How I've become hooked on this strange, brutal, elegant game called rugby since arriving in Scotland

Bean Town turned my life into sports galore amid the effervescence of the city’s basketball, baseball, ice hockey, and American football teams. But, just as I was grasping the rules of the games, I moved to Edinburgh.

Initially, I thought rugby was American football without pads and the ball thrown backwards. It looked brutal and sounded like one of those bone-crushing, can’t look, one-eye-half-closed sports, which made these rugby players seem superhuman.

Many of my local friends played rugby in school and share a passion for it comparable to the global love for football. Last winter, we shared nights at the pub watching the Six Nations.

An emotional rollercoaster

Chatting away, I was silently doubtful about how I would feel about the violence as the games played in the background. But catching glimpses of the screen, I began asking questions.

Somewhere between the sticky floor and the crowds gathered around the screen, I found myself cheering and gasping, riding a rollercoaster of emotions and excited to be back in the pub for the next game.

During my annual pondering of what to get my father for his birthday, I settled on tickets to last November’s Scotland vs South Africa match during the Autumn Nations Series.

My father is getting to the age where my memories of time with him are everything to me. As we walked into Murrayfield, my breath puffed clouds into the cold afternoon air. We found our seats a few feet from the pitch, where some of the players were already warming up.

Getting a closer look at them, I got the impression that if I were to run into one of them, I’d bounce like a rubber ball off a wall.

Scotland and South Africa fans sat intermingled in sprinkles of blue and green. A young boy in our section offered little flags to his fellow South African fans. When he came to me, I spied in his eyes the hesitation when he could not tell if I was on his team because of my incognito clothing. So he skipped me altogether and moved on to the couple sitting next to me.

Primal, animalistic yet controlled

The whistle blew, kicking off the match to a roaring cheer. The crowd fell silent as our combined eyes focused on the ball. My back stiffened at the sound of grunting bodies slamming against each other before hitting the ground – my first experience with this kind of human collision, this raw, aggressive contact. There is something primal, almost animalistic, about rugby yet so controlled and elegant.

There is immense strength and power, balanced with speed and agility, all made to look effortless. That is until you see the player’s chest inflating and deflating from the heavy breathing and a few red spots of blood mixed with sweat trickling down their faces.

My adrenaline spiked when someone got the ball and ran for it, dodging tackles and sprinting towards the try line. From our seats, I couldn’t quite tell where the end of the field was, so I’d often stand up, thinking they had scored, only to realise they still had about ten or 20 meters to go.

On one such silly occasion, I spotted Scotland number 10, Finn Russell. My friends who introduced me to rugby recommended I watch Netflix’s Full Contact. From the producers of Drive to Survive, the series offers a behind-the-scenes look at the Six Nations Championship featuring key players like Russell as well as Ireland’s Johnny Sexton and Andrew Porter, and England’s Owen Farrell.

Dubbed the ‘Netflix effect,’ sports documentaries have become a popular recruitment tool. F1 saw a 56 per cent growth in younger fans, inspiring other sports to follow suit. The Rugby World Cup 2023 in France became the most-viewed rugby event of all time, demonstrating the sport’s growing global presence.

The impossible comeback

Watching rugby on a screen couldn’t have prepared me for the visceral, live spectacle, the pyrotechnics, the thunderous crowd, the rush of scoring, and the energy vibrating throughout the stadium. Tackle after tackle and some scrapes, blood and bruises later, the moon shone like a spotlight above Murrayfield.

By the second half, Scotland were trailing behind but still hopeful. That’s when Journey’s song Don’t Stop Believin’ came on during a reset, swiftly followed by Cher’s Believe. Wouldn’t it be grand if something miraculous happened? But alas, not even Cher could will a win.

I don’t know when I forgot about the chilly air, the bloodied, bruised bodies, the overwhelming smell of beer, the emails I had yet to send, the lover who had yet to respond, and the news of elections around the globe.

I watched the clock run out, wanting more. I wanted the impossible. I wanted Scotland to make a comeback. I wanted the underdog story. I sat beside my father, not recognising how much I cared about a group of men colliding while chasing a ball until he laughed and said he’d seen a new side of me that day.

Rugby snuck into my life. Behind the poker face, I may risk becoming the little boy with the flags or my friends at the pub.

France and Wales will kick off the 2025 Six Nations Championship on January 31, with Scotland hosting Italy at Murrayfield the following day, and Ireland facing England in Dublin. Season two of Full Contact is scheduled for release on January 29. All dates in my diary.

And perhaps this season, I’ll get to walk home riding a wave of euphoria. I can’t wait.