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| Stories about the Helena All-Blues | |||||||||||||||||||
| An Idiot Brother playing 7s in Montana....a dissertation on losing, but having fun | Democracy Days....the Flathead Lake CanAm event | ||||||||||||||||||
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It was 1994. I wanted to play a bit more rugby with my buddy Rob before I left Montana to attend Graduate School in Washington, DC. I wasn't sure if I would be able to play rugby after that summer so we disappeared every weekend playing a mystical game often seen in enchanted forests. This game does not usually allow the Giants of land play. This game is usually reserved for the fairies and brownies in the world. But this was my last shot at rugby. My club had hosted the State Tournament and with limited new players out the seasons prior, recruiting became a priority. I convinced the teams forefathers to allow me to build a team using the 7s season and gain more players. It worked. Rob and I started contacting 15s players we knew, to get the base 7 we needed to play 7s. Sean, my hooker and IB #6, to play. We then got a few of the backs that played 15s. The old timers said they were unable to play due to requirements on the golf courses. So we had 10 veterans of 15s. We then started recruiting. We found our foreign exchange students key in this respect. Stas and Oleg, 2 Russian exchange students took the challenge of playing Rugby. Both fantastic athletes, they fared well in the game of Rugby. We also picked up Yoji, the Japanese Scrum half that just transferred to the US. His Kamikaze skills and 2 pack of cigarette a day habit would keep us in stitches all summer). We played a 7s match vs the COBRAs (City of Bozeman Rugby Assn.) and lost most matches, but one a couple. Both Stas and Oleg scored tries that day. We went out that night and partied hard. The Russians brought their lovely Russian women, who were a huge hit in their tiny bikinis (we partied out by the lake.) Our next match was Dutton Days 7s. Dutton is a small cow town in central Montana. Population, about 550. A couple of Dutton graduates went to college, found rugby and throw a tournament each year on their cities "Founder Day" festival. For 3 days, the town has parades, street dances, fireworks, and cheap beer. And each Saturday, most of the town would fill the small High school stadium and watch rugby. They had no clue what they were watching, but they cheered. It was lots of fun. Well, we brought the Russians and Yoji to this cow town party. Our numbers were down severely. WE had 6 and one was to join us the next day (Saturday). So we partied Friday night hard. Yoji got very drunk and decided he would sleep in the middle of the street. During the street dance. After the dance ended and everyone started going back to their tents, we found Yoji passed out on the street.....nearly stomped to death...damn country line dances. WE helped him to his feet...he threw up, but saved his cigarette and relit it and walked with us. He was not in the mood to play rugby the next day. We played in front of a big crowd the next day and lost all of our matches. A new recruit we picked up, Mike Moe, IB 51, scored his first try in his first game. After the matches, we all found ourselves wandering back towards the bars for beer. We met a few local girls, watched the fireworks, drank a lot more beer and sang rugby songs on stage at one of the bars. We also met a group of Kiwis travelling across country who were trying to tell us That League is a much superior sport than Union. I stole the bands tamberine that night and was annoying everyone around my tent by pounding on it all night. In the morning, Jim Lessig IB 52 was pounding on it as he was driving away from the camp site.....I saw him disappear around the corner and that was the last I ever saw of my tamberine, not the man....Jim was around all summer and years later at Maggotfest when I was with the Highlanders. The final story about 7s rugby was an intersting mix of Friday night drinking and silly Saturday rugby. We left for Billings for the Big Sky State Rugby games. We lied to our club President and told him we had 8 guys travelling. Really, we had 3. We wanted one last party and figured if worse came to worse, we could find whores or not play at all. We arrived in Billings around 8 pm and went directly to Magoos, the Billings Bulls home. We ran into most of the rugby guys we saw all year there. Lessig, while he played for COBRAs, his home town was Billings and he agreed to let us camp in his mothers yard. We drank and drank and drank all night long. Before too long it was getting very late. I remember telling Mike and Rob to come back for me and then sitting talking to a bunch of people. Well last call came and went. I was standing in front of the bar with a full pitcher of beer and no ride. So there I am, A pitcher of beer and $3 to my name. I wondered aimlessly (somehow in the right direction) until I reached