Winning is Easy (WARNING: Many colorfull colloquialisms to follow, read at Yee own peril)

I have played this sport for a considerable amount of time and it has been the hub of my life for close to 20 years. Both as player and coach I have spent much time in the seeking out the things, the tools and knowledge needed to win in rugby. Last night I was talking to an old friend who may have been one of the smartest players and gifted athletes Southern California rugby has ever seen (unfortunately he fell pray to glass knees and a wicked addiction to very dirty marijuana but that’s a different story). We were laughing because we knew something that it seems many who should do not. It is something that contributes to countless failures in this sport. This is a simple game and to win, one need only to follow this simple philosophy. It is something that I was reminded of playing against Riverside a few weeks back and it is something I was reminded of in witnessing the atrocities of last Tuesday’s practice. Successful teams, at any level including Super League, Super 14, Heineken Cup, World Cup and even good old Southern California all have something in common. They embrace the following simple truth and it is literally all you need to win at rugby at almost any level. It has been my mantra for years and every failure this team or any team in the past has experienced has been directly related to a failure to embrace and execute these two fundamental concepts. Conversely, all of the success we have had has been directly correlated to acceptance and execution said philosophy. Embrace these truths and win, neglect them and fail. It is that simple. They are the cornerstone of everything that happens on the pitch. Without these, nothing good can happen for you. You are fucked and fucked hard without so much as a thank you and a pat on the ass. Ready? OK, listen… this is going to shock you… here goes… Fitness and Possession. That’s it. There I said it. What, too simple for you simpleton? Keen intellect and a fundimental understanding of logic has rarely been the hallmark of a rugby players so I’ll help you out.

Fitness.
This is perhaps the easiest concept to understand and achieve. First rugby is a physical sport… not like baseball or golf or betting on pony’s, but an actual physical sport. It may require a certain amount of generalized intelligence, agility and strength but not much. It does however require a fuck load of fitness. If you can’t run to where you need to be, it doesn’t matter how smart or strong or agile you are, you can’t get there… period. You are worthless as a player. You are dead weight and a liability for your team mates. You quite simply, suck and I am pretty sure that petrified ostrich testacies slunfg around the neks of one legged pigmeys have more street value than an unfit rugby player unable to get around the field... I'm not sure exactly how that works but but trust me, it's true. Here’s the key, it’s not just about getting there once, but getting there all the time, every time. That’s 80 minutes chief. Where on the rugby pitch is there? Easy. There is everywhere. Too esoteric? I forgot about the whole aptitude thing. In rugby everywhere means in support of your players and/or at the breakdown… wait that’s still too much. I’ll make it easier. Everywhere is where the ball was, where it is and where it’s will be. I don’t care if you are a forward or a back because everyone has the same role- get the ball, keep the ball, score, win, (drink). Without fitness, you just can not play this game and expect any level of success. Look, it’s a great sport and there is no reason you can’t enjoy the sport… from the sideline you apathetic fat slow fuck. Too harsh? No problem, just get your chubby shit in shape. The good news it that it’s easy and it’s cheap. No gym membership or trainer needed and here is how. Ready? This is going to change your soft pathetic life. You are going to be The Man, no more bed wetting, women will love you and your neighbors make awkward conversation in a feeble attempt to get close enough to get drunk off the scent of your musk. (Then you will peer at them from behind a black eye and mention something awkward about their daughter and.. well hopefully... never mind) Back on track, get in shape... here goes... ready? Now- start running in one direction for 40 minutes. Stop, turn around. Run back. End. Repeat 2-3 times a week. Done. Well maybe not done but you are well on your way. Too much? No problem, but don’t get pissed off when you loose rugby matches and your best friends start banging your girlfriend and when it happens I am going to point at you and laugh. Fitness is the easiest thing to build. You don’t need to be smart, you just have to be determined and willing to take some pain in order to give it back.

Possession
Perhaps seemingly the more complicated of the two but here is some simple math that should be relatively easy for you to understand because the gods know I am a bad speller. We here at The 2nd Row call it Angelicas Theorem of Posessional Averages for Statistical Understanding of Kicking the Shit our of Rugby teams (rugby historians will note the addition of the Kingston Statistical Law of Winning which can also be applied to accumulation of free pitchers of beer and large screen TV's but that is a different story). Here it is: If (1) in order to win at rugby you have to score more points than your opposition and (2) in order to score you need to be in possession of the ball, therefore (3) if you hold onto the ball longer than your opposition, you have a better chance at scoring more than him. That’s it. Too simple, too complicated? No problem I understand your mental dearth, that’s why I’m here to help.

