Clay Cone ’82 writes:
Ode to Ned and Jack
Against Stanford University, even the Guanos (Cal’s third and fourth rugby teams) had an important part to play: to begin a three-game same-day Big Game sweep with a victory in the first game of the day . . . in 1982, played at the old California School for the Blind in the Berkeley Hills, while the Ones and the Twos would later play at the Strawberry Canyon field.
Nineteen-80’s coaches Andersen and Clark initiated postulants in what I would call ‘the art and adventure of “getting low” . . . while keeping one’s feet,’ a skill acquired through diligent practice in at times rough play, a technique prized on high in tackling sports the world over for the mechanical and ergonomic advantage it bestows.
In the 1982 series of rugby Big Games, Cal swept against Stanford. I played the first half of the first game as one of the Guanos; my play had no bearing on the outcome of that game or any other.
Although thanks to an Old Blues instructor named Johnnie who taught me how to defend against the hook in the scrum, my play ‘in the loose’ or open field was said to fall below that of our Twos hooker, Doug; and yet, of all my memories since, the loose is what I treasure most and can still envision:
Deep in his own field, the Stanford scrum half caught the game ball and advanced upfield. From 15 yards away, I as the closest Cal player marked the ball carrier. He saw my crouch toward him, then made a pivot to turn his back toward me while other players on his side set rugby support structures on each side of him, forming a V-shape with the ball carrier holding the ball in the protected space. There was my target—two sags in a pair of white canvas Stanford rugby shorts: how low could I go running my fastest and lowest from 10 yards away . . . hands ahead, chin up, forehead back, chest low toward the turf, back parallel to the ground? My 40+ year memory says that though I kept my eyes on the shorts, I had to look up to see them just before impact: my right shoulder hit both sags and my head placed outside the hips of the ball carrier on the left as my right hand grabbed the far outside of the shorts and my knees churned forward, my back I believe being straight and still parallel to the ground, my left forearm shivering the Stanford support on that side. I drove as far as I could, but I have no idea how far into the wedge I went.
My sense is that the rugby structures up against I went were illegal in nature because there was no contact before the Stanford side set its ruck; but there was no tap penalty, and play continued. I have played rugby in parts of the world known for world-class play; and yet, nothing for me compares with that memory of mine from the loose under the tutelage of Ned and Jack.