some generic 7/11 (Suzee's Quickie Mart and Pump). I startled the pimply faced kid at the register, who was not prepared to see a drunk prop at 3 AM carrying an empty beer pitcher and wearing a big blue grand poobah hat(that I had gotten at Maggotfest only weeks before...see below). He agreed to sell me 8 hot dogs (he was just about to toss them in the trash) for $2 and a bottle of water, which marked the first time in my life I had ever bought water from a store. I walked the remaining 2 miles to the pitch and slept under a picnic bench until my team arrived the next day. If it were not for the beer, 8 hot dogs, and the big blue poobah hat, I surely would have died that night. I woke up at 2 guys poking me with stick. Hey rugger...is this the rugby field. I woke up and met 2 members of the Colorado State University 7s side. They had recently won the National title or taken 2nd (not sure) and were playing random tournaments in the west. They had lost about 5 players on the way up to Billings from Ft Collins and were planning on not playing. What a perfect coincidence. We joined forces, but still ended up losing in the end. We partied with our new friends, drank lots of beer and ended up stealing the Bulls keg and putting it in the CSU van and driving off with it to drink it in peace. We passed out that night and that ended my 7s life. I would never be able to look at the game again. Much too serious for being so short of a game. A game, where the time constraints favor the big guy.....but the lack of support kill him. No, I will leave 7s to the glamour boys. 
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Good times in Montana continue.....
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| Maggotfest....My First Year | |||||||||||||||||||
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A long time ago, years before Da Boys would terrorize the east coast village of Washington, DC, a group of young college ruggers would be bound together, week in and week out. They lived on 3rd South in St. Charles Hall in Carroll College. While the characters are very much similar to their modern day equivalent, each was as different as night and day. Len played football with me the previous year. While he was a freshmen I was a junior. He quit football and never came back. I didn't notice. He was one of a dozen running backs and I really didn't ever get to know the rookies on offense. He was fond of controlled substances and was a pretty good flanker in rugby. I convinced him to play, the same time I convinced the others. John was a skinny kid that I did know from football. He was the same year as Len and we shared one season (his freshmen) playing grid iron. He chose not to return for a second year. In rugby, he was a good second row. He was a good jumper and good pusher. In the social atmosphere, he was an above average drunk. He would drink the brown liquor and either cause self inflicted wounds (one time he stapled his arm with a stapler 3 times) or he would just decide he had enough of a party and start to walk home...which turned out not to be a good idea one time on an out of town game. Rob, my full back was an above average soccer player. He played for West Point during his 2 week stint at the academy, but left the school for personal reasons to attend Carroll College, a power house in soccer....I mean....a school that didn't even have soccer. So to fill his time, he joined rugby with his roommate John and their buddy Len. Rob and I would end up sharing more memories than the others, but as a quintet we were a powerful foursome on tour. Maggotfest: Cherry Poppin Good Time We traveled as we always do, in John's 1972 Station Wagon. It was about a 2 hour drive from Helena to Missoula. We drew the first match of the day, 8 AM. I had always hated the maggots, but this just reinforced my hatred. It was my 3rd season with the Helena All Blues. I had sat out the last few weeks in the fall with a busted shoulder and had lost my fitness and gained back my weight that I had lost during the summer of 93. It was now Spring of 94 and I was fat and out of shape. We were merging with the Butte Crabs because neither of us could fill an entire side. I was playing prop in the front row with A Blues hooker and a Crab Prop. Before the match, the maggots came out and apologized for giving us such and early game and popped some bottles of champagne. Both teams (Ketchum RFC from Idaho) joined together for some champagne toasts and we cheered each other. We played rugby. We lost and went to the sidelines. Being young, the hangovers didn't hit right away, but by the time our match had finished, we felt the aftershocks of a heavy night in Helena the night before. Rob was still only 20 years old and the only bar he could get into was Ye Ole Pub (our clubs bar). So we always drank there. We waited for our final match to be played somewhere around noon (nice part about playing first, you are the first completely done. At Maggotfest, the teams play 2 matches