But, I did my dutiful duty in both the musical and athletic arena. When Clay finished high school football, I thought I was done with sitting in the elements, watching my son's potential for injury rise in direct proportion to my inability to understand what had happened on the field.
However, last fall Clay enrolled in the Thunderbird School of Global Management and took up rugby. Yesterday we travelled to Flagstaff to watch him play in a tournament.
Now, I'm married to a football enthusiast, and I have tried mightily to understand the game. And I do, somewhat. I understand downs, off-sides, touchbacks, two-point conversions, offense, defense, most of the basic stuff. I also understand that the last two minutes of a game can take forever. It's a really intense game, but in short spurts.
But rugby! Now, there's an intense game in loooonnng spurts. I knew very little about the game before yesterday, but here's what I love about it, as opposed to football: The players never have to say die. Say the ball carrier is halfway down the field and goes down. Even though he's down, he can toss it to someone else who can toss it to someone else who can get buried under a pile. As soon as there's daylight, he can toss it to someone else or someone can get it from him and head on out. The forward motion doesn't stop for anything except a foul.
Also, in the aforementioned pile, it's fair for the opposing team to haul people off, toss them to the side, and go after the ball. Having secured it, they take off for their end zone (not called that, I'm sure).