Lets break it down another way, and I know you have heard this before. Angelica's Basic Rule of Possession was developed over many season's of numbers crunching, much cussing and breaking of clip boards. It follows: (1) When you have the ball, keep the fucking ball (offense) and (2) when you don’t have the ball, get the fucking ball (defense). Still struggling? Sigh…. OK, no problem. First things first.

Keep the fucking ball (offense)
Offensively possession is maintained in 2 areas- at the breakdown and in open field play… which is to say, and we are back to this again, possession has to be maintained everywhere but before we go everywhere lets start… uhh…. somewhere.

Possession has to be mastered at the most basic level and that is at the break-down. First how to hold onto the ball. Unlike the soft-cock sports of American Football and Rugby League, in Rugby Union possession of the ball is not conceded at the tackle which means that as a ball carrier and as a support player you have to do your part to make sure your team keeps the ball because some other group of ass holes you don’t like wants that ball too. Come in hard and ready to maintain possession. Our team of research assistance here at The Front Row have done extensive research and they tell us that your best bet to maintain possession whenever coming into contact is to keep the ball in your back hand (actually tucked under your shoulder nuzzled into your chest which we have demonstrated an infinite number of times). There may be one or 2 moderations but for the novice to semi-pro this is without a doubt the best chance to hold onto and control the ball. As you come into contact either knock the defender back and keep your feet or knock him back and control the ball as you hit the deck… and be ready for a fight. This is the first component and action required to maintain possession at the breakdown but as rugby is a game of team work, successful possession requires another component- a support player to secure the possession. So (1) the ball carrier knocks the shit out of the defender to putt him back on his heels while either on his feet or on the deck offers the supporting player clean ball and then (2) the supporting player comes in to clean and secure possession. remember, the possession is not secure until that support player does his job. Now this is where you will get some debate and I am here to tell you that if anyone tells you the contrary to what I am about to tell you, they are a fucking idiot (and probably a back who had a glorious career of numerous turnovers due to their inability to present or secure ball properly). I’ve seen this done many different ways and what I am about to tell you my friend is the One True Way. Ready? OK, if the ball carrier keeps his feet, the support player ALWAYS RIPS, no matter what. Forget about binding on and setting a platform because it’s not going to matter if possession isn’t secure… and the best way to secure possession is to rip… immediately…. period. It also offers an infinite number of possibilities (setting the driving maul anyone?) but that’s a lesson for another day. So lets review. Ball carrier takes the ball into contact, keeps his feet and presents the ball, second man in rips. Again…. second man rips. What is the supporting player going to do? Bind on and set the platform? No douche bag, he rips to secure possession. What if the ball carrier goes to the ground? Easy, blow the defender off. Bingo, there you have it. That is how to maintain possession at the breakdown. other things need to happen next but without these 2 players securing possession, there is no ruck, there is no maul, there is nothing except loosing possession, running backwards and being forced to tell all of your friends the next day how you shamefully contributed to the loss of the match. You are fucked… it’s over and I’m not even going to explain how or why any more. Trust me. But should you choose to learn something here, you will do your job and maintain possession. Again from there it’s up to the additional support players to add to what you have created in various forms of rucking and mauling but we’ll deal with that later. First things first and that's to secure possession at the break down.


So, you have secured and maintained possession at the breakdown, how else do you secure possession offensively? In the open field play and this is easy. It’s so easy even Sloan can understand with those giant Aye-Aye ears of his. Ready? It’s another mind blower… Here goes: Don’t drop the ball. What, what?! How you say? Don't drop the ball man, that's it. Not enough, here it is in two steps.

Step 1 Passing: look before you pass.
Here’s a question for you Chuck, do you know who couldn’t pass a rugby ball for shit? Ray Charles bitch. Dude sucked at it. Do you know why? That’s right, because he was black wait… no because he was blind. Helen Keller couldn’t pass for shit either because she was a woman... and also blind. At this point I‘d like to toss in some more inappropriate slander but I think you get my point.

