So for the past few weeks, the rugby team I've been playing with (Tokyo Gaijin) have been working their way through the ranks of a knockout competition. It's the cup-winners cup; having secured victory in the league we played in, we were entered into this competition against the best of the area. Tokyo is our area, so we're quite fortunate to play against some of the best around.
We also have to play against the referees, touch judges and instilled racism - but that just galvanises. I wonder if the locals would persist if they realised that their insistence on trying to fuck us over at every turn made us stronger? I'm fairly certain they would, hard headed by nature is a term reserved for the Japanese.
Anyway, the match we played at the weekend featured the referee from three weeks ago. Luckily, (and here is where the mis-direction comes into play) he was a touch judge. Seemingly relegated from the lofty position of pomp and importance, he was deserving of the trip he suffered at the hands of their full-back as someone was bundled into touch.
Of the game itself, the entire first forty minutes passed without a score. I hadn't eaten much prior to the game (very stupidly, my own fault) and that caused me to experience highs and lows like no other game I've played. I hit a guy one minute, only to later fall over. I passed out right there on the pitch, like so many injections or blood samplings, the tunnel-vision closed in and I went down like a sack. Luckily I was standing at full-back so none of the opposition saw, it would have been a hole immediately pounced upon by a competent team.
Anyway, I snuck a bite of someones banana at half time (to then be offered one moments later anyway) along with some chocolate and I was good to go. Except for the whole being completely knackered for ten minutes, then bouncing off the walls for ten minutes, then back to being knackered again. It was a bizarre experience. Ups and downs like I've never felt during a match.
Ultimately I came off in the 70th (ish) minute after I banged my knee. It hurt like hell at the time, and I was petrified that I'd redone an injury from three weeks ago. Now I've had time to reassess however, it seems less serious than I first thought. Ice appears to be the key, if anyone is wondering.
So the match itself. The first forty minutes were a textbook account of defending a tryline. We started brightly, with a clean break and some nice hands - the bane of the opposition defensive play was the quick off-load, something we generally excel at. Despite the opportunity, we somehow managed to balls it up and this play would come to summarise the opening half. I made a couple of breaks in the first half, and a couple in the second half, but they ultimately gained us nothing. We would knock-on, or get pushed into touch. Our conversion rate for tries versus clean breaks (by clean breaks I mean showing a clean pair of heels with only a couple of defenders to beat) hovers around the ten percent mark, which means we need to break ten times for a single try. That needs to go up, we need to convert far more clinically if we're going to win next week.
From an entirely selfish perspective, it's extremely frustrating to see that last pass go to ground when you've put the team through. It's even worse when you are the one dropping it, everyone has been there. What it does create in a positive sense, is a will to do more. If that one went down, I'll just have to do it again and get further this time. I'll do it again, but ten percent faster, get ten percent further. What might seem an initially negative reaction to the team can be positively reinforced by flipping it over - the final next week will take everyone firing on all cylinders.
We had a couple of scares in the first half, which considering the amount of time we spent on our line (we were probably staring down a barrel for about thirty minutes total) is exceptional.
The first scare came from a quick switching of attack by the opposition. They made a break down the blind that was expertly shepherded into touch by our winger. They also had prime ball on a dozen occasions, the backs were shut down quickly enough that the ball never made it out far enough for any real danger to arise.
The second scare came from a break and kick. They had a winger (who was reasonably pacey) chase down a ball with three of our players surrounding him. I assumed our players had him well marshalled, but he kicked into fifth when the ball bounced up, and the covering defence were left wondering where he went. At this point I was running full-tilt at the corner flag, trying to ward him off. I hit him with everything I had (except arms) and managed to push him into touch, just shy of the line. My head was down so I couldn't see whether he grounded it. To be fair, if he held onto the ball during the tackle I am impressed - I hit him with my best neutron bomb impression. The referee adjudged him touch bound, the day saved despite reticence on my part (assuming someone else will do my job for me) and everyone breathes somewhat easier.
I made another big hit on someone in the first half. I hit him with my chest, knocked him back and turned the ball over. Normally I wouldn't condone a chest-first tackle, but on this occasion I approached the situation from a poor angle and my zeal got the better of self-preservation. It worked out in the end, at least.
So the second half went much better. We managed to break through a few times, and the turning point came from one such break. We'd managed to get in behind them and had set a ruck about ten metres from their line. We went through a couple of phases, bringing it to five metres. Then something happened. I have no idea what, but the ball bobbled, one of our locks went for it but saw me coming up, opting to leave it (he had his back to the opposition so was in a disadvantageous position to say the least). I managed to catch it on the bounce (at least, I think it was bouncing when I got it) and everything opened up in front of me. I don't know where their defence was, I don't know why I was in the line (I was playing full-back) but I just strolled over. Anyone could have scored it, to be fair. It was a great relief for the whole team, we'd been under the hammer and unable to convert the attacks we'd manufactured up to this point. I think we just ended up grinding them down.
From a personal perspective, my second try came from a break down the wing by one of the forwards. He broke the line, off-loaded in the tackle after a couple of metres gained, giving it to our winger. He then bombed down the wing with one man to beat. I was in support (just like the Foden try at the weekend, but of course, much cooler) and he passed it inside with perfect timing. So many of these two on ones bomb when playing amateur rugby, because everyone panics. You either hit the man and pass out of the tackle, or draw him and pass before the tackler. The second option is much safer, unless you wait too long, in which case they will get an interception and will definitely score. Also, the supporting runner often tends to overrun the carrier, meaning when/if a pass is made, it ends up being forwards. This winger kept his cool, passed at the perfect moment, and I was in for an easy twenty metre stroll under the posts.
In all, I coughed up a few balls again, something that will ultimately bite me in the arse soon. I made about four clean breaks in total, none of which came to anything. I didn't miss a tackle, which is always a big objective. In all I had an indifferent game, but one that put the team forwards, rather than backwards. It certainly wasn't an all-encompassing performance by any individual, but as a team we eased past them in the second half to put 39 points on the board. That points tally was founded upon the forwards work, and one of the second rows deservedly earned man of the match.
I have no qualms about saying that every game I play, I aim for a man of the match performance. I want it every single game, and to not get it is a blow. I'll just have to try harder next time.
The final for this competition is next week, so we'll see how preparations go. I'm off to the gym in fifteen minutes to get some recovery weights in.
To end on a positive note, I passed the ball out of the back of my hand a few times, real cool like. It was pro. You had to be there.
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