World's worst Hooker

RAAAH! HULK SMASH HULK SMASH! I've been a little frustrated today and yesterday because my right knee is hurting and a little stiff and my right foot and ankle are all stiff from meditating. It isn't that bad, but I'm kind of angry at myself for running. I stretched a lot, but try telling that to my reproachful eyes. I thought of E to give me courage and am going to buy a knee brace and keep RICE-ing it.

I once joined a rugby team because my friends invited me and I had it confused with lacrosse. Imagine my surprise when there were no sticks. I was absolutely terrified of getting hit, and I literally bounced off the front of girls whenever I tried to tackle. I carried fake Halloween blood in my pocket the one game they wanted to put me in (they didn't), just in case I was getting hit too much. I wondered why blood was dripping from my pocket the next day in English class. Did I mention that I didn't believe in underage drinking? Apparently rugby people enjoy alcohol. At every afterparty I would carry my glass of water and sit in a corner.

My coach never explained the basics of the game to me, so whenever I went on the field the other players would just yell until I got in the right spot. I kept waiting for someone to take me aside and explain the rules better than "today we're going to run an Elephant Fire Truck Fleaflicker to the left, GO!", but somehow it never happened. I was busy working and going to school, and wikipedia was no help. The season ended with a drunken speech from my coach about how I was "the backbone of the team, and you'll take us all to Disneyland." I was the world's worst Hooker, but I stubbornly finished out that damned season with my cups of water. Rugby was good exercise.

p.s. Patrick, there is a playground, but no bars for incline pullups.