'Rugby Gets in Your Blood'

This was undoubtably the hardest story I ever had to write - and I blame them. You see, the only way they would be interviewed is if I would come join them at a house party and drink with them. Now I am a drinker, so I said I would. But I brought my micro-cassette recorder and three tapes, and the last two tapes were useless. I couldn't tell what I was asking, let alone what any of them were answering. Though, in moments of some lucidity, I could tell we were discussing Iraq, the tax base, Canadian girls, and the NFL. But, as God as my witness, everything in the story had to come off the first tape (and most of that was off the first side of the first tape). These guys say they've never lost a party. They're not lying.

It has been said that soccer is a gentlemen’s game played by hooligans, but that rugby is a hooligan’s game played by gentlemen. It is a violent game, fast moving and dangerous, immortalized by the bumper sticker that reads, “Give Blood. Play Rugby.” In Jackson, those gentlemen who participate in the hooligan’s game are known as the Jackson Rugby Football Club.

Though the majority of local sports fans are not even aware that the club exists, the Jackson Rugby FC began in 1974 and has been active since. The club competes nationally with 365 different teams in their division. Currently the team plays their matches at Chastain School, at 4650 Manhattan Road.

Locally, the men of the club number between twenty-five and thirty, depending on who is asked. The fluid numbers are accounted for easily. These are not professional players. These are men that practice twice a week, play games every Saturday, and have to foot their own bills on road trips during the seasons. Some men are not able to make games or practices with any regularity, some are on leaves of absence, and some are limited to only being available at certain times. But most of them are die-hards, adjusting their work and home schedules to allow them to fully participate in rugby and all of its aspects.

Rugby is one of the oldest team sports in existence. Early variants of the game were played several hundred years ago, but its current form has been around since 1823, when William Webb Ellis, a monitor at the Rugby School in the midlands of England, overhauled some of the then-current rules of the game and made it his own. The rules have been changed and modified numerous times in the one hundred and eighty one years since, but the game is substantially the same.

Both American-style football and Australian Rules football sprang from rugby. Many of the terms are used in both sports: forward pass, fullback, halfback, punt, place kick, and offsides are all used. Rugby is played on a 100-meter-long field – the “pitch” – as opposed to a 100-yard long field. Goalposts stand at each end of the pitch and kicking the ball between the forks results in points on the board. Even the post-touchdown extra point in football comes from rugby’s conversion kick.

But unlike football, rugby is a game of constant motion and speed. During a match, players must play both offense and defense and only minimal substitutions are allowed. Players must be prepared to be on their feet, running and tackling, for most of the game.

The match consists of two forty-minute halves. The clock runs continually, stopping only for injuries. Players are penalized for unnecessarily delaying the game in any way.

This kind of hard play demands a certain level of fitness. These men have it, but these are not the typical athletes. Toughness is more important to a rugby player than physique. As such, potbellies abound, and a six-pack is more likely to refer to cold beer than to abs.

“The majority of guys who are really good athletes aren’t chiseled,” says Blair Lobrano, a prop. “I have a background in Olympic weightlifting. You can be fit and not have the physique of a Greek god. The athletes we see on TV are being marketed, sold to you. They need to look good.” He believes that rugby players need something more important than a chiseled physique.
“It’s a sort of mental and physical toughness. It’s that desire to keep going, because the guy standing next to you is also still going.”

Lock forward Ray Wiltshire, known as “Mouth of the South,” agrees. “Rugby is controlled violence. You can’t be a wallflower, as far as worrying about being hurt. You’re going to get stepped on. You’re going to get scraped, scratched, bruised, and beat up. You have to be tough and a little rough around the edges. I’ve learned to recruit anybody of any size. Look at little Jason over there. He’s tough as woodpecker lips.”

Wiltshire has been playing rugby since 1990, when he graduated from Millsaps College. A four-year football player there, he was brought to rugby by a friend. He says there are many different ways that guys stumble into the rugby scene.

“I happened to walk into the Dutch Bar wearing, unbeknownst to me at the time, a rugby jersey,” says Jason “Booger” Guillot, who plays outside center. “I proceeded to get ragged by the players who were there. They did it hard enough that I finally came out and practiced with them. I started playing in 1999 and never stopped.”

