FW: What USC Rugby means to you - Tom Wright '65
Dominic Riebli
In a continuation of the series, I’ve asked some distinguished alums to share their thoughts on their time at SC. This week’s submission comes from Tom Wright ’65. I had the pleasure of meeting Tom for the first time at the alumni dinner and I’m grateful for it.
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From: Tom Wright []
Sent: Wednesday, November 28, 2018 5:12 PM
To: Dominic Riebli <dominic...@gmail.com>
Subject: Re: What USC Rugby means to you - Jeff Bundschu '90
Greetings Dominic;
A few fading memories of rugby at SC from Tom Wright, class of ’65……
I was walking by Cromwell Field in the spring of ’63 and saw the curious sight of guys in USC FB jerseys and shorts running with a fat brown oblate ball and tackling each other. A former HS footballer, I was trying to make sense of it. I assumed it was varsity spring tackling practice without pads. Being from a small town on the central coast, the sport of rugby was completely foreign.
Long story short: after my first practice I was captivated and remember being amazed at the purity and fluidity of the sport compared to my football experience. No plays, no huddle, simply run the ball, avoid tackles and pass, if necessary, on the way to a 3 point try; (they were 3 in those days). I found the informality extended to friendliness and respect towards opponents on the pitch and after matches; another foreign concept for me.
Our coach was a balding English Chemistry Professor, Dave Robinson. He was quiet but respected, particularly for his patience!
As now, rugby was a club sport, but we must have had support either from the school or alumni, because we travelled by bus to Cal, Stanford, UCLA. Because rugby wasn’t a common sport at nearby colleges, our opponents included club sides: LA Rugby Club, Eagle Rock RC, et al played on Cromwell. These were not lads. We faced 30 year old+ semi-pro footballers and some were not gentlemen.
Since Coach Robinson knew how important the after-match social customs were to our rugby education, and possibly because this was a fringe sport, we regularly sipped a few ice teas post-match and sang the songs. On at least a few occasions, I remember on the bus rides home, when the bus slowed, a torrent of pre-aluminum beer cans would roll down the aisle. Coach Robinson, seated in the front row, would turn his gaze toward the back of the bus and wearily shake hie head…..patience!
On a trip to play Cal, we squeezed in a match with the Olympic Club in SF and were hosted wearing coats and ties at their posh downtown club. More rugby cultural exposure…..
My senior year, an incident at the storied Monterey Rugby Tournament stands out. It had rained a solid week before, and the pitches were under water. By the time we played Notre Dame, everyone on both sides was a mud ball. At half-time, the ref called a meeting of the captains. Expecting the match would be called, we were eagerly anticipating a hot shower. Showers we got. The ref wasn’t able to tell the teams apart, so ordered everyone showered, in uniform, before the game would proceed.
To this day, I can’t properly say why the game was my mistress for many years to come. Was it because when I was on the pitch as a hunter, or being hunted, was the only time I felt truly ALIVE? Was it camaraderie? At 75 I count my closet friends as former teammates, and now fellow travelers……..
I’ve been immensely enriched by the sport.
Stay with it lads! I played my last match as scrum-half at 59.
Kind regards,
Tom