Step 2 Receiving: hold your hands up, fingers toward the sky and catch the ball.
I see guys all the time during Queensland lines or the 4 corners drill running with their hand at their sides and it drives me up the wall. How the fuck you are suppose to catch the ball with your hands by your side? It defies physics. Do you know who can’t catch a rugby ball? Un-wed single-mother Jewish double arm amputees. Hands out chief, give the passer a chance and give them a target. Screaming for the ball at the top of your lungs also helps motivate the passer to look at you for the pass. It helped Ray Charles… not Helen though. Still a chick after all. Point here is do not be apathetic, put your hands up, get ready for it and give the passer and yourself a chance. Almost done and onto the second half of possession-

Don’t have the ball, get the fucking ball (Defense)
This is the easiest. The best defense is a strong offense but I’ll save all the cryptic esoteric talk. Here it is. So there you are on the rugby pitch and some dick who is not wearing your matching jersey has the rugby ball and you are thinking to yourself, what next. Here you go. Tackle him and take it from him. Bingo. That’s it. How? Look, there are many ways you can tackle some ass face running with the ball but if you can’t get your hand on him, make sure as fuck you and your team mates are up in his grill freaking his shit out so he makes bad mistakes and shits his compression shorts while making bad passes which you will inevitably pick up and, of course, keep until you score. This is where that fitness thing is really going to pay off for you but more or less that’s it. You are welcome.

So let’s review:

1. Fitness
2. Possession

Questions? Great. Oh yah, the kicking and the whole possession thing. I got in this debate the other week and this may be getting ahead of ourselves (Lesson 2: Things to think about once you have mastered F&P) but I am of the firm belief that the ball should never be run out of anywhere behind say our 15 meter mark and in turn should be kicked into the attacking zones to relieve pressure and put the other team back on their heels. The argument against my militant stance was “why kick it away and loose possession”. Here’s my answer and it’s simple especially for those paying attention to the above. Who said anything about loosing possession? Fitness chief. We kick it, we recover it. Remember, fitness means we have the ability to be everywhere... everywhere... AT WILL. Of course this is predicated on one’s ability to possess a reliable kicker which is somewhere around Lesson 3. However even with the best kicker in the planet and the fastest center , the strongest hooker, 10 coaches for every player and a play book larger than the Wally’s waste line, unless your team (and that means 1-15) has a strong core of superior fitness and the ability to maintain possession, noting else matters.... nothing.


Not only have I just told you how to win at rugby and bang your buddies girlfriend, you also get this gem….


Sloan Celebrity Look-alike #9 & 10



Sloan




Gargamel








Ed Grimely

Welcome to The Vortex

Typically I leave the hate to others in order to focus my inner rage on local doushbaggery like guys who skip out on fitness, linger on the side of break downs or have the inability to pour a beer without a massive head of foam. If you play rugby for as long as I have in Southern California you too will find that all of our opposition are more or less the same and thus deserve an equal amount of loathing and distain. Sure there are some clubs who have individual players I enjoy including even Eagle Rock, but in the end it is their sum that I contempt. My reasoning is this. We are coached and train to play our game: hard, methodical and disciplined rugby. It doesn’t matter the color of the jersey we are running against. They are an obstacle to our goal of completing a season of control and domination. I now do not care if some clubs are more chirpy than others or if some clubs have certain styles of play or certain players who stand out. My rugby heart is an apathetic cold dark vortex of abhorrence and revulsion. It feeds on the progeny of poor sportsmanship and it swallows those destitute in in respect for the game of rugby, it's laws and it's values. Alas it has not always been so...

I have been guilty of sweet talking other players for much of my rugby playing career. When I started playing rugby the sport was very social and I developed a style that had in turn been very social. I would talk to other guys on the bottom of rucks and make light remarks in heavy competition. It is no secret that my favorite day of the year is Maggot Feast Sunday as for me this day is an amalgamation of all of the things I enjoy from the sport; which is to a large degree is social in nature. I believe that in order to play rugby and to respect the core values of the sport, one should possess a certain amount of gentility. For me this has been demonstrated through always welcoming and treating my opposition as a comrade on the pitch, perhaps over that of a competitor. To offer them an olive branch of respect in this common bond we share as rugby players.