“I met the guys in the Dutch Bar,” says Bradley “Opie” Barnes, a wing forward. When I first met them, I thought, I don’t need to be playing rugby. These guys are entirely too big. But I kind of had a little crush on this girl who said that she knew a bunch of the guys who played. She said she was always there. So I said, ‘I’m going to start playing.’”

To a man, the players all agree that the camaraderie they share is one of the reasons they stay with the club.

“You’re looking at a lot of likeminded, loudmouthed, very opinionated, very strong personalities,” Wiltshire says, which brings laughter from most of his teammates.

“We don’t play because anybody pays us – or whether or not anybody watches us, for that matter,” says Guillot. “We play for the parties after the game, and for the camaraderie. We don’t play for glory. God knows there’s not too much of that. We’ve approached a lot of groups for sponsorships and been turned down. I’m telling you, girls’ soccer teams get more financial support than we do.”

Except from former players. Recently, a group of former (and a few current) players formed OBIG, the Old Boys’ Investment Group. They purchased a piece of land off Medgar Evers Boulevard and are turning it into a rugby playing field.

Club President Mitch Holland, and proud OBIG member, says:

“We’re going to have two rugby pitches there. We’ve leveled the fields and planted the grass. We hope to play on them in September or October this year. In the long term, we need to add a good road and parking. We have a dirt road, but if it rains, you can’t get in at all. In the very long term, we want the two fields to become practice and secondary fields. The premiere field will go in when we have the funds. We plan to have a clubhouse and a video tower, so we can tape our matches.”

OBIG, like the club, is made up primarily of white-collar workers. Several doctors, lawyers, and engineers have regular places on the team.

“Everyone has a degree,” Wiltshire says. “Most of these guys have post-graduate degrees. Well, Opie doesn’t have a degree, since he’s still in college. He’s the baby of the team.”
The social aspect of the club is important to the members. Carlo Bagliane came from Capetown, South Africa, to play baseball for Belhaven College. Bagliane, known as “Bags,” the team’s flyhalf, describes his need for the team.

“I got married. I met my wife. She wouldn’t go back, so I stayed here.” His teammates chant, “Green card! Green card!” while he tells the story.

“I needed some sport to play. There’s no other sport here that’s a club. There’s no soccer in Jackson that’s a club. There’s no baseball in Jackson that’s a club. But there was a rugby club.”
To many of the members, the social aspect is a chance for relaxing and having a few – or several – drinks with friends. The team practices on Tuesday and Thursday during the season and has regular Saturday games. Games invariably end with both teams going to a bar or club together to do a bit of bilateral celebrating. But the celebrating also tends to occur during the week, too.

“To keep in practice,” Bagliane says. Apparently it pays off.

“I can honestly say that we may have lost games, but we’ve never lost a party,” Wiltshire says. “There’s been many places where if we win, the other team gets pissy. They drink a few beers and leave. We’ll kill their keg and drink at their bar until the last guy is ready to leave.”

“Or get kicked out,” Guillot says.

“In Pensacola we did get thrown out,” Wiltshire admits. He says that their combination of hard playing and hard partying brings them an unusual mix of fans.

“We get some fans of extreme sports. We get the oddly curious, the people who just want to see a train wreck out there. But believe it or not, there are a lot of women that rugby appears to attract. I don’t want to toot our horns too much. We’re not the prettiest guys, but a lot of us have very nice looking girlfriends.”

They also have many close friendships.

“The best thing about rugby to me is that the most important person on the field is the man standing next to me,” says teammate John Suyes, who recently returned to the team. Several others nod and agree.

“I’ve been with the club since 1980,” Holland says. “But I got away from it a bit during the 90’s. I’m back now. The guys who are here now remind me of my old teammates. They have that team spirit. They get along well. They remind me of how the team was when I played many years ago.”

“We’re from a smaller municipality,” says James Charbonneau, who plays both lock and wing forward. “So we’re always recruiting new players. We take young, old, whatever. We want people to know we’re here. We’ve been here a long time.”

“We’re just around the corner,” Guillot agrees. “Chastain School is just off the interstate.”

Charbonneau invites those interested in playing to, “Come out and play with us. We’ll train anyone. You didn’t have to play in college or in high school.” But be warned, you might become devoted.

“As long as my body can take it, I’m going to play,” Bagliane states.

