Battled and bruised – A sequel

A few weeks ago I posted in the midst of my preparation for an exam and how Dude inspired me to do better and stop complaining about my shit.  He showed me what it means to never give up.

The truth is that during his trials and tribulations of trying to make the first rugby team of his high school, he basically sacrificed his own body.  Which is how rugby works.  Rugby is basically 30 guys wrestling each other for an egg shaped ball.  And unlike the wimps across the Atlantic, rugby players do so without any form of protective gear.  Wife would argue that the NFL players are intelligent human beings who are not willing to suffer a dilapidated injury in the name of sports.  But this is my blog so I can call them what I want. In the words of Yoda: “If sports you want play and padding you must wear, wimps you must be.”

Besides, as I’m posting semi-anonymous, I don’t run the risk of being called out by any NFL player. (I’m hoping)

To cut a long and painful story short, Dude injured his shoulder, bruised his leg and sprained his middle finger.  (Which severely limits his ability to communicate to assholes cutting his dad off.)  I’m assuming he was in pain, even though he never complained for more than fifteen minutes at a time.  I think he just wanted the attention because Wife was rubbing and massaging and caring and nursing like only a mother can. His determination was astonishing as he got back on that field time after time.  Albeit with increasing bandages and creams with every practice.  He viewed these minor setbacks as part of the process.  Wife wanted him to play soccer.

I kept my mouth shut because I’m a very wise man.


Looks like fun, doesn’t it?

*cutting back to me*  Even though I didn’t have any visible injury, a part from very stiff shoulders and a cramped left hand as I’m sinistral, I also had my fair share of scars from studying.  Mental ones that is.  My brain looked like a victim of a cage fight with the Rock and fifty other WWE fighters.  And not the faking type of fighting they do, the real McCoy.  Blood and guts and glass and gloves.  My brain was mash.  A better analogy would probably be that my brain looked like my body would in the event of any NFL player reading this post and finding out where I live…

Anyhow, thinking happy thoughts, the end of the story is a good one.

I wrote the exam and I think I passed, even if the jury is still out on that one.  But more importantly, Dude played his first game as part of the first rugby squad last Saturday! (Even if it was for a mere 15 minutes)

And I couldn’t be more proud.  I was as giddy as a nun in a carrot truck.  

It really is true what they say…never ever ever give up. 



5 thoughts on “Battled and bruised – A sequel

  1. Congrats to the men of house! I wouldn’t worry about those NFL players coming to get you. They’ve had so many knocks to the head they don’t even understand that they were insulted. I remember playing rugby in University. Love it. It was like soccer on steroids!

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