on Saturday and one Sunday. Period. We played the Sun Valley RFC (again from Idaho) before noon and beat them handedly. I broke my nose during a scrum and missed one of our best trys. But a win is a win. We then walked to the beer trucks. Hundreds of players were sourounding the wagons requesting free beer refills. The Maggots would traditionally go through 300 kegs a weekend and this was no exception. Rugby players were everywhere....blue jerseys, green jerseys, black jerseys...and then there were a bunch of guys wearing these big blue hats with white horns. They looked great....and I needed one. I had found a foam Bailey's Irish Crème Top hat from St. Patrick's Day in my car and was wearing it and decided to use it as trading material. One of these blue hatted guys wasn't wearing his, but had it tucked into his waste on his shorts. I walked up to this crazed individual near the beer wagon and asked where I could get a fantastic hat like the one on his head. "Can't Do it Mate. These are the team Hats for the Red Deer Titans Rugby Club. TITS--Titans International Touring Side." We then asked him why he had a bucket and hammer. This guy, wearing a blue hat, candy necklace, shaved bald, carrying a bucket and a hammer stood in front of me with a grin from ear to ear. He told a story so bizarre that it won our hearts over. I looked in amazement at all the brothers drinking beer, chatting, telling stories and couldn't stop from smiling. Our new friend, Greg, explained that he was the first guy to puke on the bus trip down from Red Deer, Alberta. He showed us some trick he did with his t-shirt (something about daughters that date Red Deer Titans aren't Titan anymore.) He also explained that he was the first guy on tour to get laid and that is why he had the hammer. He nailed some big Somoan girl that was attending the University of Montana. At least he thought she was Somoan. I then made another offer for his hat. "I do know someone that might trade you though. I will be right back with him." Two blue hatted men returned. He brought back this little Irish hooker who looked to be about 50 years old. . "I want your futtin hat," he said to me. "well I want your futtin hat," I replied. We agreed to trade hats later that night at the big Maggotfest Barn Party and we walked away. A couple guys we knew from Carroll had transferred to the U of M and we had arranged to stay with them in their dorm. We loaded the 4 of us up, along with the 2 guys we were staying with and a random rugby whore who wanted to know if we could take him to his hotel. We agreed and dropped off the other guys first so they could shower. Steve, one of the guys we were staying with, and I gave the guy a ride to his hotel. Along the way he explained that he travels here every year for this tournament. He also kept talking about all the drugs he had back in his room and how he was gonna get a few chicks later and have a huge party. I didn't think about it at first, because a lot of old timers (30s) play rugby, but I started to notice that this guy was well into his 40s, if not 50. We dropped him off at his hotel and he invited us in for a beer or whatever. For some reason we went in, maybe because we were curious, maybe because we wanted a beer, but for some reason we did enter. And we quickly left. He had a leather mask on his bed, candles on the bed stand and lots of drugs. I don't just mean pot, but pills, needles, white baggies: the works. He was serious about his high. He asked us if we wanted to partake in his tom foolery and we gripped the can of Bud Light he had just gave us and said no. We left and drove off in a very big hurry. We rejoined our friends at the college campus and drank some more beers. We then went cruising around campus and ended up in some dormitory to talk to someone. I saw this cute girl and introduced myself. I was still wearing the Baileys top hat. She said she knew who I was, which I thought was strange since I wasn't from Missoula. It turned out she went to my high school....and was in 9th Grade when I was a Sr. in High school. Len fell for her instantly and she seemed quite excited about him. We had already received our hand stamps (proving you were 21) at the field and would not need to show ID any longer. Rob had borrowed one of the Crabs IDs earlier and would be fine all night. But now Len wanted to bring his new friend along and she was only 18. We stopped by a convenience store and bought some markers and started recreating the stamp on her hand. We arrived at the party and it was in full swing. Beer was being spilled, thrown everywhere. Len and his new friend made it into the party and we all drank like men dying of thirst. We sang rugby songs, waited in line for beer and sang more songs. One of the COBRAs (City of Bozeman Rugby Assn) had a dildo and was smacking players in the face with it....another Canadian Guy had a dildo shaped like a fist, and it was about the size of a fist. He also was smacking people in the face with it. I had