A couple Saturdays ago J’s rugby team had a game in Munich. I guess I should have had an idea that at some point clothes would become optional (for some) when J said the team tends to lose their pants after the game, and again when we realized that the pitch (is that the right term?) was in the English Garden. For those that are as unaware of what the English Garden is know for as I once was: the English Garden is known for naked people chilling out in the sun. Although, in my personal opinion, it was a touch too cold to be laying out, but then again I’m always cold so what do I know?
I know almost nothing about rugby, which is a shame, because it’s really interesting to watch. J’s team didn’t win, sadly, but it wasn’t a horrible loss. 35 to 25. Not too bad, in my opinion. Apparently players that score for the first time are subject to being stripped down and running drills. Obviously there’s beer involved at each “station” . Would you expect anything less?
Naked dudes aside, rugby is fascinating. I like that the action doesn’t really stop unless it’s absolutely necessary, which doesn’t seem to be that often. The stop and go in American football loses my goldfish-like attention. Maybe I’ll watch a few more games and actually try to learn the rules