Bill with a recent Atlantic Salmon catch in Canada
It was 1977. I was in Houston, selling fine china and Irish crystal to blue-rinse ladies across the Southwest. I’d just got my green card and won a Texas Championship with the Houston Old Boys. My boss, a Welshman and former winger, called me and said “Bill, you’ll love where we’re sending you–rolling green hills like Ireland, a university town with lots of girls, and a rugby team. It’s called Ann Arbor.”
I arrived in Detroit on a cold, sleety St.Patrick’s Day. I was at my first Michigan Rugby practice soon after. I spent the next two years playing for the town-gown club as it then was, along the way winning two Big Tens with the First XV and numerous fun tournaments with the Dada XV.
I recall playing Iowa State in one final in Champaign, Illinois. They were huge, but we were gutsy and our backs evasive. They had a Leinster scrum-half and a massive deaf/mute second row who chased O’Connor all over the pitch. I remember the other final in Lansing – a muddy, bruising battle, and getting a bear hug from Herb Hopkins at the end. The celebration eventually took us to Mr. Flood’s Party and a fist fight that will go down in the annals of rugby lore.
I shared a decrepit house on Plymouth Rd. with Capt. Weber, Iron Man Hopkins, and that creator of myth, the last king of Ireland, Rory O’Connor. I recall parties, and one in particular where Rory and I went out for new supplies and didn’t get back until breakfast. And the Hookers Club, about which I was initially nonplussed – rugby guys in Hawaiian shirts in sub-zero temperatures? And of course, Frazier’s, not my favorite place, but made palatable by the burgers and conviviality.
The memories of wins and parties still linger, but what stands out thirty years later is the sense of being part of something much bigger than fifteen players. The killer Bees, the winning Cees, crusty veterans like Tom Raboine, Keith Stone, Ian Chapman, graduates like Defors, Child, Holloway, Lawson, Magee, characters like Maglocci, Kingsbury, and the McLaughlin boys, and our very own U.S.Marine and law student, Ed Carney. It was these and others,including our resident ref, Steve Cohen, whose life experiences enriched the club and helped the youngsters mature. We had a terrific sprinkling of undergrads who gave us speed, stamina, enthusiasm, and no little skill. Players like Billy Chung, Jack ?, Greg Rose, Pete Schneider, and others whose names escape me. I apologize.
Regardless of ability, all were immensely proud to wear the maize and blue and put their bodies on the line for Michigan Rugby. No TV audience, no packed stadium, just a love of the game, a share in an unbreakable bond, and memories to last a lifetime. This is demonstrably brought to life at anniversary games. Thankfully, although the advent of the Super League changed our structure and the old and the new could no longer play together, the heart of Michigan Rugby continued to beat. The bond held, tours taken, and a new generation was sustained.
Michigan Rugby has bred Eagles, Midwest representatives, and class players whose highest honor was playing for Michigan. Our experiences at the club have woven a rich, fifty year-old tapestry of fun, friendship, joy, and some tragedy, which gives us all a colorful backdrop to our now more sedate lives. It’s a cloth that refuses to fade or fray. As I reflect on what Michigan Rugby has meant to me, I’m glad I ended up in Ann Arbor, and proud that I played for Michigan. I’ve since played and captained New York Athletic Club sides, now years later perennial Super League winners. Along the way we recruited two terrific centres and individuals from Michigan, Billy Conway and Kevin Cunningham. But New York is big, ambitious, thrusting, and transient. Ann Arbor is a community, and I think we all felt we were part of that. There was something pure about playing rugby at Michigan, and perhaps that’s why I feel such a special bond. I still feel a little tug when I put on my Michigan jersey to do battle with my ageing, aching body. How fortunate I am to have had such friends and memories. Thank you, Michigan – you’ve been a great flag-bearer for friendship and rugby. Go Blue.