Our club possesses much of the virtue in gentility that many if not most clubs in S. Cal do not. We respect and uphold the core values of the sport- sportsmanship, tenacity and support of each other in the face of adiversity in order to achieve our goals, respect of ourselves, each other, match officials, and the laws of the game. This is what attracted me to this club and to a large degree it is what has gotten me to stick around for 10+ years. However over the years I have been jaded by doushbaggery and doltishness which has instilled an internal disgust for much of our opposition. Where we play to the virtues of the sport, many do not and there are a certain few who seem to go to great extremes to take advantage of this. For those of you new to the game or this division, I can tell you that SLO is amongst the largest contributors to this sin of contempt and disrespect. For this they should hold amongst the highest ranking in the Annal of Filth of Humanity. Here is some history.

It is well known that Pasadena Rugby has a long history of opening our arms to many and actively seek those who share our desire and pursuit of the virtues that represent this sport as stated above. A more recent example is Beaumont Rugby. Although we were competitors on the pitch, we offered them encouragement and offered assistance to improve their game. We were gentlemen to them and in turn they were gentlemen to us. They seemed to be genuinely appreciative of our efforts to assist them in becoming a better club.

There once was a time when we held SLO as a sister club in similar ways we have enjoyed a close relationship to the Bucks in recent years. The Club would charge up on a Bus, SLO would in turn rally with a spirited, clean and hard fought match and then throw us one of the most kick ass parties seen in SCRFU. In turn we offered them clean competition, often at the financial expense of our own club members. We provided them free entry into our tournaments and always went out of our way to make sure they were welcomed wherever a Pasadena player may be found. This has changed. As our hand was outstretched in the open hand of sportsmanship, they took a cheap swing as. A few years back while playing up at SLO Mark Frazier tore his Achilles (completely snapped it behind his knee). They laughed. A short while later one of our players (Will Osbourne) suffered a head injury and was convulsing for 10 minutes (also suffered a fractured arm and torn shoulder). Except for the shirtless self described “male nurse” who had a crush on Mike Aston, they didn’t lift a finger to help. These guys wiped Ciampa’s nose across his face and ended his rugby career. A few years back we traveled over 5 hours in traffic to beat them handily in 2 periods. They requested a 3rd period for the 2nds, we subbed out everyone and lost the 3rd period but they publicized (widely) that they trounced us. Then they made us wait around for over an hour before tapping the warm keg of beer. They laughed when our fly-half was knocked out and they took a cheap swing at our full-back after the final whistle had been blown. They throw punches in rucks, they kill the ball, they heckle injured players. They have a loathing contempt for every rugby value that we sweat and work hard to preserve. They do not respect the sport of rugby, its laws or it's values and they sure as fuck don’t respect us.

This weekend I should thank the members of SLO Rugby for darkening my heart and making me a better rugby player. Because they have slapped our club in the face so times, I no longer come bearing the olive branch of warm competition. I come ready to bleed on them and laugh my frigg'n ass off when they turn on each other like rabid cannibals. Because of their brand if ass hat doushbaggery I no longer sweet talk players. I am completely numb to it. Friend or foe, fuck them all the same. The other night we ran our asses off for 120 minutes and last night as I hobbled through the soreness to complete my Wednesday run, I was driven by the dedication to contribute to my teammates success in controlled domination and pure rage for those who do not possess our work ethic and respect of The Game. Their brand of rugby revolts me and these back woods hicks are a worse brand of rugby vermin than the dirt bags out in Riverside or Kern or Sun Valley or where ever. Those teams may cheat and be classless dirt bags, but at least they don't shit down the neck of guys who come in amity. Their only contribution to the sport is to reinforce the negative press that many of us have dedicated our careers to overcome in order that the sport may flourish in this country. These red neck horse fuckers got more than they deserve just in the time I spent typing this post. Fuck...

In other news, congratulations to Aaron tanner for his nomination to USA Rugby Hall of Fame.

Billy Love Has Still Got It

I like to tell the story of when I first played with Billy. Before the match he was duct-taping egg crate around his waste and jamming insolite padding into his jersey on-top of his shoulders. That was 1997, Billy was 25 years old. Life's been rough for Billy and it looks like he was up to his old tricks this weekend at the Old Boys match.

Could be his uncanny resemblance to Charles Manson, or maybe it's the stripped jersey but Billy looks like an escaped con. At least he didn't start a fight with the ref... again.

