petey, Sissy and Ripper--the Jesters are a motley crew. Add a social tradition that is, shall we say, vigorous, and you have a sport that doubles as a full-fledged subculture.
"It's a cult," says prop forward Stephanie Rivak. "I moved here from across the country, and the girls here knew all the same rugby songs I did. I could go halfway around the world and have a place to stay and play rugby, and that's pretty incredible."
After my one-play stand as hooker, I take a turn as a "lock," just behind props and hookers in scrums. And I mean just behind. A lock inserts his or her head between the outer thighs of the hooker and one prop, who squeeze. The lock reaches between those teammates' legs and grabs their waistbands, wedging shoulders into thighs. The position, which nearly pulped my left ear in the 30 seconds I tried it, breeds special intimacy.
"Grab crotch, but not hair," another player instructed me. "It sucks when that happens."
That seemed like rugby in a nutshell--salty, physical, hard as hell, but ultimately based on the premise that if you're willing to give it a shot, they're willing to let you.
"A lot of the girls I coach don't really come from the jock crowd," says Marna Kranenburg, a 29-year-old Jester who coaches Lincoln High School's formative team. "They're looking for something to do, and they find this sport where people are incredibly accepting. Size doesn't matter, athletic ability doesn't necessarily matter, and a lot of the factors that might keep you down socially are actually cherished in the rugby world."
Cherished? Well, the ORSU women did put up with me, and even let me live. And if that's possible in this haven for sports nonconformists, anything goes.
11 am Saturday, April 26: Emerald City Mudhens vs. ORSU Jesters.1 pm: Bay Area Seahawks vs. Jesters. 3 pm: Emerald City vs. Bay Area.
Noon Sunday, April 27: Top two teams play for a berth in the "Sweet 16" national championship tournament.
Rugby makes a good spectator activity as long as you've got a taste for heavy contact sports.
For information on playing with ORSU, email recruiting@orsu.org . For a concise rundown of rugby rules, see www.scrum.com/primer .
The player in the center of the scrum's forward line, responsible for "hooking" the ball with his or her foot.
The two "prop forwards," who literally prop up the hooker during the scrum.
WWeek 2015