“I’m here for the haul,” Barnes says. “As long as I’m able to go, I’m going to play. When I’m not able to go, if I have any money, I’m going to put a little in to support.”

“Rugby gets in your blood,” says Wiltshire. “You will love it.”

Rammer Jammer Yellowhammer

Mississippians love their books. They have to, what with being the state known for Faulkner, Welty, Tennessee Williams, John Grisham, and others. Planet readers were astonishingly literate and one of our constants was our book section. We did small book reviews and had lists of regular book signings, and every now and then I'd do a book review (we had an editor and several freelancers who loved to do them). This was just one of my favorites.

I’m sitting on the couch, watching Olympic event after Olympic event and nearly drooling at the opportunity to watch my Chiefs smack around the Rams on preseason Monday Night Football (by the time this sees print, I’ll find out if I was right). I’ve made no secret of my love of sports, or of the fact that Kansas City football and baseball are imprinted on my soul. I’m also a New England Patriots fan – many moons in Maine caused me to adopt them, but they are a distant second compared to my beloved Arrowhead Stadium roughnecks. I’m a half-assed Ole Miss fan, simply because I went to a cow college in a neighboring state, one in which the football team found mediocrity something to strive for. I once screamed so loud and so long – at a high school football game – that I broke my voice.

Put simply, I’m a sports fan.

So when I had a chance to review Warren St. John’s Rammer Jammer Yellowhammer I jumped at it. St. John, a New York Times writer and crimson-blooded Bama fan, has written one of the funniest and most insightful books on sports-based psychology ever written. Partly a guided tour of the SEC, partly a history of Alabama football and the legacy of “Bear” Bryant, partly a season-long memoir by a very skilled sports writer, and partly a handbook of RV etiquette, Rammer Jammer Yellowhammer is simply the most entertaining nonfiction book I’ve read in years.

Named after one of Alabama’s crowd chants, St. John’s first book begins with an honest description of his own fan obsessions, such as paying for three hours’ long distance while in college to listen to an Alabama-Auburn ball game over the phone. But it kicks into gear when St. John decides what his mission is:

“I wanted to understand how and why something so removed from our lives – something that doesn’t affect our jobs, our relationships, or our health (hangovers notwithstanding) – affects us so much emotionally,” St. John writes. To do that, he chooses to immerse himself in the RV subculture of sports fandom, following those mobile fans from game to game around the South. On the way, he meets numerous other football fans – most, but not all, Bama supporters. Most are portrayed with some great affection, like Chris and Paula Bice, a South Carolina couple who are the only people to invite him to travel in their RV, and John Ed (“John AY-ud”) Belvin, a ticket broker from Tuscaloosa (and Kenny Rogers look-alike) of whom St. John writes:

“I’m beginning to develop an appreciation for John Ed’s strange personal lexicon. If he doesn’t like someone, that person is likely a “mullet-head,” or else a “fruit loop.” (Sometimes when his cell phone doesn’t work, it too can qualify as a mullet-head.) Someone who is socially awkward is a “weird piece of cheese.” John Ed is also fond of citing himself as an authority on a wide range of topics. The setup is always the same: “I made the statement one time that…” followed by a prediction that has proven abundantly true in the interim.”

St. John’s ability to turn a phrase puts me in mind of an amiable Tom Wolfe. Unlike most journalists, he is totally free from the name-date-this happened-that happened style that passes for quality writing. In fact, he comes across as part pop psychologist, part Southern storyteller, and part stand-up comedian. He writes:

“At big games, motor homes are so tightly packed that a person could nearly circle the entire stadium by walking along their rooftops, although as I learned firsthand, you should never walk along the rooftop of a stranger’s motor home because there’s a decent chance he will shoot you.”
St. John is not only amusing, but insightful. He has done his research, quoting from sources as diverse as Gustave Le Bon’s 1895 treatise on the mentality of crowds, The Crowd: A Study of the Popular Mind, to historian Allen Guttman, who is cited for his history of the tailgate party. It’s not dull and dry, but it is research.

Rammer Jammer Yellowhammer is a remarkably evenhanded piece of work, one that is able to humanize a group of people often unfairly dismissed as uneducated, lazy louts. And yet, St. John does not shy away from describing the seamier sides of fandom in the South: the obsessive-compulsive behavior, the occasional racism, the threats of violence, and some of the smarmy acts of the Old Boy network.

