That's sort of fitting, actually (which makes it quite unlike my average title) (and if you don't recognize it, it's from a Neil Young song). See, for months I've had the weekend of the 6th penned in on my calendar. Friday night rugby against Clemson, then Saturday and Sunday at Earlewood. In all seriousness, how can you get any better? I despise Clemson so that's always a great game, plus they bring a great crowd out to watch. And Earlewood? Please. Go read what I think of it. Top notch (really, top notch). Can you do Caddyshack quotes in text? Somehow I don't think so.
So the weekend's rolling around and I find out Leo Kottke will be playing in Atlanta that Friday night. Dilemma. See, I have this mental list of people to see before I/they die and Leo's solidly on that list. If I skip the rugby game I can see him, then drive 4 hours to Columbia and get there by 3 or so, plenty of time to get some sleep and wake up at 7 for my first real tournament as a pro. If Leo wasn't so young, I would've done it. And in retrospect, I would've done it. But I didn't.
At practice the Thursday before the game we lost a couple of our best players to injury and found out that a couple others couldn't make it to the game. So, missing 4 of our best 5 or 6 players we went up there and got absolutely demolished (obligatory Dennis Miller: stomped like a narc at a biker rally) 54-0. Sheesh. Now, one of my favorite things about rugby is that everyone who practices plays. 15 play at a time so if we have 30 guys who practice, we play two games. There are plenty of teams that play 3 games every weekend because they have so many players at practice. We only brought about 20 guys so lots of them had to play the second game as well (see, Clemson had plenty for two games so we had to come up with enough...) and, in the forwards, a bald, out of shape forward was drafted. That would be yours truly.
The game went well, we won (and so took at least a little bit of respectability away from the games). With about 5 minutes left Clemson was on our 5 meter line, pushing hard. I got stupid and actually made a tackle (*gasp*) and hurt my thumb. On my throwing hand. Dammit.
It wasn't broken but I couldn't throw a disc (and keep your smart comments to yourself, what do you say? [which is also a stolen line]) and ended up playing Saturday lefthanded. And very, very poorly. I shot a 65 the first round, a 69 the second. Awful. I hated every second of it. Well, except for the tournament part, if that makes any sense. The swelling went down some that night and I threw forehand on Sunday and did well enough that I felt good about the weekend, but I really hope I never have to do that again. But I guess we'll see in March.