World Cup Musings Part 4.2: The Matches

First, I want to say that it has been rewarding and so very hard to write about the World Cup. Rewarding, because I get to relive my experience through my words, and hard, because there are so many things I could say, so many events I could describe, so many interactions I could detail, and it’s hard to pick out the most important or the most blog-worthy moments.

I’ve started on the last part of this blog series about a half dozen times now, and I can’t ever find my footing. The hardest part of World Cup, was of course the competition and everything surrounding or a part of that. It’s also very hard to put that part of the experience into words. The anxiety, nerves, elation, tension, excitement, joy, and all of the other emotions were amplified, and would simultaneously flood over you at times. So, this is me trying to put that experience into words.

Let’s start with our first two matches. Against Italy and Spain, we played in the stadium at University College, Dublin. Those matches were lead ups to the stadium’s main event, which was always an Ireland match, so we always had a big crowd. The stadium wasn’t the biggest, nor was the crowd, and the pitch was the same as any other pitch, but with the World Cup logo painted on the grass and three years of built up expectations humming in the crowd, everything was bigger, louder, longer, faster.

Leading up to the games, we always had a match pitch familiarization block in our schedule. During this time, we get to walk around the match pitch, check out the locker rooms, and get used to our competition venue. During the match pitch familiarization, the field and stadium look and feel like any other would. On gameday, everything is more.

When we lined up, outside of our locker room, ready to take the pitch against Italy on August 9, energy radiated from each of my teammates. When the World Rugby folks put on the pre-game music, we all felt our hearts beating in our throats, perhaps because the pre-game music was a very loud and aggressive heartbeat. When we formed our circle after singing our National Anthem, you could feel the electricity in the moment.

And then there was the whistle, and all of that melted away. When you’ve been playing at the elite level, you learn present moment awareness. You learn to put away your awe when it’s time to take care of business. Those moments leading up to a World Cup match, transform you into a kid again. You’re smaller than everything that surrounds you, looking up with wonder at a world that’s new, scary, and exciting. When the whistle blows, you’re a scrappy, hard-working hooker again, intent on running over your opponent.

We handled Italy and Spain in dominant performances, though we would’ve liked to do more things right in both cases. We left points on the field, in both matches, and we think we should’ve shut out Italy. Our match against England, ended in a loss, and though we scored four tried and picked up a bonus point, had our defense against the maul been better, we would’ve had a shot to win that game as well.

Despite the loss against England, we would advance to the semi-finals. Wales did us a favor, in their match against Canada, and held them to only one try, so though the Canadians won, they didn’t earn a bonus point. Nor did they earn a bonus point in their final pool match, a loss against New Zealand.

I was having dinner with my mother and step-father, at Kiely’s of Donnybrook (I realize that the name of the restaurant has no significance to this story, but it sounds oh so Irish), after our match against Spain, while Wales was playing Canada. The Spain match was the first international match my mother had ever seen.

Kiely’s was full of Canadians, part of a viewing party, so we got to see the Canadians play Wales. Fresh off our second bonus point win, we had put ourselves out front of the pack. With only four teams advancing to the playoff rounds from pool play, we were in the catbird seat. And there, at Kiely’s, with a beef stew and a coffee warming me—a nice post-game recovery meal—I watched the happy Canadian viewing party relish in their victory over Wales. I relished along with them, because Wales had given Canada a run for their money, and now Canada would have to either beat, tie, or eke out a bonus point in a loss against New Zealand (and hope we lost to England without a bonus point) to advance. Bonus points are life, when your World Cup can’t handle more than four teams in a playoff.

We were confident, going into the days leading up to the England match. We thought we could beat England, and though there was plenty of pressure to do so, we knew we were in a good position, having earned two bonus points thus far. And then, right before we played England, New Zealand routed Canada.

The Canadians are a strong team—very strong. Their scrum is powerful and dynamic, they run good lines, their backline has a few threats, and they play with a bit of finesse here and there. They aren’t the most powerful, the fastest, or the most creative, but they have all of those aspects of their game honed, and they execute.

We all thought they would give the Black Ferns a run for their money, but that wasn’t the case. New Zealand made them look amateur (something they’d do to us a few days later), and after the Black Ferns’ victory, we knew we’d perhaps be seeing them in the semis (if France took care of Ireland).

The England match was tough. Our defense was ill prepared for their maul, and they exploited that to the fullest. However, in the last 15-20 minutes of that match, we played perhaps the fastest rugby in the entire World Cup, or at least that’s what our S&C coach told us.

When you play New Zealand, you always face a unique challenge, and that is the Haka. How do you approach centuries of tradition with respect, but also an “unfuckwithable” attitude? We decided to do both. We stepped up to the Haka, but acknowledged the tradition, in which their war cry is steeped. And we also stepped up to the challenge of playing with New Zealand…for a half. Our second half wasn’t exactly our best rugby, and we put ourselves out of Cup contention.

