Gentlemen and Hooligans

I saw my first full rugby match on Tuesday. I have in fact seen bits and pieces of other rugby matches (mainly at Girton since many of my friends here at Wolfson Court play on Girton’s team), but as of last week I had yet to sit down and watch a whole match. In November I learned that there are two big rivalrous sports events between Oxford and Cambridge every year. One, is the annual Boat Race, which takes place in April. The other is the annual Varsity Rugby Match.

PAYING THE PRICE FOR WAITING
Every year, the Varsity Match is played at Twickenham Stadium – an 80,000 person capacity Stadium on the outskirts of London. In November, I neglected to pay the £8 ticket price when I heard about the match because I had heard there were some special seats offered to students for only £1. Well, the weekend before the match tickets were being sold online for £18. I asked around and asked around and finally found someone with tickets – the local sports shop. I found a buddy (Evan) to accompany me to the match and then bought two tickets on Monday morning (the day before the match). The £10 per ticket fee got ME a seat on one side of the stadium and Evan a seat on the other – D’oh! It reminded me of an old Colombian adage that I learned from my European traveling companion, Alejandro: “Un pajaro en el mano es mejor que cien volando” (translation: “A bird in the hand is better than a hundred flying.”) Needless to say, I should have bought the tickets when they were £8!!!


A NIGHT IN LONDON

Later that afternoon, Evan texted me on my phone to see if I wanted to go to London that night instead of the next day. Our Wolfson Court friend, Diego (a half Spanish half French fellow) has an apartment there and had apparently offered it up to us. So a few hours later I grabbed a peanut butter and banana sandwich (the meal which I consume thrice daily when the dining hall is closed), some warm clothes, and a couple of Tetley’s to share with Evan on the train into London (it’s perfectly acceptable in Europe to drink in public).

Diego’s 14th floor apartment was a cozy place with huge picture windows on opposite sides of the apartment offering quite a view of downtown London. Since Diego lives in Cambridge, his apartment was more of a getaway and thus had many of the expected bachelor pad amenities, including a three liter bottle of Vodka – a birthday present from his friends, purchased in the United Arab Emirates of all places! After we arrived, we helped Diego whittle away at his present by drinking one of his special spiced cocktails. After a few drinks, we wandered around Soho looking for a suitable restaurant for dinner. Since we had two vegetarians in our party, we ended up eating at one of what appeared to be a handful of vegetarian restaurants in Soho. For £5 it was an all you can eat Chinese buffet, complete with mock duck, mock chicken, and mock shrimp. Two plates later, I was stuffed.

Next we headed to some bar/club where Diego’s friend was celebrating his birthday. At the party Diego spilled the beans about a purchase he had made the other day. After doing a bit of research and giving in to a passion that clearly could not be quashed, Diego bought the last old-style double decker bus in London. After a few laughs and inquiries about what the hell he was going to do with his new double decker bus, we headed home so Diego could make it up to Cambridge early in the morning and so Evan and I could enjoy some of London before the big match.


AN ESSENTIAL MODE OF TRANSPORT

What we enjoyed before the game was something we all wish we could do more of – sliding. Like me, German installation artist Carsten Holler sees slides as “an essential mode of transport.” Unfortunately, he beat me to the punch by creating a massive slide exhibition at the Tate Modern Museum – Britain's national museum of international modern art. On our way to the match Evan and I decided to stop by the Tate to do some sliding.

Although the slides were impressive, a burlap sack for sliders to sit on meant the slides were also really fast. Thus, the the exhilarating slide only lasted a few seconds.

To our surprise, as we waited in line to do some more sliding, we learned from a fellow slider that Twickenham stadium was in fact not very close by. Rather, the stadium required that we take the tube [subway] to Waterloo Station and then a 30 minute train ride to Twickenham, a town outside of London.

“So we should probably leave pretty soon if we want to make the 2:00 pm start of the match,” Evan asked.

“You’re probably going to want to leave right this minute if you want to make the match,” informed the Englishmen.

As we rushed to the stadium we realized we had yet to acquire any beer or food with which we were planning to uphold an American Football tradition by sneaking it into the stadium and avoiding the exorbitantly priced provisions sold at the stadium. So on our way we picked up some tall cans of English brew and a falafel or two and made our way to Twickenham.


*For more info on the slide exhibition, check out this link:
http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/arts/article-23370134-details/The+Tate's+30mph+twisters/article.do

THE MATCH


Although the match was well attended (about 40,000 people) for the 125th annual Match between Oxford and Cambridge, Evan and I were both a little disappointed with the civility displayed by the crowd. Sure there was some singing and cheering but overall there were few if any die-hard fans in the crowd. We did see some die hard players, including some that got in a bit of a brawl shortly after the match commenced, but overall, we still were a little disappointed. The actual match was quite interesting and I did appreciate the game itself, but Evan, on the other hand, was not impressed.

The crowd (at least where I was sitting) came to their feet by the end of the match when Cambridge won, but amazingly, there was hardly any celebration in the stands or on the field. Most everyone just filed out of the stadium and back towards the pubs and trains (which presumably took the fans to other pubs throughout London).

On the train ride home that night, I was reminded of something an Englishmen once told me,

“Football (soccer) is a game for gentlemen played by hooligans. Rugby is a game for hooligans played by gentlemen.”

I think Evan, who plays for Girton’s football team, would disagree. But nevertheless we could both agree that, aside from at least two Americans in the stands, there were not enough hooligans in the stands at the 125th Varsity Match.