The Playing And The Partying Were Loovly

To many American players the Rugby tradition that compensates for aches and sprains and muddy faces is the Rugby party, where the host team entertains the visiting team or teams as lavishly as it can afford. The game is forgotten, and everyone bathes in a spirit of conviviality. Toasts are drunk, friendships are struck and Rugby songs, such as The Sex Life of the Camel, are sung. A team that has lost the game often can find solace by winning the party.

On the eve of its tournament, the Notre Dame Rugby Club threw an informal smoker and followed this with a more formal banquet. As Rugby parties go, the smoker, in a South Bend hotel, was a mild affair. Toronto is said to have won. The second party—held the night before the final—was quite another thing. Scotch bagpipers played rousing marches. Pretty girls attended from colleges far and near. In the English tradition pints were hoisted and enthusiastic singers stood on tabletops. A kind of hockey was played on the floor with brooms for sticks and, of course, Jello for the puck. In the background was a dance band playing brassy music for such traditional dances as the frug and the jerk. Past games were replayed, past parties were recalled and friendships were cemented. Later a mirror got smashed, a telephone was mysteriously pulled off the wall, one team gave a hotel room a good hosing and another team was requested to move out of the hotel. Toronto was adjudged the winner, with a two-way tie for second. The party was one of the best ever.

Apart from enjoying the challenge of such rigorous partying, most collegiate players got into Rugby because they were either too small to play bigtime football, or gave up football for a sport that allowed them to perform like two-way quarterbacks—passing, running, kicking and tackling. Some simply preferred Rugby's more "civilized" atmosphere. An Indianan, who had played high school football, recalled with a shudder his coach's "psyching" trick of pasting pictures of opposing players in each man's locker before the upcoming game. The word "Hate!" was written over each picture. "Rugby has a lot more dimension than most major varsity sports," he said, "because you respect your opponents as nice guys, even though they're trying to cream you on the field."

Whatever their reasons, undergraduates and some graduate students are joining college Rugby clubs at an ever increasing rate, especially in the Midwest. Five years ago, there were none outside the St. Louis area. Now seven Big Ten universities have clubs, as well as the U. of Chicago. In a year, estimates Victor Hilarov, president of the Midwest Rugby Football Union, every Big Ten school will have a Rugby club, The game appeals to all types: Wisconsin has a French count, Minnesota has a sky diver and Indiana has a bullfighter on its team. Football players make up the nucleus of the strong Stanford team, where Rugby is a varsity sport, and California, which probably has the best Rugby team of all the colleges, has been invited to play in Australia. At Yale and Princeton football players get their off-season knocks by playing Rugby. Yale can field three teams, and among its players are Derrick Bush, who plays on the Brazilian National team in the summer, and Tony Dunn, captain of this year's football team. On Princeton is Stan Malisewski, an All-Ivy League football player.

The disadvantage of playing for a college club is that money for travel, equipment and entertaining is hard to come by. The Notre Dame club wanted to raise funds by having the football team, no member of which plays Rugby, take on the Chicago Bears in basketball, but this was vetoed. The club is now thinking of selling blood to a blood bank. "We might as well get paid for spilling it," said a second-stringer.

Notre Dame, however, spills whatever blood it spills to good purpose. Of all college teams, it has made the greatest strides in attracting applicants and in improving its skills. Five years ago Bob Mier, who played Rugby in his home town of St. Louis, got together with Ken Featherstone, a professor of architecture, and founded the Rugby Club. The first 25 players turned out and the team had a 3-5-2 record. Last fall 90 players answered the call for recruits, and Notre Dame continued its triumphant ways, winning 19 straight games before losing.

In the second half of the Toronto Nomad game a drizzle started and colorful umbrellas mushroomed in the stands. The game got rough. At one point Mike Murphy, the 6-foot-5, 210-pound Notre Dame captain, slammed into a smaller Toronto player and knocked him fiat. The grounded Nomad lay still in the cold drizzle while play moved around him. A second Nomad was knocked down, and he lay still. Finally the ball was kicked cut-of-bounds. Helped by their teammates, the fallen pair clambered to their feet and announced they were ready to play. The Notre Dame players, as is traditional, applauded the boys' pluck, while the Torontonians applauded the sportsmanship of the Notre Dame team.

Play moved quickly up and down the field with no score until, with only 15 seconds to go, Notre Dame was awarded a penalty kick near the Toronto goal.

"A bloody gyp," a Toronto follower said quietly.

The ball, to the dismay of Toronto, was 15 yards from and directly in front of the goalposts. Jamie Toohey, the star kicker on the Notre Dame team, dug a hole in the turf for the ball to rest in and stepped back a few paces. He calmly sighted the crossbar, stepped forward swiftly and with a smart kick sent the ball soaring between the uprights. It was three points for Notre Dame, and a moment later the game ended. Notre Dame had captured the Irish Challenge Cup.