With the constant stream of rugby innundating the airwaves during Rugby Wordcup 2011, talk at school has obviously included a lot of rugby banter.
We do, after all, live in Wales, a country known for its fanatic rugby support.
Unsurprisingly, a local rugby club came to Griffin’s school on a recruitment drive and Griffin decided that he wanted to take part in this cool sport that everyone else wanted to take part in.
I was extremely sceptical, having spent a few freezing Saturday mornings trying to get Griffin to listen to the football coach until he eventually started refusing to go. In total, he went to three football coaching days before he decided that football sucked and he wasn’t going to be Pele overnight. Not that he knows who Pele is, nor that he has ANY football heroes. One of his friends wanted to play, so he went to play with him.
When his first practice came up, I dressed him up warmly and took him to the club fully expecting him to turn tail and decide he wasn’t interested. I was surprised by the number of kids that turned up for practice and how many of them were friends of Griffin’s from school.
Needless to say, with all his friends floating about, running around screaming, throwing kicking dropping odd shaped balls all over the show, he was more interested in playing with them than he was in clinging to my leg begging to go home.
We arrived, he deserted me.
Hooray for rugby!
He had a whale of a time and begged me to buy his “togs” (which I later learned were simly studded rubgy boots) so I made a deal with him.
Play rugby or forfeit the togs.
He was all in. Until the following Sunday when he had to play in his first ever match against Mumbles under 8’s.
It was a freezing cold day and threatening to rain and our poor little boy HATES the cold. He truly doesn’t deal well with it and we had one of the most severe tantrums I have ever seen.
It was cold and wet BUT the deal was “If you don’t play then we will take all the rugby togs and whatnot back to the shop”. He agreed and Emma and I were forced into a massive standoff on the rugby fields…
Somehow, I have no idea how, he ended up being sideswiped by the amazing coach into forgetting how miserable and upset he was and got himself into the team colours and went off to practice.
We didn’t hear another word from him until they WON THEIR MATCH!!!
His first ever rugby game and he WON!
From tears to hero in one little segment of time…
And one times happy dad, everybody was a winner by the end of the day and thus afr he has done nothing but succeed at rugby.
Ok, so he is a little lazy and doesn’t score tries because he is languishing midfield, but he is happy as all hell and having a ball. I have already learnt my lessons about his perception of success vs mine and I don’t want to ruin the fun he is having!