So I played a rugby game on Sunday, with the ex-Tochigi (county) champions, Sano rugby club. (Not to be confused with the professional outfit stationed in the same area, these guys are very much amateur.)
Some ten years ago, this club was a force to be reckoned with, apparently.
Anyway, the short synopsis of events, before the long unveiling of the action as I remember it, is as follows: It was hot. We only played for thirty minutes each way, because it was hot. I had a headache after five seconds of running around.
So both teams were ready for the kickoff, with a lengthy preparation time deemed necessary for the newly formed Sano back line; expectation was high. At least until we started playing together, and the language barrier was immediately erected.
After some confusion (a lot of confusion on my behalf) we ironed out four moves. A couple of switches and a couple of miss-passes. Not exactly a fearsome arsenal, but it was the best we could do.
We were lucky enough to kick-off, and after an immediate knock-on, me and my inside centre (I was playing number 13, (Outside centre) performed a switch. That was 1/4 of our moveset used already. Thirty seconds as we were into the game, it worked nicely. I went straight through a gap in their defensive line, barely got by the full-back (he was close up against the back line, so I had to put my best foot forward to dance past him) and scored under the posts. I would like to say this set the tone for a one-sided game, but rather it just proved to everyone that defence is not important to these guys.
Essentially, every time we scored, they scored too.
After them scoring (within five minutes) we were pinned inside our own 22. Our defence (somehow) managed to hold out for a few phases, and rather than build pressure, the opposition attempted a cheeky kick under the radar. Luckily, our fullback was also English, and has watched enough France games to know this was coming. He dabbed the ball down and immediately threw it forwards to our number 10. Sensing an opportunity, he kicked the ball a centimetre over the line, picked it up, drew a man and off-loaded the ball to me. Now, watching a 110kg Samoan about to tackle you may seem intimidating - but having a whole pitch and three or four players to get past, in an oven, is even more intimidating. So I went for a run.
By about halfway I had managed to outmanoeuvre a few of their defenders, and by the ten metre line only one man was chasing me. By the 22 I was easing back for fear of blowing a gasket, and, when I did eventually reach the line, I flopped over. Tiring stuff.
Apparently, the water-guy could tell how hot I was by how red I was, and would throw varying amounts of water at me as a result. It would take about three or four minutes to cool down enough to go on another run, at which point my headache would return.
Around the halfway stage of the first half, a curious incident occurred that hinted at the nature of Japanese rugby players. We had just knocked on, and there was a scrum forming. I was jogging back into position, head down, willing my headache away, when one of their flankers shoulder charged me. Bearing in mind the whistle was blown a good 30 seconds before this incident, and that the opposition player knocked me on my ass in front of everyone, it was incredible that nothing came of it. I can't comment on whether the referee saw it directly, because I was on my backside and not really aware of anything other than that fact. I can only assume he didn't, or he really hated foreigners (he ignored me all match, when I was asking him if we were on-side at scrums and rucks, eventually one of the linesmen took pity on he and helped me out). This event, coupled with a late rucking challenge (late because the whistle was blown fifteen seconds before the challenge occurred) where I was bridging over a ball and ensuring their players couldn't reach it, when one of their players just ran full pelt into my side (illegal because, he came in from the side and it was an aeon after the whistle was blown to end play) giving me a nice bruise on my hip. I should point out that it was our ball, so they shouldn't have been challenging, and the guy who ran into me was a dick.
These events, coupled with a few more niggly half-punches, have led me to conclude that Japanese rugby players are filthy. I would expect one or two of these things to happen in England, per match. Not all of them. Especially not all of them to me. I'm not even a forward for Christs sake; that stuff goes on in the scrum, not open play in front of the referee. Seeing as very little (if anything) happened to anyone else on the team, I can only assume one alternative. They're extremely xenophobic, and this is their outlet. Either way, no harm was done, and I'm more than happy with my performance (despite one enormous, gut wrenching mistake towards the end.)
So we resume, halfway through the first half. Our fullback was a fellow Englishman (the only 2 white people on the pitch) who proved his worth several times. Throughout the next period, he fielded a number of kicks and stopped a number of breakaways. It was all-round good stuff. During this period I think I scored another try, but I can't remember. They scored just before half-time, and we had scored another prior, so we were up one or two tries at this point.
The second half felt even hotter, although I'm sure it was just my imagination. We opened with a convincing attack down the wing, where I gratefully took a ball behind their defensive line while being herded by the winger and fullback into a corner. The winger got me about five metres from the line, with the fullback joining in a stride later. One of their centres eventually joined in, and with three of them scratching, scraping, punching and kicking at me - I fell over the line for my third or fourth.
Then came a period of concerted effort on behalf of the opposition, pushing us back to our own line on a number of occasions. At one stage, with me and the fly half the only defensive line, it appeared a certainty that they would score. They went through hands laterally, allowing my inside man to tackle a ball carrier. He off-loaded, giving the opposition a four on one against me. I tracked along, the first man passed to the next, turning it into a three on one. Then, out of nowhere, our full-back nailed their ball carrier. He managed to pass out of the tackle, but it was sloppy. The ball went high and wide, giving the recipient a few metres of touchline to work with. Unfortunately for him, I had continued tracking the ball and bundled him into touch. Rather unceremoniously. My entire team, bar the full-back, were waiting for them to score and had all but meandered back to the halfway line. Thanks to some sterling work by the full-back, this certain try scoring situation was overturned. Some indecision on behalf of the opposition led to a breakout, and what was a certain try for the pinks (their team colour) became a loose play miracle try for us.
This is certainly a feature of Japanese rugby. They lack the physicality to compete in tackles (they are angry, but can't channel that aggression) or during the ruck or maul situation, but they have an extremely open, extremely interesting open play game. They're very much like the French national team in this regard. Broken play suits them well, and off-loading in the tackle creates some fantastic situations for flowing rugby.
So in the last five or ten minutes of play, we broke out of our own half once again, thanks to some fantastic running by our full-back. He took a few players out of commission, then off-loaded to me. I was away, with only two people to beat. I edged closer to their line, and with about ten metres to go, made a ridiculous decision. They were both on my inside, and I should have feinted inside and gone outside for a try in the corner. It would have been tight, but I could have made it. Instead, I did the opposite, hoping to wrong-foot the first guy and bludgeon the second. I stepped the first guy fine, but upon hitting the second guy I was well bought down. The plan, then, was to put the ball down, get up and pick the ball up from my own side. This is perfectly legal assuming the tackler has let go. Unfortunately, a third player bundled me from behind when I was getting up (not knowing or caring that I didn't have the ball) and managed to take off my left boot. I have no idea how he managed it, and can only assume he slide tackled me. That would have been okay, except my boot was done up tightly, and in working loose it made my foot do the chinese foot binding thing, and folded it over. The upshot is, that after some pain I left the field, and didn't get back on in the remaining five minutes. My foot is pretty damned blue, but I've been walking on it okay after resting it yesterday. Another week and it'll be back to perfect.
The upshot: Not only did I screw up a perfect opportunity to add my fourth or fifth (after a great breakout by the full-back) but I got injured in the process. I felt like a right lemon.
As far as I know man of the match awards are given; but on this occasion it would have gone to either myself or the full-back, and that kind of recognition of foreigners is best left to other members of society.
Final score: 32 (maybe) to 24 (ish)
We went for food afterwards, and in that time we were invited along for training at a club called pig nose. Like Sano won their county league a decade ago, pig nose won the national amateur competition a decade ago. Apparently I'm ten years from the heyday of Tochigi rugby. That'll be fun, assuming I can get there.
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