If you don't want to get flogged, you have to tackle.

Recently we gave into the slave that is Saturday Morning Sport.

The sport of choice? Rugby. 

Which means our Friday nights have been toned down a notch as we are up at a sparrows fart searching for mouth guards and head gear. This morning we got to the field very early. There was a coffee van present which pleased me enormously.

There was also an impressive range of leather boots on display.

Note to self. Converse not good for soppy grounds. Rookie mistake!

I made nice with the other mums as the kids spent some time before the game trying to knock each other out with these enormous pads. I took the opportunity to do a little wallet and handbag inventory. I made the decision to cull of of those loyalty cards. The Myer One Card, the Bakers Delight Card that I have been carrying around for 2 years and have never had used. The 8 coffee cards. My wallet felt much lighter.

Then, at the bottom of my handbag, I found another pirate patch. Which was freakin perfect as Harry's Team is called The Pirates. The game was about to start and I looked more than the part on the side line, even in my sopping cons.

I make no apologies for the greasy hair and lack of makeup. It was early. But I will make the picture smaller so you do not get too frightened.

"GO PIRATES!" I hollered, until Mr Woog came across the field and made me take the patch off.

It was a spirited game in which Mosman annihilated the Pirates like it was nobodies business. It was a complete white wash. I found out from one of the Mosman mums that this particular team had been playing together since they were 4. Their game plan was to pass the ball to this big blonde unit, who looked about 17, and he would slice through the Pirates like a hot knife through butter.

There was a little post-match meeting where the two coaches pointed out the myriad of reasons why the team fucked up so badly.  The one that will stick with me was, "If you don't want to get flogged you have to tackle...." 

I call that a lesson in life, Coach.

I did the whole, "As long as you had a good time.." speech and headed over to the sausage sizzle.

But I think that there were three other things I took away from by debut sidelining Rugby mum gig.

1. Despite sounding like Damir Dovic on the sidelines, I know jack-shit about the rules of Rugby.
2. You get "looks" from people when you are over-enthusiastically supporting your little darling.
3. Next time Mr Woog might think about using my Pirate Patch as a mouth gag, instead of confiscating it.

A you a Saturday Sport Slave? 

What's YOUR game?

Are you proud of your darlings?

Or hang your head in shame.....