Lady’s Expat Guide to Rugby in Britain

I just applied for UK citizenship. Exciting as it is to almost be a (naturalized) Brit, I also feel like I should be a bit more…well…British. As such, I’m getting involved in the things people here enjoy. Like rugby in Britain. Here’s the story…

Rugby in Britain

A friend sends me a last-minute email asking if I want to go to the rugby in Cardiff.

Wales is playing South Africa, and since I just returned from the latter, it feels like a good way to ease back into life in the UK and get some experience with a sport a lot of British people like.

Rugby in Cardiff

I pile into a car full of South Africans (and a token Frenchman…apparently they like rugby over there too, although somehow I have a hard time picturing French men doing anything so masculine. Ah, stereotypes!), and head off to Cardiff for my first experience with rugby in Britain.

We arrive in Wales in the afternoon and immediately head to the pub. Apparently this is what you do before a rugby match in Britain (and just about everything else in life in the UK).

This being no secret, the entire population of Wales and most of South Africa fills the streets.

The Millennium Stadium, where rugby is played in Cardiff, is right in the heart of the city, so all the pubs near the train station are packed with punters.

We sit down at one called Brewhouse, where we snag an outdoor table and watch the world go by.

Everyone is wearing team colors, and some have even gone as far as to paint their faces and wear crazy hats. So far it feels a lot like an American football game.

That feeling continues when we head into Millennium Stadium to watch the rugby in Cardiff.

When the match begins, I realize I know nothing about rugby in Britain (or anywhere else, for that matter) save from the few video clips I’ve seen on TV in various pubs around London.

At first I keep thinking it’s American football. Then someone kicks the ball, and I start to wonder if it’s soccer.

I use terms like “end zone” to the dismay of my South African friends, who think that term only exists in movies. They take it upon themselves to educate the foreign girl.

I start to learn the rules of rugby in Britain. The passing backwards, the scrum, the line-out.

It all makes sense after a while, and the game looks less like a “homoerotic love fest” (the words of a South African who insists on anonymity lest his countrymen banish him from their rugby-loving shores), and more like an actual sport (with some homoerotic undertones. Let’s be honest).

I also learn some (completely verifiable and unbiased) rugby stats from my South African cohort.

These include things like the fact that every Welsh player has the last name of Jones (which is nearly true), and that the Springboks—South Africa’s team—is the greatest rugby team on the planet (it’s just that the referees are never on their side).

I can’t argue with their last point, as South Africa wins the match. The rest of the evening is spent in a blur of beer and celebratory Nando’s, which is apparently the traditional thing to do when the Springboks win.

Rugby in London

Right after my weekend break in Wales, I take my newfound rugby knowledge and apply it at London’s Twickenham stadium.

Marriott has invited me to watch England play New Zealand, and I head southwest for a day of hospitality and rugby in Britain.

The London Marriott Hotel Twickenham is built right into the rugby stadium itself, making it a convenient place for a pre-match meal.

Our three-course lunch and champagne are a far cry from my fish and chips at the pub in Cardiff, and yet they are right up my alley. This might be my way of doing rugby in Britain.

After lunch, we head to the stands, where we take our seats and watch the All Blacks (as New Zealand’s team is called) perform the Haka, their famous traditional Maori war dance.

Apparently this is quite a special thing to witness firsthand. After watching it, I agree that it’s an intimidating spectacle.

England must think so, too, because New Zealand ultimately wins the rugby match.

Not before a great deal of good play, though (some of which I miss due to the longest queue for the ladies’ room I’ve ever stood in. One fun fact about being a woman at the rugby in Britain is that there’s one women’s restroom for every thousand men’s).

Rugby in Britain

I leave the match with my group and head back to the hotel for some champagne while we wait for the crowds to thin out.

Some people drown their sorrows at England’s loss while others toast to to an All Blacks victory. But I sip my bubbly to celebrate something different: becoming a bit more British by watching rugby in Britain.

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