Rare is the tome whose back cover praise matters. For this one, praise by Tom Wolfe, Gay Talese, Tony Horwitz (author of Confederates in the Attic), and H.G. “Buzz” Bissinger (author of Friday Night Lights – arguably the best book ever written about high school sports) is well deserved and demonstrable of the skill St. John possesses.

This is a good book. For any sports fan, it should be required reading.

Magic on the Court - Feature

This was one of the first pieces I did that I was thoroughly proud of. It was a hoot hanging out with these guys, and I did my best to make sure their personalities came out in the piece. Ever since, it became a standard in my pieces to do that.

It’s a typical Thursday night at Champion Johnnie Community Center in Jackson. Four men are playing a fast pickup basketball game. Shouts ring out: “Go to the net!” “Right here!” “Shoot!” Their voices echo off the walls, mixing with the squeak of rubber against the floor. The ball travels from hand to hand before James Clayton grabs it and takes a quick shot. The ball bounces off the rim and back. Clayton and another player, Bob Woods, grab for it. Both barely touch it, but the ball bounces past and out of bounds.

Clayton and Woods both race to the ball and immediately start arguing about which of them, if either, touched it and who touched it last. Clayton finally ends the argument by simply throwing the ball inbounds to his teammate. Woods races by and yells:

“He’s a cheater! Put that in the story!”

Clayton laughs, missing his shot. Woods tries to keep a straight face while he trash-talks Clayton, but can’t. He breaks up laughing even after continuing to rag his opponent. The good-natured squabbling continues. The men rebound, pass, pick-and-roll, block, foul, shoot, and score. After forty-five minutes of hard half-court play, the game ends and the four athletes start over to the sidelines.

The men push themselves to the bleachers. When they arrive, all four are tired, but all are smiling. Their wheelchairs may be a tiny bit more battered from the game, but all are still intact.

James Clayton is the team representative for the Mississippi Magic, Jackson’s own member of the National Wheelchair Basketball Association. He plays forward and has the upper body of a pro ball player: shaved head, broad shoulders, and muscular arms. The fact that he plays from a wheelchair becomes somewhat unimportant.

“It was a spinal cord injury,” he says. “It’s been about twenty-three years ago. Gunshot wound right here,” he taps the center of his chest. “Right in my heart. I lost a kidney and a lung.”
“I was on a respirator, kidney dialysis,” he says, speaking about the time not long after he had been shot. Clayton had participated in track-and-field in Memphis before the injury. He was hospitalized for one year. A friend, Ivey Earley, introduced him to wheelchair basketball when he was discharged. Today, both Earley and Clayton play on the same team. Clayton says the sport has been a vital part of his life and his health.

“It helps build my lung and makes it a lot stronger. It’s really been a lifesaver.” In fact, the sport has become so much a part of his life that his body requires it. “Without them, this time of year would be rough. When I’m not working out, I have respiratory problems.”

Alfred Woods, who also plays forward, agrees.

“I find that anytime I just quit for a little while, I find myself having illnesses. My body’s just used to being active.” Johnson is a ten-year veteran of wheelchair basketball, and has been playing with the Magic since its inception. He has been in a wheelchair for twelve years.

“I was cleaning a machine out over at Tyson and someone turned it on when I was inside,” Johnson tells us. “It was called a chiller, a big, huge machine where the chickens drop off to cool. There’s blades and stuff in it. It threw me around, up in there. Ruined my spinal cord.”

Bob Woods is actually the coach of the Mississippi Magic, and has been so for five years. A victim of polio, he began playing wheelchair basketball in 1977 in Portland, Oregon. He came to Jackson in 1991, and has been an active member of the community ever since. Woods suffered injuries to his hand and arm a few years ago, requiring surgery. He gave up playing regularly to become the team coach. He is still proud of his hoop skills.

“I was a Tasmanian rebounder and passer,” he says. “I was the Dennis Rodman-type guy. ‘Go get the ball.’ Give it to the man who can shoot. All I wanted to do is to play with somebody who can shoot the ball.”