In my 10+ years with the Club I've seen Billy Love retire from rugby and come back at least 3 times and each time he got better and better. The last season as Pasadena's #9, Billy was truly amazing to watch. Then at the age of 72 he was able to effortlessly make it to every breakdown without the use of his walker yet still deliver a quick clean ball to the Fly. After watching Billy play this last weekend I wondered why, oh why god do they not make them like this any more. Billy has spent more time in the Sin Bin than is the age of 1/2 of the players on the Warlords... which is a good place to be if you are the starting half-back. Note that he also has the ability to wear compression shorts like parachute pants. Come back to us Billy, we need you now more than ever

Saturday was a great mix of young and very old. Here we see Pasadena Rookie Luke Hornblower attempt the ill advised 2 finger tackle to bring down Mike Aston.

One time in a 7's match against Godzilla (an all Japanese 7's side) we saw 5 guys all hanging onto Aston not much unlike a pack of jackals trying to take down a water buffalo. It looked a little like this

Aaron Tanner: "Hey Harry, man I haven't seen you since the time you punched that chick on the pub crawl and my wife was given a subpoena... good times man, good times.

As was pointed out to the new members of the club, one day if you are lucky you too will be an Old Boy just like Chris Stellern

For more pictures from the Old Boy's match, check out the link above.

Ledgend, a True Story

This month’s Legend on my sister page goes to the well deserving Aaron Tanner who I am sure was begrudgingly coaxed into it by Doc. Aaron is many things, vein and pompous are not one of those, save the topic of his long flowing hair which he seems to have the magical ability to grow on command. One day he is clean shaven, 2 days later he has a beard down to his navel. Odd, but TRUE. For a while I had lofty ambitions of getting something together for Aaron and posting it here but alas I am a lazy sot, as one can easily surmise both from the content of my postings as well as the inexplicable consistency in which they are updated (heads up Sloan, #9 coming your way). Thanks to Doc for getting this rolling.

The write up was drafted by Doc based on feedback from Aaron. Now Michael Bryant is a great many things; son, brother, doctor, businessman, mentor, and as honest and true friend as any of us could hope to be. He has saved countless lives, both literally and figuratively. He is inspiring and a mentor to many including his peers and colleagues which truly speaks volumes given the quality of company he keeps (outside of the rugby community of course). He is a true gentleman, a sharp dresser, a malicious groomer (gets his hair “cut” every week) and he once spent 7.8 million dollars to completely tear down his house only to re-build it exactly as it was only much cleaner- TRUE story. However with as many attributes this man has both been gifted with and has strived to achieve over his diverse life, comic wit and an appreciation of satire can not be counted amongst them. In fact there are some reading this now who are probably chuckling, and I hope most are… but I assure you Michael is staring blankly at his screen wondering why I am being so callous. Alas Mr. Frog, it is in my nature. My point is that in reading Michael’s tribute to Aaron, I was struck by a few things. First and foremost, what is it with Tanner and fellatio? Second, although inspiring, the write up read like… well like it was written by a doctor. Now in full disclosure Michael sought feedback from many of the staff here at The 2nd Row, but I declined the offer to edit his bibliographical tribute so that I may again demonstrate ill judgment and in turn draft my unabridged re-imagining of the same. Enjoy.

This month’s Legend is Aaron Tanner. Thought he probably preferred to be interviewed by those not prone to slander, inappropriate innuendo, grammatical errors and loose interpretation of fact, history will not judge him harshly. We here at The 2nd Row all agree, what better way to start off the regular season than by saluting one of our own elder statesmen. Tanner has been with the club, according to my calendar, since roughly 1938 shortly after I invented the Internet in my post doctoral work at MIT. In a move could considered statutory rape in California, Aaron married his high school sweetheart Lisa. Avoiding the whole awkwardness of court proceedings, they actually got married just out of college… which is still a little creepy unless you are from the Mid-west. Lisa is also 6’19” and is more fit than 98% of the fattys that are reading this right now. One time after finishing a race together and after realizing the dearth of his own athletic ability compared to Lisa Tanner, our own Greg Smith rolled up into a ball and wept. Then in a fit of rage he beat the hell out of a homeless guy and shaved his eye brows. Weird. Aaron and Lisa have a daughter Aubrey who will probably be raised with the keen street smarts needed to avoid dates with any children of the Club… except maybe Quinn Frazier who already outweighs his father by 78 lbs.

