thedrifter
03-25-08, 08:28 AM
Rapid Deployment
As Players Come and Go, the Passion Remains for the Quantico Hooligans
By Jeff Nelson
Special to The Washington Post
Tuesday, March 25, 2008; E01
As the Quantico Hooligans walk off the field, the first 30 minutes of their first spring game complete, they appear no different than any other rugby team. Maj. John Kelley is still bleeding from a gash above his eye. Capt. Todd Jacobs is sporting a makeshift eye patch after his contact lens was knocked out. Something isn't quite right in 1st Lt. Barrett Dupuy's knee, and there are two parallel streaks of blood down his shin, souvenirs from an opponent's cleats.
Even those who don't have a specific injury acknowledge the razors in their lungs from inhaling 25 mph winds on a chilly morning.
To an outside observer, the idea of the Hooligans playing another 30 minutes in this game, let alone two more in the same day, seems absurd. But any such suggestion is treated as an affront to their manliness, a foolish remark dismissed with a shake of the head.
In part, this attitude can be attributed to their sport. But even more so, it's because almost all of them are active or former Marines. They know pain, and they know not to display weakness among their teammates, especially as nearly all of them continue to get to know each other.
This unfamiliarity, at least initially, is what makes the Hooligans unique. Although club teams from every sport in the transient Washington area experience turnover to some degree, the Hooligans lose roughly 60 to 70 percent of their roster from fall to spring, spring to fall, season after season.
Because of who they are and what they do, they are stuck in a cycle that forever puts them at a disadvantage, forcing them to start from scratch twice a year. And yet, because of who they are and what they do, they are uniquely equipped to overcome such a disadvantage -- and on some days, even flourish.
This does not appear to be one of those days. The wind is picking up at the hilltop field, located deep in Prince George's County's Colmar Manor Park, just across the D.C. border. And as the Hooligans try to stay warm and tend to their wounds, it is halftime in the first game of the Spring Thaw Tournament and they are losing, 12-7.
The Quantico rugby club has been around for 35 years, and even at its best, it is not among the region's elite. The Hooligans play in Division III, the lowest in the Potomac Rugby Union, and their 40-year-old coach, Lt. Col. Jon Jacobs, said they will not move up in the foreseeable future. Division II clubs need to have an A and B team, which requires more depth than the Hooligans can hope to attain.
During one stretch in the middle of the decade, when Jacobs said "the planets aligned" and a handful of good players were able to stay on the base for multiple seasons, the Hooligans were at the top of their division. But at Quantico Marine Base, known as the "Crossroads of the Marine Corps," such things are not meant to last.
Some members finish school or training and head to another base in the United States. Some are sent on tours of duty to England or Egypt or Okinawa. Others head to Iraq or Afghanistan. Last fall, the team lost five players in midseason because of deployments to Iraq. "And four of them were key guys," said Jacobs, who also plays.
As a result, the Hooligans play a constant numbers game, which eventually leads to one of two results each Saturday: They get enough guys to play, or they don't get enough and forfeit.
To stay ahead in that game, Jacobs said he "spams" members of an e-mail list containing more than 100 names. Most are Marines, some are members of other military branches who are stationed at Quantico, and a few are civilians from the area.
The Hooligans need a minimum of 15 players for each game, but because every person can't show up every time, nearly twice that number must commit to playing at some point in the season.
Considering how many Marines work long hours and have families to spend time with on the weekends, finding enough able bodies is no easy task, even before midseason deployments. That weighs on Jacobs's mind, so he's always searching for more players -- no matter their experience -- and he encourages his current players to recruit.
"Everyone knows somebody who's played before," he told the team at the Spring Thaw. "And everyone knows somebody who you look at and say, 'This guy could play rugby.' Help me. Help the team build some depth. Anybody can come out here and play. Anybody."
'Shared Pain'
At the beginning of each season, when newcomers to the game don't know what they're doing in practice, when passes are missed and there's no fluidity to the attack, Jacobs's affinity for the Hooligans keeps him going.
He loves the camaraderie of socials after every Thursday practice, when the team heads to Sam's, a bar in the town of Quantico.
He loves the "shared pain," of moments like the Hooligans' first night together this season, when they sprinted the length of an unlit field 12 times after what was listed as an "organizational meeting."
Most of all, he loves fostering an atmosphere that leads to stories like the one of Capt. Rob Dolan, who a few years ago, after a traumatic childhood, found a father figure in one of Jacobs's predecessors, former coach Lt. Col. Bob McCarthy.
Even now, with Dolan on a base in Yuma, Ariz., and McCarthy stationed in Iraq, their days as Hooligans tie them together. "I'll drive three hours to [San Diego], California, to see his wife while he's deployed and to see his dogs and children, to see how they're doing," Dolan said.
