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It’s already seventy degrees at 9:30 am, which means today’s sevens game is going to be a hot one. Thankfully we only play fourteen-minute games instead of eighty minutes like in a standard fifteens match.
Rugby in the summer is always for fun. The games don’t matter and they don’t count for anything. You can whore out for any team you want, but I usually stick with a smaller version of my DI club team. In the summer, The Philadelphia Men’s Rugby Team turns into The Philly Fathers when we show up at sevens tournaments. We claim the name has meaning rooted in the country's founding fathers—but really it was for the sexual innuendos.
The Daddy jokes are endless.
Make a great tackle? Cheer for your teammate by whimpering, “Yes, Daddy!”
Get lifted in a line-out by only one teammate? “You’re so strong, Daddy!”
Make a perfect spiral pass to your backline? “I love your hands, Daddy!”
Is it weird to hear Angie’s brothers say that to each other? Yes. But we’re all perverted and it makes everyone laugh.Rugby players by and large are deeply unserious people.
“Okay, I gotta get ready,” I say to Angie as I help her lay a quilt on the grass.
“Wait, there’s Cora and the guys.” She points just ahead as they make their way towards us. “We have to tell them now, Raf. I can’t hold it in any longer.”
I chuckle, “Okay. We can tell them.” We abandon the quilt and meet up with the trio a little bit further away from any unnecessary audience.
Immediately Cora and Angie go in for a hug and I give the guys a quick embrace and thank them for coming to watch.
“How are you feeling?” Cora asks, concern written all over her face. “You scared the shit out of us last weekend.”
“Yeah, um,” she nervously giggles and then to my surprise, she wraps her arm around my waist and before I can even set my hand on her shoulder, she spills it. “Apparently, I’m pregnant and Rafael is the father.”
The three of them stare at us like we’re aliens.
Cora looks from Ang to me, then back again as I give my biggest smiling wince, waiting for her to say something.
Finally, she throws her hands into her hair and screams, “What?”
“I’m going to faint,” Jay exhales, dramatically grabbing his chest and Marco’s at the same time.
“I knew something was up,” Marco smirks.
“You did not,” Angie accuses.
“Let’s go, guys,” Coach Batsakis yells from down the field. “Take a lap and get movin!”
Feeling guilty, I give Angie a quick hug and start jogging back to the rest of my team. “I’m sorry, guys, I gotta go. I’ll see you between games.”
“You can’t just throw that out there and then ditch us!” Jay calls.
Twisting around, I shout back, “I’m ditching you guys, not her!”
Alright, so not the ideal way to tell our friends we’re having a baby, but if that’s what Ang needed, I’ll give it to her.
It’s time to focus though. I’ve been distracted all week, but now that we’ve told our secret to someone, I’m a little lighter and more confident. That is until Jared Holloway—aka Hollow—comes into view, pulling one of our jerseys over his long dirty blonde hair.
Wasn’t expecting him. I thought he played for Trenton, New Jersey? I’m playing prop today, so I bend down and grab the number one jersey when Hollow spots me.
“Jimmy!” he exclaims with that ever-present smile I’ve always wanted to smack off. “Hey man. How’ya been?”
My nickname progression goes as follows: Jimenez—Jimmy (keeping the Spanish J). It’s a short progression.
“I’ve been alright.” We start on our lap around the field and Hollow stays next to me. Ugh.
“You just moved back from DC right?”