Aaron is 36 which is older than me but WAY younger than Doc Bryant who is actually 67. The black men age well which is why Doc Smookler looks like he's 12. Aaron's godfather is Joe Wilson. Aaron is the youngest of 4 children which explains his diva like persona, and may also have something to do with the fact that his parents are older than mine. Aaron went to William Hart High School which is the sworn and avowed enemy of our very own Arroyo Academy Rugby (coached by John-John). Harte is the Kern County of high school rugby and you hate Kern which means you should also hate Aaron in some small way. Aaron grew up in Valencia or Saugus or Victorville or somewhere up there in the valley of dirt. That was in the 80’s and they had just gotten hot water up there in those parts which explains why Aaron loves to take long hot showers on blistery days. He admits to being awkward as a youth and says it took a while for him to “grow into his body”. Aaron has been this same height since the 7th grade but he use to weigh 160 lbs. I felt awkward even looking at pictures of him back then which explains why he congregated to a sports known for attracting freaks- volleyball… and *GASP* golf. I don’t know, I dated a volleyball player once and she had a nice rack but she could kick the not out of most guys which is when I developed the life tenet to never date a girl with arms bigger than mine which was challenging because I don’t have big arms. This really has nothing to do with Aaron but that girl really did have a nice rack. Anyway, Aaron was mentored by Coach Ken Stanley while at Pierce Junior College who, amongst making him wear those shorts, taught Aaron the importance of performing to the highest degree of excellence. Coach Stanley helped instill in Aaron the many virtues needed to be a good person… none of which you will find here reading any of this. Get back to work.

Aaron then went on to attend Cal State Northridge where he received a B.A. in Communicative Disorders. It seems like I could put something funny in here but there’s nothing funny about stuttering and stammering children, in fact they creep the shit out of me. I once played rugby with a guy in college who stuttered. His name was P..P..P..Perry form P..P..P..Peru. Honestly, in the game he’s call for the “B…B…B..Ball and it was annoying as all hell. I have no tolerance for the gimp tong. So we taught him how to get good and drunk and he turned into William Shakespeare, fucking changed his life. Cured. See, I figured that shit out and I don’t even have a degree in Communicative Disorders. Done, the Doctor will see you now.

When Michael asked him about his most embarrassing moment, Tanner recounted a story about lip-syncing “Macho Man” with his best friend Terry MacLean, playing the role of the soldier. To me the most unnerving part of the story is trying to picture Terry dressed as a solder and frankly that scares the shit out of me. One year we had a toga party and people, as you would expect, came dressed in togas. Terry came in a bath towel wrapped around his waste. One time someone had committed the Greatest Sin In Rugby by bringing a woman on the bus to SLO. Everyone knew it was a bad idea and about ½ way back form SLO the bus when we were well and wasted, I figured I would work my charm and magical wit to get the “woman” to undress. Before she could finish the sentence “you first”, Terry was standing in the isle right behind her buck ass naked. It was awesome and akward but not as awkward as when we did get her top off… at which point everyone tried very hard to get her to put it back on. Another time on a bus trip from SLO Tanner sung the whole way... 3 hours. He stopped singing actual rugby songs about 20 minutes down and pretty soon he sang whatever came across his mind- a tree, a guy puking, a blue car, whatever. He was hoarse by the time we hit Pasadena. It was a horrible trip. At any rate Tanners other embarrassing moment had something to do with fellatio but that is probably enough cock and balls for one blog posting... maybe.

