There is something incredibly visceral about rugby league. In particular, watching your son play rugby league. Today i took SD to his very first training session. Because his Dad was held up at work. And so I discovered a part of me i never knew i had. Its called - a thirst for blood. A hunger for violence and mayhem.
At the park, watching SD train i was texting HRH with a vengeance. The conversation went a little something like this…
“Introducd Zach to Coach. He askd if Zach’s ever tackled anyone b4. I tried not 2 laugh. DUH. Coach warned me that league is very rough. Said my son might get hurt. I hid smile. Coach does nt know my son. Maybe all his other players real wimps?” I thinking, Are you kidding? This is the child who climbed out of his cot when he was only four and a half months old. Burned himself with an iron and laughed. Ran into glass doors at full speed – again and again because the thumping sound made him laugh. The kid who can run and run and run and laugh and fall down and then run some more. No, this boy was MADE to play league.
“Coach has team running laps. Zach in da lead.When does da ruff stuff start?”
“Coach has them throwing ball nw. Boring. When does ruff stuff start?”
“Zach hasn’t dropped ball once. Am getting excited abt first game on Sat. Cant wait.When does ruff stuff start?!”
“I think this child will b super player. I better B nicer 2 him. He mite grow up and B rich an famous league player. Maybe will buy his mum a Hummer?” And in my mind, Im thinking...and maybe then he will be best friends with Sonny Bill Williams!? Bonus!
“Coach has them walking thru plays nw. Boring. When does da ruff stuff start? I want 2 see Zach smash someone.”
“At last. They running and tackling. But Coach has him on sidelines cos his first day. Damnit! Want 2 see hm smash someone!”
(At this point HRH texts me back. Finally. The man can run fast but he is hopeless texter. He replies.)
CALM DOWN. HE MIGHT NOT BE ANY GOOD. WHAT IF ZACH GETS SMASHED?
“Whatevr. I will smash hm myself if he doesn’t smash someone." ( i am scoff-ful of such thoughts. Of course this boy will smash people. He doesnt do much else besides smash things at home!)
“YES! Zach playing. Lots of tackling. Lots of ruff stuff! Boy is a machine. LOVE IT LOVE IT LOVE IT!”
“Other parents asking me is this hs first time playing? Everybody says WOW he is natural. Look at hm go. Am tryng not 2 look 2 excited when Zach smashes their son to ground. Again. And again.”
“Training fin. Coach said – Yr son is going 2 B great. He is Fast. Fit. But best of all - HE'S GOT NUTS." (I think that means, hes tuff. And will totally kick butt in Saturdays game.)
On the drive home, I have sore fingers from so much texting. And I am in a daze...
Wow, I am mother of seven year old boy who's "got nuts"! I feel ridiculously flattered. And proud of myself. (oh and proud of SD too.) Am envisioning myself cheering for SD when one day he scores the winning try at the Rugby SuperBowl or World Cup or whatever the pinnacle of rugby league competition is called. And him telling everybody that its all thanks to his mum who religiously sacrificed her time and talents to take him to training. And always demanded the tuffest stuff from him.
Is a wonderful vision. (Big sigh.) I have decided - I am 100% comitted to SD's rugby league career. Told him Im going to bake choc chip cookies for the team this Saturday. And for the coach.
With extra nuts.
For extra smashing power.