Arm injury or not, Woods can still shoot, and he can still play. He pressed Clayton hard, occasionally locking their chairs together. Whenever that happened, everyone would stop and untangle them before continuing play. Clayton points to a gap in the frame of his chair.

“Bob, he knows,” he says, grinning. “One thing I can say about him…” he laughs. “I can say…you know…he’s a dirty player.” Woods denies this loudly while everyone else laughs. He finally joins in, reminding me that Clayton is a cheater. The laughter increases.

The Mississippi Magic is a member of the Division III Gulf Coast Conference, which includes teams in Gulfport; New Orleans; Lafayette, Louisiana; Beaumont, Texas; Austin, Texas; and Montgomery, Alabama. The Magic also regularly plays non-conference games with Memphis, Chattanooga, Knoxville, and Jackson, Tennessee.

This weekend, the team plays Jackson twice on Saturday at Champion. The community center is more than just where they practice, it is also where they compete.

The Magic fields a team of fourteen players, between the ages of 23 and 56. The last few seasons have all been winning ones. This one continues the pattern; the Magic are 10-4, with only one conference loss. NWBA seasons run from September to February, which means the teams are beginning their run to the final tournaments. The team’s goal this year is to make it to the national tournament in Bloomington, Indiana.

To get there, to play in the rest of the games and tourneys that will take them there, the team needs about ten thousand dollars to do so. Collecting money for the season is a challenge that the team has to meet every season. Not only does the team have the usual financial problems: gas, motel rooms, food, uniforms, and so on; but they have to pay for things you may have never thought about.

Athletes do not typically use standard wheelchairs. The chairs can’t stand up to the punishment of a basketball game. Good athletic chairs have their wheels canted out for better performance, allowing them better agility and quickness on the floor. The problem is that the chairs are wider than the standard 32-inch doorway, which makes them impossible to use in one’s own house, or even in most businesses.

The average sports wheelchair costs between two and three thousand dollars. Tubes for the tires cost around $100. In fact, several members of the team need completely new wheelchairs.
“We’ve played it tight. It’s been close,” Woods says. “But there hasn’t been a trip we haven’t been able to make. We’ve been really blessed. The general public in Jackson and the surrounding areas really support us.” But even with that, things aren’t easy. Speaking of last weekend’s trip to Tennessee:

“We’re short this weekend, but we’re pulling in together for the motel. We’re leaving some of us behind to make this tournament.”

Fielding a team out of Jackson proves more difficult than in some cities.

“Memphis, New Orleans, Atlanta; these teams are being sponsored by the professional basketball teams. Where here in Mississippi, we don’t have a professional basketball team,” Woods says.

To keep going, the team, a non-profit group, accepts charitable donations of any size. Clayton says the team receives support from Wal-Mart, and from Kroger in Brandon. But their largest sponsor is the Mississippi Paralysis Association, who gives them five thousand dollars every year. Natalie Ellis, president of the MPA, says they are delighted to sponsor the team.

“It brings a lot of public awareness. It also benefits the people who are injured. It encourages them to take part and shows them that they can still participate in activities that they enjoyed before they were injured.” The MPA also helps sponsor rugby and hockey teams in the state.
Woods says the Magic doesn’t even charge admission to games. “We just ask for donations. Basically, we just want to get people to get out and get involved with the team, and to give them general support.”

To return that support, the Magic doesn’t let the end of the season mean the end of the team’s work. They play all year, switching to exhibition games in early spring. The team goes to schools and plays games against the teachers, or students, or basketball players. The team will spot them fifty points or so and put the other players in wheelchairs.

“The kids always look forward to it,” Clayton says. The team uses the exhibition games as fundraisers, splitting the money raised with the school. They use the opportunity to inform the children about living in a wheelchair, about understanding those people who do, and about avoiding situations that could put them at risk. They also use the opportunity to speak directly to children who are disabled.

“We try to encourage them. You don’t stop. You can go to school, you can work and be active. You can live a normal life,” Clayton says.

“Come out and see the games,” Woods suggests. “You’ll definitely enjoy it. There’s a lot of action, a lot of fun. The people who come really enjoy seeing us play.” He smiles. “It’s as good as pro ball on television.”

The team may not have the roster, and they may not have all the equipment they desire. The team does need support, both financial and spiritual. Come out, watch a game, meet the players, and find out why – both on the court and off – these athletes are Magic.