As I stated, Aaron Tanner started playing rugby way back in 1872 shortly after I had invented fire. Apparently Terry was keen to play and played with Cal Tech but after playing with the world’s fattest fly-half, he decided, without knowing what a fat fly-half was, that he shouldn't play with Cal Tech. He also met the world’s slowest NCAA basket ball player but that is a story for a different blog. So my wife tells me her boss wants to play rugby. Instantly I know this to be a bad idea… I mean… well if I have to explain myself here then stick around the club, any club for that matter, and you’ll appreciate the concern. But what am I going to do, we always needed new players and I know those volleyball players can set a mean spike? Whatever. It took Aaron a while to find us as was the test we forced all rookies to go through. Only the truly tenacious and pure of heart who would come to at least 2 rumored practicees only to find darkness and 2 rumored matches only to find soccer, would be allowed to enter the hallowed halls of rugby purity and virtue known as Pasadena RFC. You have to WANT IT… that and we mostly got kicked off fields and had to pirate our way around thanks to the lack luster efforts of the infamous do-nothing Jim Ciampa. After Aaron’s first practice we headed over to The John Bull which was our home pub at the time. We began tossing down pints and started to singing (and there was probably a fair amount of nudity and bravado and possibly break dancing as was customarily in the day). One of the Bull frequenters was this clearly underage frail little re-head who was enjoying a private evening with friends. We were all singing and this little 20-year-old in a training bra silently made her way up to the bar for another wine cooler and BAM, Aaron corners her like a lion pouncing on a wounded baby gazel and belts his own verse of “London Bridge” which I am pretty sure had something to do with nipple twisting. It was awkward and there was silence. Aaron was looking at our stunned faces in the aftermath and was thinking “Man, I screwed this up and I was just having fun”. Of course we were thinking “Holy crap, this guy is fucking sweet”. Apparently Aaron’s first game was when the club played Kern County. This was not a pretty match because those guys are dirt bags and kicked the crap out of us on a field that was strewn wuith rocks, broken bottels and used dope needles (Victory Park circa 1999) but he came back. Then our coach took a giant crap in his house and they had to move out for 2 days. But again he came back. We had our own brand of Kool-Aid back then but it tasted more like free beer at the John Bull.

Judging by his size, Aaron could only play 1 position, in much the same manner most of our forwards will never be issued visas to leave Propsville USA... and some need to consider leaving Flanker Town to return home to the prop farm. Aaron played 8-man on and off for a season. He will tell you it’s because we were short on numbers and he was the man fittest for the job. In truth Big Dumb Patrick was also playing for us and, well he was MUCH better at 2nd row plus Patrick had this killer mustache he liked to die black (note he was a red head) . If you ever wonder what happened to our goal post pads, Big Dumb Patrick wrestled it out from under a truck load of Mexicans in the fast lane of the 210 and then proceeded to grease it down with Murphy’s Oil while riding it bare back. I really don’t’ know what that has to do with anything but if you’ve made it this far then consider it a gift.

Amongst Aaron’s most memorable moments was the Clubs victory over Kern County in 2005. Not only had Kern County had dominated Division III rugby for the previous 2 seasons and had not lost a game in over two years in the SCRFU, Pasadena RFC had not beaten Kern in the decade prior. It was a hard fought match and the victory sealed by an up and under recovered for a 60 meter dash by High Pitch Rich (Action shots of HPR are found below). Also sweetening the victory was that this was Aaron’s last year as President. Looking back I think this was the point where the tide started to rise. This was due in part to the right people coming into the club at the right time but also because largely in part to a number of guys who dug in to re-build through the difficult years and were lead by the tall guy with the hot wife who made Greg Smith rape a homless man.

Aaron has served as a leader on and off the pitch for Pasadena RFC. Aaron was elected President twice although he fulfilled the all duties of the president for 3 seasons. What? Yah that’s right. The year of “leadership” under Allen Rooney really consisted of Aaron as VP doing everything the President does and telling Allen about it later. It’s a long story but it all worked out in the end . When asked about the challenges he faced as President, Aaron recounts that Pasadena had become a very social club early in his tenure. The fact is that we have always been very social and to a large degree that is what sets this club apart; it’s just that we stopped doing a lot of the winning part that should come with being on any team and that for some this didn't seem to bother them. In his last year as President, in one great act Aaron started a catalyst of events that would be both celebrated and scorned. With the assistance of Dean, Aaron secured the clubs largest cash sponsor to date, Hooters. There were a few caveats however. 1. The Club had to patronize Hooters. Sounds great except that beers still cost $30 and… well the local patrons of Hooters aren’t… well they just suck. Fucking meat heads. 2. The Club had sold the sponsorship as a jersey sponsorship and thus the Club’s new jerseys were not only the wrong color (Black) but also in blazing orange colors was the tag of a sexist meat head. Yah, check us out, we go to Hooters. Hey ladies call us, we party. It was a great idea and tremendous effort gone horribly awry. Except for the jersey color and "lame guy" tag, no one could fault him because like so many that have built this club, something needed to get done and Tanner dug in to get it done. Ultimately Aaron wanted a team with “grass roots” efforts by the members to build a better club. He wanted a club that was financially solvent and moving forward with a clear direction and purpose rather than the status quo of another season kicking around drinking beer and playing rugby. Well Aaron got what he asked for…. just as soon as he stopped being President.

