Tuesday, 7 December 2010

Rugger Buggers

The Gorgeous England Rugby Player, Ben Cohen

My eldest and middle chap both play the game that mummies often find difficult to watch, rugby. It is difficult on three levels for me, firstly it is mostly played when the weather is cold, sometimes wet and often windy, and having sensitive skin the combination of these elements can prove challenging, but I have found the perfect barrier to shield me from the assault, a rich cream from Dermalogica (Intensive Moisture Balance) which not only protects but also gives my skin a healthy glow.

Another difficulty which is impossible to avoid is that of the injured son. Does one dash onto the pitch with Belstaff jacket flying behind you to tend to the wounded, or does one stand silently looking on as the boy lays on the ground gasping in pain and being ignored by everyone, until he drags himself up and limps on. It is a dilemma, and I have been told that unless the paramedics are called on, I am to stay rooted to the spot and not even show a flicker of interest. So far I have obeyed my instructions but I will be honest with you and say, I have found it extremely difficult to do so, but I do understand that there are unspoken rules which must be obeyed or my son will be ribbed endlessly by his team mates.

The final challenge is that of the Rugby Dad, who I have been able to observe at close range for nearly a whole season. Although they may vary in height, age and looks they all share some defining characteristics, an extremely loud voice, a complete disregard for the instructions and directives from the referee and a need to pace the field roaring at his own son, particularly if he makes an error. They are indeed terrifying and I have on several occasions felt quite tempted to kick one or two of them very hard on the shin, but being a lady, I haven't.

Should their sons team win they gloat boorishly during tea, should they lose the are like great big babies skulking around, and then admonish their son when he arrives looking battered and bruised from the gladiatorial battle he has just lost. There is one feature I feel that these bully boys must also share, although I have no evidence for it, that these sad excuses for men all seem to have very small bulges and I'm not talking about their wallets.

My very own Handsome Husband, I'm sure you will be pleased to know, neither paces nor shouts loudly, and chats gleefully to the other normal dads while watching with one eye while his son is being crushed, pulled, winded and occasionally scoring a try. Perhaps that may have been why he has had no trouble ever scoring himself.


Ruby Tuesday said...

I was so relieved when my son stopped playing Rugby and no I hate it as a game to watch too .. I don't "Get it"
I feel for you..I would also want to kick them...
PS tip not as glam but you made need to invest in thick puffer type North face kit ..Belstaff too glam and not warm enough xxx

TheOnlineStylist said...

Glad I don't have a rugby playing son - I just know I would be on the pitch before you could say Jimmy Choo. Though not in my Choo's you understand! Loved your account of the dads - thank goodness your OH sounds lovely! Just stamp on their toes really hard whilst wearing afore mentioned, very spiky, Choo xxx

anonymous girl said...

Thanks so much for your comment. It means a lot. I guess I am still young as people say (Don't feel like it when there are 13 year old bloggers out there already making a living before they can pay tax) but I don't feel wise for my age. It's more than just dealing with guys my age and it's the older rich guy who has been there for me for the past 2 years but I know he sees other women and I try to console myself in dating guys my age to no avail and I end up getting played. Then there is my limbo. I am not doing anything productive other than my dismal modeling career. I take an evening language course and that's it. I've done an UNPAID internship but then what? I have my BA but it's not getting me anywhere and I can't afford to be a full time student seeing as the degree I got in the first place was in "art". Lord help me.

Make Do Style said...

Hahaha I'm sure I'd be running on with tears streaming to 'rescue'!

Julia, the Thanksgiving Girl said...

Gosh, I really hope you don't take it the wrong way, but the first paragraph of your post sounds like a face cream commercial... I swear it would make a great one! I can totally imagine it :) Now please forgive me if you don't like the sound of it, will you???

Tights Lover said...

We have the same problem in this country with 'Hockey Dads'. Sadly, confrontations between dads has sometimes gotten violent.

It must be really difficult to watch someone get injured on the pitch. It sounds like the match just continues despite the injury. That would be tough for me to observe!

Sarah said...

I read this this morning at work (shh, don't tell anyone!) and you penultimate paragraph had me spluttering into my screen. Luckily no one was passing by at that time. :)

Sporting parents are often a nightmare. We have the same here in France. I always pity the poor kid.

Couture Carrie said...

Beautiful post, darling!
Love that first pic!


sexylegsandbody said...

Hi, I anxiously scrolled down your blog to see if you posted any pics of you wearing the above the knee dress and heels, but in vain... :)

Thank so much for dropping a line on my last post, I do agree, Rod is a very lucky man, but in all honesty, even taking in account his bank balance, I will not swap places with him.

Hope your weekend is going to be great. (what is left of it anyway)


Betty Manousos @ CUT AND DRY said...

I'm afraid my knowledge in rugby is very poor but I really enjoyed your post, my dear.
Great photo you paired with it.

Hope you have a good Sunday!

B xx

Betty Manousos @ CUT AND DRY said...

Ooops! I meant to say...about rugby.

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