Fleas in a Jar

We had an easy one against the Philadelphia Gryphons. I respect the proper spelling.

We had a fist fight with Manchester. North England boys play hard, nasty by some standards, but that's just English Rugby. Getting punched in the face <> losing. I didn't punch anyone...I swear.

Two observations:

The Stateside teams typically don't get a full 100m x 70m pitch. They looked like trained fleas. (Put fleas in a jar, seal with lid. Over a day or so, you can take the lid off, because the fleas have been trained to jump only lid high, thus never leaving the jar.) Huge swaths of green grass unused, some matches looked like little kids playing soccer.

The Referees were invisible, as they should be. Yes, penalties and scrums were awarded. I may have created a penalty myself. However, the referees never became a factor. "Oh we lost because of the ref," just doesn't exist in Ireland. You may not know this, but NO ONE speaks to the referee outside the Captain. No one. Fascinating to watch Americans who've been cussing zebras since HS clamping down on mouthpieces.

I was going write some philo-psycho-bullshit about people living their lives in a flea jar, blaming others for their losses...

...but, instead here's a set of pics from Big Dave.