With the benefit if not having the day to day operations and administrative headache to deal with, Aaron was able to take some time and put 2 programs together that have ultimately help contribute significantly to the successes the Club now enjoys. The first was to put together a fundraising panel (eventually chaired by Doc Bryant) which put us on our road to financial solvency but also paved the way for the second program which was to seek out and hire a paid coach. Although it hit some bumps in road in the end both programs were supported by other members and Tanner was the catalyst to a process that now has produced a network of administrators and support structure only dreamed of by past members and other clubs in higher levels of competition. Where when he joined this Club, we were run and administered by 1-2 guys, through his involvement and leadership the club now has a network of at least 10+ administrators and many more willing to jump in and help. Dude… we are even coming out with a Mission Statement. What the fuck. God I hope the Bucks will have me next season.

When asked about future challenges facing the club, Aaron drew a metaphor of a new freshman on campus. I hope that means awkward blow jobs behind the bleachers by 14 year old's… wait… what? Aaron goes on to address the challenges of fielding a successful D2 team in that it is more than paying your dues and showing up and something something hard work something something more players need to step forward something something… something. But there is no further mention of fellatio… which I’m OK with because this was going in a weird direction.

In reviewing his favorite rugby players Aaron lists Chris Angelica and Mike Aston as the mentors for his position. When asked about this, Mike Aston said he had neither the words of gratitude nor the vocabulary that would adequately describe his reverence and respect for being placed as mentor next to one of this teams true rugby greats and he was grateful to Aaron for realizing the true inspirational and hard nose play demonstrated by Angelica both on and off the field. When asked for his comment Angelica merely restated his hatred for math and chicks with small tits. Aaron also goes on to list a number of players that make up the Pantheon of Pasadena Greats including Alastair Blevins, Tim Riesen, Allen Rooney, Mark Frazier Keegan Hornbeck , Tyler Shriek and Jake Pike. With the exception of Tyler and Jake, he points out that all of these men work hard on the field which makes you want to ensure that you work just as hard to be there in support of them and not disappoint. He also wonders “What the fuck is up with Joaquin’s eye-brow? That thing really creeps the shit out of me.” Finally when asked what advice he would offer to those new to the game, Aaron says simply: “Buy Angelica and Rooney beer and they will go away and leave you alone… until they are thirsty again. But it’s worth it to keep them at bay.”

Here are some things you may not know about Aaron. Aaron is mostly a chick in almost every way but is dressed up to look like a guy. He loves to go shopping and is addicted to McDonalds which he eats 19 times a week. He also enjoys “wood working” as a hobby. He once fell in love with a stripper named “The Tyler”. One of these is not true… maybe.

As a parting thought Aaron added that he and many other members of the Pasadena veterans all do things in their own “unique” ways to support the club, and would enjoy an occasional unsolicited “thank you.” So the next time some crusty old guy cuts you down and berates you for being slow, stupid and as attractive as Sloan on a 7 day binder with mad case of herpes, a simple “Thanks man” would really be nice. Aaron remembers when things were difficult for the Club; we were happy when we could run on a 20m x 20m patch of “grass” with ambient light from the street to use as our stadium lights, the bank account was flush when we had $17.83 mid way through the season, typical practice was 7 – 10 players and no one was buying Rooney and Angelica beer. Nevertheless, there were a faithful few who saw the team through those lean times. We frequently closed the pub on Thursday and carried our own cardboard in case the need to break dance arose. Win or loose, and at times it was mostly loosing, a number of us dug in and like a dysfunctional family we supported each other regardless of the difficulties. We knew that in time we would build the club into what we knew it needed and could be. Aaron is hopeful that those new to the team appreciate the journey to date and are equally willing to weather adversity, should it come, to build upon the team’s history. Then he goes on the talk about more fellatio but at this time I stopped reading. Boobies.

The End