Sitting in on my son’s guitar lesson always amazes me. I love guitar music and when I was a child, my Grandad attempted to teach me how to play. I wish I had been more committed. I can barely remember anything from the random lessons I forced myself to sit through. You see, I wasn’t interested in learning. I just wanted to hear him play. My Grandad was a brilliant banjo player and for most of the lesson I would beg him to play songs that I loved. And he would delight me even more when he sang too. Regrettably, all that fooling around left little time for me to learn the art myself.
Anyway, my son’s lessons – I watch his tutor playing the guitar and I sit in amazed awe at the fantastic sounds, the melodies that come out when he strums away with speed and agility.
Liewise, when I watch rugby, I sit in amazed wonder but with quite different feelings. Last night I watched part of the game between England and France and I just shook my head at the primitive ridiculousness of it all. I just kept asking . . . what’s that all about or what’s the point in that. Watching the big games is not the same as watching my son play rugby because he’s still playing tag but I might feel differently next year when he moves up to contact.
My husband told me there is an old saying . . . football is a gentleman’s game played by hooligans and rugby is a hooligan’s game played by gentlemen.
The rules of football forbid practically any player-to-player contact but the players don’t cope well when decisions go against them often resulting in them throwing aggressive tantrums followed by the whole team surrounding the referee, protesting and cursing like spoilt brats. They also display superb theatrical dives when they’ve been tripped up. And if they get even slightly hurt – my goodness! What babies they are!
In contrast, rugby is a full-on contact sport that involves the risk of serious injury. There is much grabbing of each others dangly bits, some mighty crashing of bodies and lots of punching and kneeing beneath the
group hugs scrums. But the players rarely defy the referee or question his decisions. The ref’s word is final. They accept it like true gents and play on.
Now which would I prefer my little boy to play?
Why, the guitar of course!