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Friday, 1 February 2019

Musings of a Rugby Mum

Thoughts of a Rugby Mum

I have been a rugby mum for 21 years and can still remember the first time the boys hit the mud at the age of  5. From that day and for  the next 11 years  through the rugby season weekends  were spent  driving around the English country side, standing, screaming and agonising on the touch line followed  by being the rugby pundit in the after game discussion and then back home  to scrub kit, boots and boys!

Whilst the latter  have long been handed over to others more worthy than me  21 years on my Saturdays during the rugby season continue to be a mixture of agony and ecstasy during the 80 minutes of each game played.

You would think as the boys grew into strapping men I would worry less but no for every high tackle and injury I still want to run on the pitch, bash the perpetrator and kiss my son better - luckily for them I keep these urges to myself can you imagine if I did! Although for sure every rugby mum would doubtless cheer me on 😂

 Having two sons playing rugby for different teams proved to be a serious dilemma over the last  8 years How do you choose who to watch without upsetting the other?  I never quite solved this puzzle and can honestly say I was relieved on this score  when Tom retired this season although I do miss seeing him in action.

There are days when I am freezing cold, watching the losing side  agonising and praying for a win or seeing my son on the bench when I think what my Saturdays could have been like but then  I remind myself of the great times rugby had given us as a family.

Some of the highlights I treasure  the progression of their careers progress to such a high standard; seeing  them score  - still has me jumping up and down screaming go  Nutz  at the top of my voice
and watching the camaraderie within the teams and how they have made life long friendships.

What am I most proud of ?
Watching those two blond scraps turn into men  to be proud of moulded by the values of respect, team work, spirit, humility and ambition all learnt from the wonderful game called rugby.

Would I change anything - well apart from their battle scars and bent noses - absolutely not I would do it all again in a heartbeat.

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