fought off wave after wave of chick ruggers trying to steal my hat. Then, out of nowhere, the bald individual that set up the trade walked me over to my Irish barder mate and we traded hats. I ran off screaming and yelling like a 10 year old at Christmas, my Irish Mate, walked off being scolded by his Canadian mates, and as for the bald guy, I never saw him again....until Ottawa....for I would run into him again 4 years later across the continent. When the party ended we loaded back up in the Wagon and drove back to the campus. Steve and his roommate knew some guys at the SAE house and we were all welcome to join the frat party. We arrived, all quite drunk and wet. I was wearing this huge blue hat with white horns. I later found out it was the Fraternal Lodge of the Waterbuffalo from the Flintstones. WE found beer in the frat house and continued to drink. The party cleared out after an hour or so when one of the guys drove his motorcycle into the house and spun out in the dining room. It was very Animal Housesque. I had started talking to this red head about rugby and where I was from. She started getting weird around 2 AM. Not like hot candle wax on the nipples weird, but like boiling bunny rabbits weird and started chasing me around the house. I told her I had a girlfriend, but it had no affect. She was possessed. Her friends had left her to find her own way back, as did mine. I walked out the door, thanking the SAE for a great time and asking for directions to Steve's dorm. They told me it was a long walk, but just to go straight. I walked and walked and soon noticed that the red head was in pursuit. She would hide behind rocks and signs so I wouldn't know. This was now starting to really scare me. I walked back to where she was hiding behind a tree and told her to quit following me. She made an eerie giggle and said she wasn't following. I told her to walk ahead of me then and she refused, so I started walking again. She followed again. I was getting very tired and was sore from rugby. She started talking to me about fish, babies and some type of quantum physics that I had recently seen on 20/20 days before, but this wasn't what I wanted to discuss with a looney red head in hot pursuit. I ran, she ran, and if you have ever seen me run...it wasn't hard for her to keep up. I finally got to the dormitory and tried to get in. I needed a key. I didn't have a key. I didn't know what room he was in either so I couldn't call. I waited and I waited for someone to walk out the door. No on did. The Red Death, that is what I called her, was sitting next to me on the steps, continuing her discussion on insect anatomy and the problems with TV sitcoms. I stared into space, believing this nightmare would end soon. Finally the door opened and someone asked if I forgot my key? I explained I was staying with a friend and I was going there to sleep. He agreed to let me in but questioned her involvment in the plan. I shook my head as if to say for him not to let her in...the virus...the bloody red virus. She smiled, batted her eyes and he fell into her sleepy trance. I walked away with Red Death in hot pursuit....she had somehow made it past him. I pounded on the door and was met by my buddies who all wanted to know if I hooked up with the Red head. I flipped on the light and screamed at them for leaving me with the Red Death. They laughed and pointed at her. She looked like she was about to cry. John felt sorry for her and started to comfort her. I told him to stay away, that she was evil, but he didn't listen. I fell asleep on a bed and was awakened by Steve screaming something. What was he saying? It was still dark....how long was I asleep? What is that other noise? What was happening? Concentrate, what is Steve saying? First I heard Red Death. "Can someone please take me home?" Silence. "Can someone please take me home?" Silence. "Can someone please take me home?" "SHUT UP, I want you to DIE!" Steve screamed. "Just Shut the Fuck up and die already." She continued, "Can someone please take me home?" Which was met with "DIE!" This went on until John pushed me out of bed and demanded I drive her to her house. So I got into the Station wagon (430 AM) and drove across Missoula. Neither of us were from Missoula (she was staying at her sisters.) So We drove around for a while til we found it. I finally kicked her out of the car and started driving back to campus. I hit the breaks, put the car in reverse and backed up....I threw an empty beer can at her and asked why her fucking sister couldn't have come and got her and then drove off. I never saw the Red Death again, and hopefully never will. I woke up the next day. It was rainy. We drove home around 1 pm. It was finals week and we need to get back to study. We stopped by McDonalds and counted our funds. We each had $2 left after filling up with gas. So we bought 4 McDonalds Kids Meals and drove back to Helena. Blues win again. | |||||||||||||||||||
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