A few weeks ago on a cold clear Saturday morning I went for a walk in my local park. By chance, I walked past a game of under 14s rugby.
Old habits die hard, so I stopped and watched.
From my first glance, I could see that both teams were fully committed. Running with intent, making brave tackles, rolling in the mud with ’ unquenchable energy of youth, the players bounced with enthusiasm.
While the planet is gripped with the fear of Covid and China is waging Wolf Warrior diplomacy against the west, as Boris bungles Brexit, the only thing that mattered to these guys was the match.
The away team, who were down by four points, were dedicated to strategies that could take the oval-shaped piece of inflated white plastic they held and carry it across the thin white line marked on the bumpy grass.
The boys were puffing so hard that they were, as we say "sucking in low-flying seagulls"
The defending home team were unconcerned with Joe Biden’s declining approval ratings or that Russian president Putin was massing his troops on the Ukrainian border. They had much more important matters on their mind, such as taking turns at hurling their young bodies at the other boys who were carrying the inflated piece of oval plastic.
It was impossible not to smile.
All 30 players were giving it all they had. The boys were puffing so hard that they were, as we say “sucking in low-flying seagulls”.
In the middle of all this was an ageing referee. With a crooked nose and a pair of ears plucked from a bag of Brussels sprouts. He was obviously a former player as he appeared to require a great deal of self-restraint to not dive into the bottom of the odd ruck.
There were a few questionable lineout throws from both teams which he wisely ignored. Several ruck infringements were greeted with "all good" and one very dodgy pass that was more forward than a Tom Brady 'Hail Mary' he described as "flat . . . Play on". He was doing such a great job of making the game enjoyable for the kids that I hoped he might get a late call up to adjudicate on Leinster's match today.
As the ref whistled full-time and the boys clasped hands, before the winning team formed a tunnel and clapped the opposition and the referee from the field, I resumed my rambling. Soon I realised my path was passing close to where the winning team was holding their post-match huddle. The players were sitting on the grass as the coach was passing out slices of orange, along with what looked like mini chocolate bars. All the parents were gathered behind and watched on.
I stopped and observed. As I said, old habits . . .
The coach was a good one. He instructed his players that they could only take a piece of orange and chocolate if they had told the group something they thought the team had done well in the match.
His lesson to his players was that winning is not the only objective. While every team must always aim to win, learning, improving and enjoyment are equally essential.
As in just about every team in the history of rugby, the scrumhalf was the first to speak up. He was by far the smallest boy in the team, but he had the heart of a warrior. I had seen him tackle several players well above his weight. Like all good 9s he was a cheeky “talk-a-holic”.
Ironically he said the teams’ communication was much improved. This was greeted with laughs from his team-mates because he had yelled at his forward pack all day. It is amazing how generation after generation of big forwards love to have a “yappy” little scrumhalf bossing them about.
The tighthead prop then spoke up. He was built like a bag of cement, with a chest as deep as it was wide. His shape would not be wanted in the basketball team and he probably did not have the speed or endurance for football or GAA, but in rugby he was diamond.
The cornerstone of the team, doing the essential dirty yards that nobody else wanted to do. He inhaled the chocolate and mutilated the orange in a split second. Like a lot of props, his wisdom saw the world in a different light. His observation was, “I could feel the support of the pack when we scrummed”.
The game is a learning tool for life and the learning never stops
When it was his time to shine at the scrum, he could literally feel his mates physical strength. Those young players reminded me that Ireland’s great provincial teams that play in the professional competitions are just like millions of others who have played rugby around the globe. They learned their values playing junior rugby.
Rugby is a team game that takes kids, like the ones I had watched, many with physiques that are not wanted in any other sport, and then makes them feel deeply needed and valued. The game enhances their self worth.
I thought how fortunate those kids are to be in such a positive team environment. Like all schools and junior clubs, they don’t play rugby to create professional players. Junior rugby fosters an ethos that aims to create quality people and influence them with the values of the game. Rugby is about finding joy in overcoming the adversity that is part of its DNA.
The difficulties that rugby throws up helps the players to discover that they are far more physically, mentally and spiritually resilient than they believed they ever could ever be.
Those who commit to the game can have their life’s journey enhanced.
The ethos learned at schools, juniors and AIL clubs creates the quality values we see every week in our professional provincial teams. The game is a learning tool for life and the learning never stops.
At today’s Leinster match at the Aviva, some former professional players, now middle-aged men, will be gathering to reconnect and celebrate the joys they experienced when they played together. Twenty years ago a 14-man Leinster team defeated Munster at Lansdowne Road in the first Celtic League Cup Final.
With great generosity, the Leinster Branch is getting that team together for the first time since that win. It was my great privilege to have been their coach.
This group won Leinster’s first major professional trophy, but the cup is not what is important, which is just as well because it disappeared for several months in the post-match celebrations.
Like that under 14s team, the collective journey that Leinster team endured to find the mindset and courage to overcome the adversity that a powerful Munster posed has provided life lessons that have far outweighed the points on the scoreboard. In proving to the nation they were capable of achieving what most believed impossible, they also proved to themselves that they were worthy of success.
If you can find comrades of great character, people who will stand by you long after the final whistle has gone, then you will have experienced the wonderful life-affirming feeling of being part of a great team.
Those ageing old warriors and that under-14 team have more in common than both teams will ever know.
I am pretty certain Leinster will beat Bath today, but then again, the scoreboard will not be the only thing of great value at the Aviva this afternoon. I might even hand out some sliced orange and chocolate.
