Last Season's Miracle

It was early January, when the snow was still beleaguering the spring soil. I was tutoring an acquaintance in the art of advanced algebra when I received an intriguing phone call. A co-worker of mine was wondering if I would be interested in joining a newly founded Gig Harbor City Rugby Team. Knowing little about rugby, but being naturally athletic, I thought I would try it out. I vividly remember my first practice. Frost encrusted the field, and the ball appeared as a bloated football, round on the ends. The coach stepped up, and I introduced myself. He then began to tell of his New Zealand origins, speaking in the accent of Crocodile Dundee, and his passion for rugby. This was the first time that anyone on the field had ever even seen a rugby ball before. The sport seemed as foreign as the man addressing us did. We were each given our positions, and the learning began. I was placed in the role of Scrum Half, or quarterback. I was overjoyed to be placed in such an important role, but I did not realize then that it was due to my small stature.
The season started slow, as the rules of the game were very complicated, and the ground was still frozen. As the temperature rose through the month, our understanding and love for the game did as well. Soon, we were running formations as if we were an experienced program full of veterans. Our season began against a well-established program from Budd Bay. The game was merely an exhibition to allow us to play a fast-paced game before our season began. Despite losing by several touchdowns, we thoroughly enjoyed it. Our coaches had other plans, and our practices grew in intensity as we set our sights upon the ever-elusive victory. The day arrived for our first game, and our opponent was Budd Bay.
We began strong, and we were winning by half time. It was like a dream come true. The second half started, and they attacked with the ferociousness of a veteran team being beaten by rookies. They caught up, and we found ourselves outmatched by their experience and size, and did all we could to cling to our small lead. The game ended with a sudden breakthrough run by their wing. Dodging and weaving, he sidestepped tackler after tackler. It seemed as though with this last play he would score and secure a victory for the veteran Budd Bay squad. Not about to allow this to happen, my older brother and I sprinted across the field and crushed him into the out-of-bounds two feet from the goal line. The referee blew the game-ending whistle and we found ourselves beginning the season with an undefeated record.
The celebrating was soon forgotten as we ran laps to our coach’s desire. He told us that in order to do something truly great, we would have to consume ourselves in it. We would have to forget about all else, and be a rugby player every second of every day. Many of us decided to run in the mornings to increase our endurance. Due to the early morning church class that some of us attended daily, which began at 6:00 AM, we had to begin our runs at 4:00 AM. The team became our lives, and it was all that gave us happiness or sadness. Nothing else mattered. The season continued, and our extra work was paying off. We began to demolish our opponents, and turned our sight towards the state championship. After finishing the season with a state best record, the team began making plans to attend the championships. As our coaches explained the particulars of the tournament, he mentioned that the day was a Sunday. I had never before been faced with such a conflict. I had been raised to not play sports on sundays and regard them as holy days, yet the entire team depended on me as I played an important position, and was an anchor.
As much as I have tried, I have never made it to state on the wrestling team, and the desire to compete on such a high level of sportsmanship has always been a dear wish in my heart. I arrived at practice forty-five minutes early to think over my problem, and I began to run. Running always cleared my mind and allowed such complicated matters to be made clear. I was soon joined by a few teammates who had been there for me throughout the entire season and had become my brothers. I knew they would support me in my decision. I approached the coach at the beginning of practice and told him of my decision to remain in Gig Harbor and to attend church while they journeyed to Olympia for the championship. My decision was also mirrored by a fellow church mate and teammate. Our decision was despised by a few members of the team, who took the opportunity to pester me every moment they saw me, speaking down to me about responsibility and selfishness. I stayed strong in my decision.
My team experienced a miracle that day as they headed to Olympia to compete for the State Title in a game that they hadn't heard of five months earlier: They won the state championship without two of their starting players. Furthermore, they were invited to the All-Northwest Championships, which were held on a Saturday. I got my wish to play on a high-level of sportsmanship, and my joy overflowed as I stood holding that first place trophy at the end of the game. Not only had we won it all, we demolished the Oregon State Champions, the Volunteers, who were all twice as big as our biggest man. Sometimes its the size of the fight in the dog, not the dog in the fight.