We are Oakland, for good and for bad.
Oakland follows us onto the pitch every game day and asks questions of us:
Will you play rugby or will you play thug ball? Will you maintain discipline? Will you break the stereotypes that the suburbs have of you?
I think of these questions and issues against a back drop of one of the worst news stories to hit Oakland in years, the arrests of two 18-year-old men in connection with the attack and beating death of a Chinese father and son along Telegraph Avenue in the Uptown section of Oakland. I can't help but wonder what if a good team or social program or church or job or organization had intervened in these two kids' lives before they went out that day to commit mayhem. The point is that it's events like these two African-American youths arrested for the beating death that give Oakland its bad reputation throughout the Bay and the country.
So this image of Oakland may or may not be in the minds of the teams, and their spectators, when we play in Pleasanton, Danville, Orinda or San Jose. We just lost a tough, tough match to Danville out in Danville last Saturday. This game had extra meaning to me because I had coached kids in Danville with Danville's coach Jon Straka when Danville had just started youth rugby. Our friend James Perley, who started Danville rugby, died suddenly last year.
Warthogs are a fairly intimidating looking bunch, mostly thick Tongan lads and Mexican kids. So the game kicked off and went back and forth. It was intense, end to end rugby that I like. Danville had a couple backs who could just burn and our forwards rucked and pounded the ball. My heart lodged in my throat for most of the game.
It was in the second half that we lost our composure and the match. Two of our better players got yellow-carded within minutes for some type of alleged retaliation and a high tackle. We had to play two men down. The calls were dubious but in rugby you don't have time to engage in debate. Bitching about calls is useless anyway because I have never seen a rugby ref change a call. It's the great thing about rugby, the game just keeps moving.
So one of our two carded players started making a verbal scene when he got back onto the pitch. He was so intent on running someone over that he just lost his focus. He admitted to me later that Danville had got into his head. Danville Coach Straka got heated up too during the game. We all did.
In the last minute of the game a Danville player tracked down one of our speedy wings and made a great tackle on our sideline but came up injured. Our Coach Soni took the time to tend to their injured player. This kindness took place against a back-drop of catcalls and some verbal nastiness between the teams' supporters. (I watch high level rugby from all over the world on television. A fight or loss of composure in pro matches is rare.)
But we are not dealing with professionals. We are dealing with boys ages 13 to 18. We are building a culture and a program to teach kids how to handle anger, rage and frustration. We want to show them how that without a team, that an individual player regardless of superior skill is useless. We try to show them how to be focused and play like a team under pressure.
Teaching life and playing skills to our kids is a process. The light does not suddenly shine for them. But the Danville game marked the first time for me that I saw how hard all of them were working and competing.
After a hard-fought contest, the two teams joined on the middle of the pitch to shake hands and award "men of the match." The two teams ate pizza in the parking lot, which is what rugby is all about.
So this image of Oakland may or may not be in the minds of the teams, and their spectators, when we play in Pleasanton, Danville, Orinda or San Jose. We just lost a tough, tough match to Danville out in Danville last Saturday. This game had extra meaning to me because I had coached kids in Danville with Danville's coach Jon Straka when Danville had just started youth rugby. Our friend James Perley, who started Danville rugby, died suddenly last year.
Warthogs are a fairly intimidating looking bunch, mostly thick Tongan lads and Mexican kids. So the game kicked off and went back and forth. It was intense, end to end rugby that I like. Danville had a couple backs who could just burn and our forwards rucked and pounded the ball. My heart lodged in my throat for most of the game.
It was in the second half that we lost our composure and the match. Two of our better players got yellow-carded within minutes for some type of alleged retaliation and a high tackle. We had to play two men down. The calls were dubious but in rugby you don't have time to engage in debate. Bitching about calls is useless anyway because I have never seen a rugby ref change a call. It's the great thing about rugby, the game just keeps moving.
So one of our two carded players started making a verbal scene when he got back onto the pitch. He was so intent on running someone over that he just lost his focus. He admitted to me later that Danville had got into his head. Danville Coach Straka got heated up too during the game. We all did.
In the last minute of the game a Danville player tracked down one of our speedy wings and made a great tackle on our sideline but came up injured. Our Coach Soni took the time to tend to their injured player. This kindness took place against a back-drop of catcalls and some verbal nastiness between the teams' supporters. (I watch high level rugby from all over the world on television. A fight or loss of composure in pro matches is rare.)
But we are not dealing with professionals. We are dealing with boys ages 13 to 18. We are building a culture and a program to teach kids how to handle anger, rage and frustration. We want to show them how that without a team, that an individual player regardless of superior skill is useless. We try to show them how to be focused and play like a team under pressure.
Teaching life and playing skills to our kids is a process. The light does not suddenly shine for them. But the Danville game marked the first time for me that I saw how hard all of them were working and competing.
After a hard-fought contest, the two teams joined on the middle of the pitch to shake hands and award "men of the match." The two teams ate pizza in the parking lot, which is what rugby is all about.
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