Rugby Rules

In the Philippines, the word “rugby” is usually associated with glue and the tragic social issues linked to its hallucinogenic fumes. Being an art teacher, I also think of how this corrosive binder had damaged countless paintings!

So, when Bea Zobel asked Karen Santos and I to watch her son, Jaime, play with the Philippine Rugby Team in Delhi, I had some misgivings. I had never attended a match of this vigorous contact sport in my life. Eventually, I agreed to come along mostly because Delhi is a fascinating city where I had many friends.

My attitude would soon change. Much of the credit for my reorientation belongs to the team parents who graciously explained the game to me. I was told that what we were watching was rugby union as opposed to another popular version, rugby league. Patiently my teachers guided me through the assortment of moves and terms.

I would learn that one of the ways to gain points was thru a “try”. The latter involved putting down the ball on the try line at the very end of the field. Of course, the real trick here is accomplishing this while being chased by about a ton’s worth of adversaries!

Once a try had been made, the team was entitled to a “conversion” which brought additional points. This means kicking the ball above the crossbars and between the goal posts which, unlike in other field sports, were unguarded. What complicates matters is that the kick has to be done directly in front of the spot on the line where the try had taken place. If the try had been made at the far end of the line then the kicker will have to shoot the ball in at an acute angle. Imagine doing this in a stadium of noisy fans! One would need nerves of steel since spectators rooting for the other side are not above hurling a spicy invective or five. Points were also awarded for successful penalty kicks and field goals.

The most fascinating move is the “scrum” where players from the two teams link shoulders and grapple each other in a configuration resembling a turtle. The point is to push one’s opponents back while a team member tries to gain possession of the ball.

Watching all of this, one cannot help but think of Imperial Rome. I remember a film about how a famous king became successful at war when he copied Roman battle formations. One such formation involved soldiers holding up their shields at the sides and over their heads to create an impenetrable armadillo-like structure which could ram through enemy defenses. Could this have inspired the scrum? Truly it was with battle maneuvers like these that Rome hammered together its Empire. Understandably, some scholars opine that sports are really less devastating substitutes for warfare!

Among the most enlightening aspects of my athletic encounter was getting to know our rugby delegation. The Philippine Volcanoes is made up of young men from different parts of the world who all share a common Filipino heritage. They represent different walks of life: Team Captain Michael Letts is in insurance, there is a lawyer and a physician, and there is an officer of an elite squad of the British Armed Forces. Some are students.

Most of the players come from Australia but others are from the United States, Wales, England, and Italy. Only a few are presently dwelling in the Philippines. Clearly, it wasn’t one’s address which mattered. What brought the team together was the Philippine blood coursing through everyone’s veins. Looking at the roster, one sees names like de Guzman, Dacanay, and Guerra. But one also spots Morris and Holgate. This is the globalization of Filipinos in action. It is one thing to speak of our nation’s Diaspora in conferences. It is another thing to see it incarnated in players battling for the motherland’s honor on a broad green field.

The team parents who had come along impressed me with their devotion and enthusiasm. There were the Saunders who had first met in the Middle East where Marilou (who hails from Pangasinan) was a nurse and Nigel her patient. They now make their home in Australia where they have raised one daughter as well as three sons, Oliver, Matt, and Ben who are all on the team.

There were, as well, the Ugartes, Juan and Claire. Juan had actually graduated from La Salle Green Hills before moving Down Under. Their son, James, has just recently joined the team. Then there was Bea. While the game was just a jumble of athletes to me, I realized that, as a mother, the most important thing to her was that her only son was constantly in danger of serious injury. This was especially so since Jaime was nursing a wrenched shoulder. It was taking all her effort to keep calm while her offspring was being repeatedly pummeled.

Then too, as Bea’s brother, Jaime Augusto, declared: this was the first time that a family member had the privilege of representing the country in an international sports event. To top things off, Bea still had the duty of keeping her clan informed on the game’s progress. I decided to pitch in with my own amateur cell phone broadcasts when I heard that Bea’s parents back home were “on our knees, praying, and holding hands”!

I realized later that Bea wasn’t alone in her trepidation. Claire and Marilou gamely pointed out that their husbands were just as nervous. The two men were constantly hopping about, unable to stay in the same seat for very long. As Claire noted with a wink, their generous gesture to explain the various plays to me also helped pull themselves together.

Finally, there were the coaches: Matt Cullen, Expo Mejia, Jarred Hodges, Damien Raper. Of these four, only Expo is of Filipino extraction. He was born in the Philippines, migrating to Australia as a child of four. It is to him that the team members mostly attribute the development of their strong sense of discipline. It was Expo who reminded his wards to cheer their supporters in the stands.

I observed that before and after all the action there was always a huddle for group prayer. During the game, the reserve players still took time for short jogs to keep limber in case they would be called in. Though it was clear that not everyone would get to play, there were no complaints. Some of the boys even served as water bearers. This was truly a united team with very high spirits.

In the opening match, the Philippines went up against the top ranking Thais. Luckily, our athletes conquered with a score of 53 to 33. A few days later came the final round, this time against our host, India. The Indians seemed a formidable lot. They had just defeated the Chinese, 94 to zero. Yet, when I asked if we had a chance against India I got a confident answer: “Of course we’ll beat them. A Champion Team always beats a team of champions.”

There was some consolation in the fact that the Thais subsequently walloped China in the contest for third place. This signaled that the previous overwhelming triumph could really be a function of the weaknesses of the Chinese team rather than the Indians’ abilities.

To shake off my jitters I decided to make flags and posters. While working with my hastily purchased set of crayons I wondered whether I could run afoul of our National Historical Institute for my crude imitations of our national banner. I had to trust that surely the Institute would understand how we all had to pitch in for victory!

As our players ran out into the field to face India, a huge cloud of brown dust suddenly blew into the stadium. It seemed like an ominous sign. Happily, the Fates favored us that evening. We began to amass points through penalty kicks courtesy of the indefatigable Oli Saunders. For a while though, it even seemed that India was going to prevail. During one scrum they managed to push our players back onto the try line itself – an amazing display of brute strength.

Tempers invariably flared. One of our players challenged his opponents because he was getting tired of hearing his colleagues being insulted. Fortunately, it would only take a single reminder from the Philippine coach about what was at stake for the hot-headed combatant to immediately stand down.

In the end, winning required more than being strong. Strategy and solid teamwork were just as important. Wonderfully, our defenses held. Though the Indians managed to set up many critical maneuvers right in front of our try line they were usually unable to penetrate our barriers to complete their plays. In contrast, the Philippines got through on several occasions though admittedly a number of tries were unsuccessful.

In the last few minutes, the Philippines already had a comfortable lead, 34 to 12. It was just a matter of time and containing the enemy. At long last, the final bell went off.

The Filipinos had won!

Our boys were now the champions of Division 2 and were being promoted to Division 1. They were going up against the likes of Malaysia and Singapore. Who knows, they may even make it to the very top. Coming from a country with so many set-backs, every taste of victory was especially sweet! We all tumbled down to the field to join the celebration.

Much later, one of the players came up to thank me for my support. I thought this simply a courteous gesture accorded to any spectator. He went on to elaborate, however, that when the team was singing the national anthem, the official Philippine flag that had been set up in the stadium was not clearly visible. It was therefore a great source of comfort and inspiration to see our home-made versions waving in the stands!

This last bit of information made it stunningly clear. For a team that’s battling it out in the field, every little thing counts: grandparents’ prayers, a mother’s presence, a cold drink of water humbly offered. Hey, looks like even an art teacher can make a modest contribution!