To Jacobs, that's the meaning of this team, and it's the kind of thing he wants advertised, especially to his superiors at Quantico.
He said the Hooligans don't have the best reputation on base -- "They think of [us as] beer-swilling maniacs," he said -- and he wants that perception to change.
Jacobs is putting together a binder chronicling the Hooligans' history, the way they organize and the myriad administrative details he takes care of. He wants to make sure it's all written down for whoever succeeds him.
After 19 years in the Marines, he has 18 months left. When it's over, he doesn't know exactly what he'll do or where he'll go. But he's sure this binder needs to be in someone's hands.
"My biggest motivation is to see that what the guys before me and hopefully what I've maintained, I'd like to see it sustained," Jacobs said. "And I've tried to engage the officials on base and say, 'When I retire, Quantico rugby shouldn't die.' "
The Passion Shows
As the Hooligans start the second half, Barrett Dupuy's shin still is more red than white, but his knee feels better, so he decides to keep playing.
"I'm fine," he says to teammates, without further explanation.
At 26, the former walk-on football player at Louisiana State is a co-captain. He will be at Quantico for one more year before transferring to another base, but if he ever returns here, he can see himself back on the Hooligans, maybe in a leadership role.
In just four seasons, he already has Jacobs's passion for the team.
"It becomes more than just going out and playing on Tuesdays and Thursdays and Saturdays," he said. "It's something you think about in your off time."
Walking tentatively at first, Dupuy joins his teammates and the Hooligans start to make progress against their opponent, the Washington Irish. Passes that earlier in the game were dropped, or missed altogether, are leading to movement down the field.
The team that looked raw and disjointed in practices only days before now has the appearance of veterans as they wear down the Irish. Soon, they score.
After the Irish re-take the lead, Dupuy makes a run up the middle and puts the Hooligans back on top. A few minutes later, the Irish miss a potential go-ahead kick. The Hooligans win -- and against a Division II team, no less.
They go on to lose their next game to the reigning champion of Division III, but they end the day with another victory.
Afterward, Jacobs gathers everyone by the side of the field, where they can crouch down and get a small reprieve from the wind.
There is still much to improve, he tells the players, and they need to make sure they get enough people next week. But at this moment, the Hooligans are somehow 2-1 at the beginning of yet another season. And spring only promises to get warmer.
"That," Jacobs tells his men, "was the best start to a season I've seen in a long time."
Ellie
As Players Come and Go, the Passion Remains for the Quantico Hooligans
By Jeff Nelson
Special to The Washington Post
Tuesday, March 25, 2008; E01
As the Quantico Hooligans walk off the field, the first 30 minutes of their first spring game complete, they appear no different than any other rugby team. Maj. John Kelley is still bleeding from a gash above his eye. Capt. Todd Jacobs is sporting a makeshift eye patch after his contact lens was knocked out. Something isn't quite right in 1st Lt. Barrett Dupuy's knee, and there are two parallel streaks of blood down his shin, souvenirs from an opponent's cleats.
Even those who don't have a specific injury acknowledge the razors in their lungs from inhaling 25 mph winds on a chilly morning.
To an outside observer, the idea of the Hooligans playing another 30 minutes in this game, let alone two more in the same day, seems absurd. But any such suggestion is treated as an affront to their manliness, a foolish remark dismissed with a shake of the head.
In part, this attitude can be attributed to their sport. But even more so, it's because almost all of them are active or former Marines. They know pain, and they know not to display weakness among their teammates, especially as nearly all of them continue to get to know each other.
This unfamiliarity, at least initially, is what makes the Hooligans unique. Although club teams from every sport in the transient Washington area experience turnover to some degree, the Hooligans lose roughly 60 to 70 percent of their roster from fall to spring, spring to fall, season after season.
Because of who they are and what they do, they are stuck in a cycle that forever puts them at a disadvantage, forcing them to start from scratch twice a year. And yet, because of who they are and what they do, they are uniquely equipped to overcome such a disadvantage -- and on some days, even flourish.
This does not appear to be one of those days. The wind is picking up at the hilltop field, located deep in Prince George's County's Colmar Manor Park, just across the D.C. border. And as the Hooligans try to stay warm and tend to their wounds, it is halftime in the first game of the Spring Thaw Tournament and they are losing, 12-7.
The Quantico rugby club has been around for 35 years, and even at its best, it is not among the region's elite. The Hooligans play in Division III, the lowest in the Potomac Rugby Union, and their 40-year-old coach, Lt. Col. Jon Jacobs, said they will not move up in the foreseeable future. Division II clubs need to have an A and B team, which requires more depth than the Hooligans can hope to attain.
