Match Report: USA vs. Wales

 

Saturday, June 4, 2005
Rentschler Field, East Hartford, CT

 

By an Anonymous Old Boy

 

 

 

USA 3, Wales 77. 

 

It’s not the worst defeat in Eagle’s history.  I recall, dimly, an Eagle side losing by some 100 points to England in 1999.  Fortunately, the Welsh were more charitable in their display of mercy than were the English - the score of the Wales v. USA match could have been much higher. 

 

What went wrong?  The condensed rationale was simple.  One only needed to look at the match program to figure it out.  The player profiles offered therein provided various statistical data on each of the players.  For the Welsh, the program displayed the players’ height, weight and professional rugby affiliation.  For the Americans, however, in addition to amateur rugby affiliation (a precious few had professional experience), it also gave “occupation.”  Most of these “occupations” were not rugby:  plumber, painter, electrician, accountant, etc.  Just by perusing the program, one sensed that there was a mismatch in the making, memorialized right there on paper before the game even began.  Within a few minutes after kickoff, the Welsh quickly crystallized this assumption.  By the end of the first half, it was clear the game would be a total rout. 

 

The Welsh pack commanded the scrums, and their backline ran easily against American opposition.  I don’t have the final statistics, but it seemed to me that the Eagles had a respectable showing in time of possession.  But, this was of little comfort.  The Welsh simply didn’t need much time to score their tries.  Several tries came off of no more than one or two phases. 

 

I’m not one for making excuses about losses.  To me, that’s always been the signal characteristic of the weak.  The strong take their lumps, politely shake hands with the victor, and quietly plan revenge for the next encounter.  I was brought up to believe that you don’t blame losses on refs, weather or injury.  But here, the difference between a team of professional rugby players and a team made up almost entirely of amateurs was glaring.  A good team of international amateurs will rarely hold up well against a team loaded with professionals.  Particularly when the professionals are just coming off a Six Nations Championship.  It’s not an excuse, ladies and gentlemen - it’s just a fact.  I think the Eagles did as good a job as an assortment of tradesmen and account executives could conceivably muster.  But, that doesn’t excuse, or otherwise mitigate the loss.  The Americans got harshly schooled in the world of professional rugby. 

 

Whatever hope I had for a competitive match went right out the window after Wales’ fourth or fifth try.  And so did the American crowd’s enthusiasm. 

 

So, how does a fan, particularly an American one, maintain interest in such a seemingly interminable, lopsided manhandling?  By invoking that time-honored American convention of casting aspersions at the home-team players, that’s how.

 

The antagonist role nominally held by the Welsh slowly shifted to the American players.  No one thought to insult the Welsh players.  In American logic, why would one do that?  They weren’t losing.  The Welsh were playing a great, if somewhat unchallenging game. 

The section of the stadium I sat in ended up sounding more like the right field wall at Yankee stadium than it did premium seats at an international test match.  The crowd became raucous, and the proximity of the pitch was too tantalizingly accessible for the more risible fans. 

 

Late in the match, one Eagle was changing out a boot for indeterminate reasons.  An American in the crowd bellowed in measured, deliberate cadence:  “It’s not the cleats!  It’s not the cleats!  It’s you!”  When this same Eagle completed the shoe replacement, the fan angrily roared:  “Comfy now?”  Another fan scrambled to the pitch-level railing during one throw-in, dropped to his knees, and passionately begged to the Welshmen:  “Mercy!  Mercy!”  I couldn’t see the players’ expressions clearly, but I could swear that some of the Welsh players smiled bemusedly at the display.  One Eagle appeared to shy away from punts for most of the match.  Finally, after being down by some 50-odd points, the American fans were sarcastically screaming at him:  “Watch out!  Here comes the punt!  Run for your life!”  After much haranguing from the crowd, the back finally attempted to field a punt heading for touch . . . and promptly dropped it.  I need not disclose the details of the subsequent fan reaction.  Suffice it to say that he was advised by the crowd to really stay away from the punts.  “We mean it this time!” 


The commingled Welsh fans at first appeared to be surprised by this display.  Perhaps they had never been at the business end of a 3-77 walloping.  Eventually, however, they joined in the laughter, but conspicuously (and wisely) avoided joining in the invective.  Only Americans are allowed to misuse Americans, mate.  Still, it created an atmosphere of some strange solidarity.  The Welsh fans appeared to recognize that these displays were nothing more than the defiant cry of a desperate, frustrated fan-base.  They seemed to identify with our plight, and no longer felt like opposing fans, but rather assumed a role I could no better describe than perhaps as sympathetic physician. 

 

But what truly shocked our Welsh guests was something that occurred after the match finally ended.  The Eagles approached both sides of the stadium and politely saluted the fans.  The fans gave them a standing ovation, along with the now too-familiar chant of “USA! USA! USA!”  The Welshman to my left was visibly shocked.  His jaw fell open in disbelief.  How could the Americans, after so much boisterous abuse, be so emphatic in their support of a team that lost their arses in a 3-77 match?  The answer is simplicity itself:  we were bored.  Losing, especially by so wide a margin, is boring.  Boredom creates an entertainment vacuum that is quickly filled by a comedy of “wit” that quickly infects the mob.  But, in uniquely American logic, boredom does not connote disloyalty to our team.  It is an odd paradox, but it is just what we Americans do.  Yes, it is inelegant.  No, it is not good sportsmanship.  But, it is important to note that none of the insults were meant to be deeply personal.  I’ve been at baseball games where major league players are insulted with the kind of viciousness reserved for drunken brawls in seedy taverns. 

 

Americans, I think, are a highly competitive people, and are absolutely intolerant of losing.  Americans feel that their team out on the pitch is really an extension of themselves.  If the American players are making a really crappy showing against the other team, then, by extension, so are the American fans.  So, I think I speak on behalf of my more vocal countrymen at the match:  nothing personal, guys.  We still think you’re great.  There wasn’t one of us there who could have fared any better than you did on the pitch that day.  At least you had the guts to show up and cast yourself into a situation that had a very slim chance of total success.  The Eagles will never be competitive with teams like Wales unless they play - and lose spectacularly to - teams like, well . . . Wales. 

 

And, who knows?  Perhaps one day when Wales shows up with their amateur baseball team, our big league All-Stars may just go a little easy on them, too.  And, I’m sure, even in the following 25-to-zip rout, the American fans will still be insolent to their players.  But only because we think they’re great.