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| Every Weekend is a TOUR | ||||||||||||||||||||
| The Weekender. | Submitted story from an Idiot brother | |||||||||||||||||||
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Rugby stories are sometimes best when they are randoms. If you have a story you would like to share, please email me and I will submit your story. Now on to this months story....a short adventure with me and MJ. Sit back and enjoy... The night we couldn't beat them off with sticks Now we may have been drunk (oh yes, we were drunk), but we both agreed, we were wanted men. It started out like any other night at the Bottom Line, except MJ and I were the only ones out. We had just played Philadelphia and beat them by 70 points. We drank and drank and drank and ran into a couple of the Maryland Stingers women's team players. They were cute and we danced with them for a while. Karen, Kiwi John's significant was out with her friends and we ran into them as well. I approached the bar to get a beer and this cute blonde starts to talk to me. She asks my name, to which I reply, "Montana." She says, "I have heard of you." MJ interrupts and says, "I love when girls say that: I have heard of you." Turns out she was one of Karen's friends and my notoriety was a simple case of friend of a friend. We went out on the dance floor and danced with Karen and her friends. She was with 4 cute girls. One reminded me of someone Super Boy would be interested in, 5'2" with large breasts. She was by far the drunkest. The blonde that "heard of me," had caught MJ's eye and he was dancing exclusively with her for a while. A girl that Harry had gone out with a couple times was there as well and we talked about Harry a bit. All in all we were partying hard. I then turn to the bar and there is Rebecca, Bri Bri's old roommate. While we haven't been on the best of terms, I owe her my life for the rescue of my wallet. Long story that doesn't need to be told. We did a shot, she told me she was on her way to this hoity toity bar and we said goodbye. At about that time, the short big-breasted girl pulled me back on the dance floor. We danced some more. I then saw this cute girl smiling at me. I started dancing her way and the short girl pushed her off the dance floor. Things were getting weird now. The Stingers were back and we danced with Megan and Peanut (Penis) for a while, then back to Karen's friends. At one point the blonde MJ was working on gave them an evil glare and then all hell broke loose. The Short girl with the big tits bit MJ and me in the ass. Karen escorted her intoxicated friend to taxi and we all found ourselves on our way to Mad Hatters, where we found a respective crowd for MJ and my solo topless dance. (See topless story) And for the first time I ever remember, women jumped up on stage with us and went topless (bras only). We went over to MJs afterwards to eat. MJ was drunk dialing at that point. I found out all his roommates were gone so I did my imitation of the Home Alone scene when the kid runs through the house screaming and waving his arms. I tripped, however on the top step, breaking my big toe nail in half. It bled a lot and I later found out, that one of his roommates was at home. Oops. The end. 
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First I would like to tell everyone that the Tour Story of the WHORS and the trip to Ottawa can be found at WHORS PAGE This next story was submitted by Jim Clawson of the Detroit Tradesman RFC. He is an Idiot Brother and you can see him in this season's episodes of PropWorld. (of course any likeness to him or his name is purely coincidental. The charactors are fictional and based on no one.) With that said, here is his story. Building the Better Rugby Player Recent attempts at cloning rugby players have not often worked. A number of years ago, project WILLARD was deemed as a lost cause and more recently project RAY is being viewed as hopeless. This past summer, however, a female rugby fan of the Tradesmen took it upon herself to wield the genetic powers and combine all the good characteristics of the powerful forwards and the speed and quickness of a typical back. The journey in scientific discovery began one very late night at a pub in downtown Detroit where one of the doormen, who also happens to be a prop for the Tradesmen, was contacted about making a contribution for the purposes of building the ultimate rugby player. The short, but big headed, man was reluctant. Claiming to be a Christian and not wanting to take part in experiments dealing with the powers of The Almighty, the young man was told of all the good things that would come about upon the arrival of an ultimate rugby player. After several hours of being told how great he was and a number of shots, the man was lured to the female scientists secret laboratory, which coincidentally happened to be his truck, to get her first sample to begin the cause. Two weeks later the lady scientist was back at it again, searching for another rugby player with superior abilities. The first sample provided size and strength. Now she needed a sample from someone a bit quicker, but at the same time a decent ball handler and hard nosed runner/tackler. To vary the sampling, she heard of another rugby bar in a more posh area. Upon inspecting the talent level of the players from "the other team", she quickly headed back to where the real rugby players in Detroit hang out. With time running out, desperation set in. She needed a donor and needed it that night. Seeing that most of the Tradesmen good flankers weren't around at the time, the young scientist decided to take her sample regardless, Chowda would have to do. Here was her first mistake because, well, we pretty much know our Bostonian friend doesn't possess too many of the above characteristics, but onward went the study. Having no qualms about possibly messing with the cosmic forces, the young man was heard yelping, "who's yo daddy," as the sample was being taken. Several more weeks went by and word of the experiments was out in the open. One not so young, but very religious man, supporting the Oral Roberts movement, was appalled. He was heard saying, "It's a matter of the highest principle that I'm not part of this study." Apparently he was a little more hesitant than the first Christian donor. The next donor was supposed to be a highly skilled back player. One that moves with grace across the field while carrying or passing the ball at blazing speeds. Luckily the Tradesmen have several of these players and the young scientist went about her business of trying to coerce these men to give a sample. Realizing the young woman was close to her goal, the Oral Roberts man, knowing he didn't possess the quality back skill, knew he could taint the samples with his slow pace and unfit rugby characteristics. He sacrificed his soul and beliefs in order to stop the young woman from playing God, creating the ultimate rugby player. The scientific community regarded the study the young lady performed as a failure once she allowed her samples to be tainted with inferior rugby player qualities. I'm sure one day a number of years from now, the latest genetic defective rugby player will be inclined to play for the club once he realizes where his roots lie.
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| Blues at Maggotfest 1994!!!! | ||||||||||||||||||||
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A Retrospective of my First Maggotfest
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 200 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 the 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 arent 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 rugby whore 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. 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 8th 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 (proof of age) at the field and would not need to show ID any longer. Rob had borrowed one of the Crabs IDs earlier (to get stamped) 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. 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 involvement 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 brakes, put the car in reverse and backed up?..I threw an empty beer can at 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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