Dear Kid,

Guess what I did this past weekend? I went to a college rugby game.

I was (of course) there to see my favorite future athletic trainer work the game.

I particularly wanted to see something spectacularly colorful but ultimately insignificant happen so that I’d know the Kid was learning something. (This led to my friend saying, “Enjoy the rugby game. I hope someone gets hurt.”)

I don’t know why, but that reminds me of this:

It was snowing, windy, and about 28 degrees, so I was quite happy to find a parking space right near the end of the field from whence I could watch the game in relative comfort.

I may have witnessed the least injury-filled rugby game in the history of rugby.

No one understands rugby because it was (we think) invented in England where they have a history of creating sports no one understands (looking at you, Cricket). We know that rugby can be played with either 7 players on a side or 15 players on a side (although typically not at the same time) and that the traditional striped rugby shirt was very popular in the 70s. A game without mud is considered a failure and a game without injuries is considered unsporting. A game without alcohol immediately afterward is nonexistent.

Oh sure, there was mud. And yelling. And several dudes getting up from the bottoms of various piles looking a bit dazed. And Our Boys won, so yay.

But there weren’t any interesting injuries. There weren’t even any uninteresting injuries. The highly developed medical assistance skills waiting on the side in of the field in the cold were not called upon.

Until about 5 minutes before the end of the game when one of the other team’s players went down with a splat and didn’t immediately bounce back up. (Fact: Rugby players may be big, but they are very Tigger-like in their bouncability.) After another moment or two, I thought “Oh good. I’ll see the Kid in action.”

Just as I thought that, the player got to his feet and lumbered off the field, and I thought, “Oh good. I’ll see the Kid in action on the sidelines.”

Do you know what an injured ruby player does? He does not head over to the athletic trainer’s table for assistance, oh no. He decides to walk it off. When that fails, he sits down. When that doesn’t help any more than the walking, he shrugs, gets up, takes his rugby shoes to the car, turns to his cell phone, and begins to take selfies.

When the athletic trainer (aka the Kid) brings him a Helpful Bag of Ice, do you know what he does? He takes the bag politely, thanks the Kid, places the ice bag on his injured knee (while standing) for 1.387 seconds, then stands there holding it (not anywhere near the injury) cheering on his team to defeat, all the while thinking that it will be much easier to deal with the pain (and the defeat) as soon as he’s drunk. (Probably also hoping that the team will finish quickly so he can begin that medical journey as soon as possible.)

So that’s what I saw. The Kid delivering ice. But very well-qualified and well-bagged ice.

Note: Turns out there was also a pretty significant nosebleed that required nose plugs, but I didn’t know about that until much later.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Happy, happy me.

Three huge cheers for the Arizona Cardinals (who might now be my second favorite Football team) for hiring the first female coach in the NFL.

They have hired Dr. Jen Welter, whose only flaw seems to be that she went to the wrong college in Boston.

Know this: she can kick your butt—in a lot of ways. She played rugby at that unmentionable school, played pro football for 14 seasons, and was a running back for indoor football. Yes, the boys’ team.

In the article My Friend the Internet shared with me, she was quoted as saying, “I want little girls everywhere to grow up knowing they can do anything, even play football.”

As the mom of a girl who played football, that’s not what I want. I want men everywhere to know that girls can do anything, even play football. I want boys and girls to know that which restroom you use is not what defines you—it only defines what gossip you are privy to.

I also want boys and girls to know that football players don’t have to be stupid (although in high school it seems to help—you knew I couldn’t resist). This woman has a masters and a PhD. She is athletic, she is feisty, she is willing to break barriers (the social and mental kinds), and she is smart.

Being smart is cool. Being successful is cool.

Going to the Other College Down the Street is not, but at least she didn’t play ice hockey.

According to the aforementioned article, the football players are ready to get to work with her. Three cheers for them for being smart enough to recognize talent.

So to @jwelter47 from all of us who at one time or another have been the only woman in the room: Best of Everything. We’re standing there with you and can’t wait to see the great things you accomplish.

And to the leadership and players of the Cardinals @AZCardinals: Congrats on being smart. Wishing you a great season. Please don’t beat the Bengals.

Love, Mom