During one stretch in the middle of the decade, when Jacobs said "the planets aligned" and a handful of good players were able to stay on the base for multiple seasons, the Hooligans were at the top of their division. But at Quantico Marine Base, known as the "Crossroads of the Marine Corps," such things are not meant to last.
Some members finish school or training and head to another base in the United States. Some are sent on tours of duty to England or Egypt or Okinawa. Others head to Iraq or Afghanistan. Last fall, the team lost five players in midseason because of deployments to Iraq. "And four of them were key guys," said Jacobs, who also plays.
As a result, the Hooligans play a constant numbers game, which eventually leads to one of two results each Saturday: They get enough guys to play, or they don't get enough and forfeit.
To stay ahead in that game, Jacobs said he "spams" members of an e-mail list containing more than 100 names. Most are Marines, some are members of other military branches who are stationed at Quantico, and a few are civilians from the area.
The Hooligans need a minimum of 15 players for each game, but because every person can't show up every time, nearly twice that number must commit to playing at some point in the season.
Considering how many Marines work long hours and have families to spend time with on the weekends, finding enough able bodies is no easy task, even before midseason deployments. That weighs on Jacobs's mind, so he's always searching for more players -- no matter their experience -- and he encourages his current players to recruit.
"Everyone knows somebody who's played before," he told the team at the Spring Thaw. "And everyone knows somebody who you look at and say, 'This guy could play rugby.' Help me. Help the team build some depth. Anybody can come out here and play. Anybody."
'Shared Pain'
At the beginning of each season, when newcomers to the game don't know what they're doing in practice, when passes are missed and there's no fluidity to the attack, Jacobs's affinity for the Hooligans keeps him going.
He loves the camaraderie of socials after every Thursday practice, when the team heads to Sam's, a bar in the town of Quantico.
He loves the "shared pain," of moments like the Hooligans' first night together this season, when they sprinted the length of an unlit field 12 times after what was listed as an "organizational meeting."
Most of all, he loves fostering an atmosphere that leads to stories like the one of Capt. Rob Dolan, who a few years ago, after a traumatic childhood, found a father figure in one of Jacobs's predecessors, former coach Lt. Col. Bob McCarthy.
Even now, with Dolan on a base in Yuma, Ariz., and McCarthy stationed in Iraq, their days as Hooligans tie them together. "I'll drive three hours to [San Diego], California, to see his wife while he's deployed and to see his dogs and children, to see how they're doing," Dolan said.
To Jacobs, that's the meaning of this team, and it's the kind of thing he wants advertised, especially to his superiors at Quantico.
He said the Hooligans don't have the best reputation on base -- "They think of [us as] beer-swilling maniacs," he said -- and he wants that perception to change.
Jacobs is putting together a binder chronicling the Hooligans' history, the way they organize and the myriad administrative details he takes care of. He wants to make sure it's all written down for whoever succeeds him.
After 19 years in the Marines, he has 18 months left. When it's over, he doesn't know exactly what he'll do or where he'll go. But he's sure this binder needs to be in someone's hands.
"My biggest motivation is to see that what the guys before me and hopefully what I've maintained, I'd like to see it sustained," Jacobs said. "And I've tried to engage the officials on base and say, 'When I retire, Quantico rugby shouldn't die.' "
The Passion Shows
As the Hooligans start the second half, Barrett Dupuy's shin still is more red than white, but his knee feels better, so he decides to keep playing.
"I'm fine," he says to teammates, without further explanation.
At 26, the former walk-on football player at Louisiana State is a co-captain. He will be at Quantico for one more year before transferring to another base, but if he ever returns here, he can see himself back on the Hooligans, maybe in a leadership role.
In just four seasons, he already has Jacobs's passion for the team.
"It becomes more than just going out and playing on Tuesdays and Thursdays and Saturdays," he said. "It's something you think about in your off time."
Walking tentatively at first, Dupuy joins his teammates and the Hooligans start to make progress against their opponent, the Washington Irish. Passes that earlier in the game were dropped, or missed altogether, are leading to movement down the field.
The team that looked raw and disjointed in practices only days before now has the appearance of veterans as they wear down the Irish. Soon, they score.
After the Irish re-take the lead, Dupuy makes a run up the middle and puts the Hooligans back on top. A few minutes later, the Irish miss a potential go-ahead kick. The Hooligans win -- and against a Division II team, no less.
They go on to lose their next game to the reigning champion of Division III, but they end the day with another victory.
Afterward, Jacobs gathers everyone by the side of the field, where they can crouch down and get a small reprieve from the wind.
There is still much to improve, he tells the players, and they need to make sure they get enough people next week. But at this moment, the Hooligans are somehow 2-1 at the beginning of yet another season. And spring only promises to get warmer.
"That," Jacobs tells his men, "was the best start to a season I've seen in a long time."
Ellie