Behind the Psychotic Flanker

I love rugby. I really do. I can't wait to find out if I get tickets in the World Cup lottery, so I can start planing my trek to the rugger craziness in New Zealand next year.

Why am I suddenly blogging poetic about the hooligan's sport? I watched Invictus the other night, and I'm so glad that Clint Eastwood made that movie and made it well, because it's my very favorite sports story. Aside from involving rugby, I love how a sport united a nation with such a horribly divided past, and that Nelson Mandela was genius enough to see that it would work. Looking at South Africa now during the FIFA coverage, the racial strife is in the past, thanks to a much better sport than soccer. But even better, Invictus was just a good movie. It was engaging and well made, but didn't take a lot of liberties for dramatic effect; it stayed true to the history, and was awesome.

But I'm not a reviewer. The point is that rugby rules. And that I always cry at sports movies. Ok, I have two points.

I'm not sure what it is about sports, but they can touch my charred heart and bring a tear to my eye faster than any holocaust drama, chick flick, or truckload of game-show winners.* Maybe it's because part of my brain belongs to a stereotypical straight guy. That same part of my brain also requires me to record every episode of The Dudesons, and (no exaggeration) made me fall off my couch from laughing at Jackass Number 2.

I cried all through a documentary about the same South African story on which Invictus is based. I shed more than a few tears watching Wayne Gretzky do a final skate around the ice after his last game. When my brother's high school football team went undefeated in the regular season? Not a dry eye on my face. Despite not being much of a baseball fan and finding Field of Dreams long, boring, and generally stupid, I still got choked up during the ghost father and son game of catch at the end.

I think I'm off the point again. In conclusion, rugby rules, and sports conjure up my otherwise dead emotions, especially in movie form.

Except for The Wrestler. Maybe because pro wrestling isn't a sport. No, I remember, it was because that movie was terrible. Now back to my weeping; wonder if Press Your Luck is on...


*Possibly my girliest feature is that I had to stop watching The Price is Right several years ago, because I burst into tears every time somebody won. I was getting too dehydrated and emotionally wrecked every day to go on viewing the show. Besides, I don't like Drew Carey.