I’ve talked about the nerves going into our opening matches, but I don’t recall my feeling, before the semi-final and the 3^rd place matches, being one of nerves. It was more of an anxious humming. We’d also been dealing with injuries and other issues, and so pulling tighter together probably helped the nerves.

We went into the 3^rd place match with a young rookie flyhalf, and different faces all over the field. We were too concerned with supporting each other and being as efficient as possible on our side of the ball to devote much time to our nerves. While, we strayed a bit from our game plan a bit, we played well against the French. And though we couldn’t claw our way to a win, we clawed.

It wasn’t what we wanted, but it was probably a fitting way to end our World Cup—not quite having enough against the top three teams in the world. Not all journeys end in a sunset ride. Not all finales are nail-biting championships. Ours was much more.

I’m not sure I’ve ever been part of a team that had so little inter-squad drama/tension/bad vibes. This squad was special. A lot of teams talk about playing for one another; this team walked that walk. It is my firm belief that our biggest asset at the World Cup, which played the biggest role in our success, was the way we pulled together and played for each other. Like I said, it was special. I made memories and friends I’ll never forget. 

World Cup Musings Part 4.1 The World Cup Experience Without the Games

I want to start off this blog with a little snippet from an article I wrote for The Rugby Breakdown (check out that article for a little recap of the first part of our World Cup experience).

We kicked off our World Cup tour in Washington, DC, a place that boasts its own history and has its own spirits lingering around old buildings and swampy recesses. The Irish Embassy welcomed us and the 1983 team, the first ever USA Women’s National Team, to kick off our weekend in DC. The highlight of the event for most of the players was getting a chance to meet the players who had played their position for the first time. Kit Kat (Katy Augustyn) and I got to meet Mary Money, the first hooker for the USA WNT, and I found out that we almost played together at a tournament last year at the DC Furies-hosted tournament, Ruggerfest. I decided to play for the Old Girls that year, and though she usually plays for them, she had to miss that particular year.

We also had a fundraising event at Scion restaurant in Silver Spring, MD. If you’re thinking, “Isn’t Scion a rugby academy,” you’re right. The owner of Scion Academy, Joanne Liu, also owns two Scion restaurants. I’ve been playing for Scion for a few years now, and so of course I am biased in regards to both our brand of rugby and the restaurants’ menus, but I have to say, the food at the fundraiser was the best we’ve had thus far on tour.

The fundraiser also featured a Q&A with the current WNT, in which attendees were serenaded by Jordan Gray and her melodious harmonies, as well as Naya Tapper, and her glass-shattering screeching. There was also a photo booth and a myriad of props to entertain guests. And at the end of the event, Jillion Potter, Olympian and former World Cup competitor, gave the Eagles some well wishes and valuable advice.

We ended our stay in DC with a practice at the 15^th and Independence field, under the looming Washington Monument, on a pitch, riddled with divots and lush with wiry weeds (the home pitch of Scion Academy—where, in the words of Sara Parsons, “champions are made). It was a fitting end to our DC leg of the World Cup Tour, on a pitch like so many in this country, rugged and beaten, which is revealing of our squad—we play where we find the space to play, and we grind it out, despite the terrain.

And now here we are, in the mist and the fog of a lush Irish landscape. It feels a little surreal, in part because the ending of the long camp felt like the end of the hard stuff, but there is more hard stuff ahead; it’s just a different sort of hard. It’s surreal because we’re in a country steeped in mythology and history—that dates back hundreds of years before the USA existed as a country—and looking around at the lush grasses, foliage, shrubbery, you can’t help but believe in fairies yourself. And it’s surreal because we are living our goals and yet there are more goals—so much more potential to live into.”

That is exactly how noble and heroic we all felt in Ireland. The World Cup was a big event there. And here’s where I’ll pause and say that it could’ve been bigger, we could’ve had more promotion, and the women could get an easier go of it as far as the schedule goes. And that’s all I want to say about that now.

We were in the Irish media. People knew who we were…I mean, not by name, though I have been picked out in a crowd as Alev Kelter twice in my life now. We were asked for pictures in public. And overall, we got a little taste of the celebrity life (like B-list celebrity…or maybe Food Network B-list celebrity). It was fun, and not in an “all-night-bar-hopping-blast” kind of way. People told you how much they appreciated watching you play, and then some joked about how they wished you luck but only so far as the finals and then their team would best yours (this is, after all, the best they can do).

And then there were the fans—the support in Ireland, and the support flooding in from home was nothing short of amazing. I am not being sentimental or fulfilling some duty in saying that. I will forever be grateful for my friends and family, all of my teammates’ friends and family, and all of the USA supporters. My mom got to see me play in a United States of America uniform for the first time, and I got to give her a hug after two games in a World Cup, something I’d done in every sport I’d played, since I was five years old.

After each game, we toured the inside of the arena, meeting with our friends, family, and fans. We would meet an amalgamation of old Eagles, costumed fans, loved ones, foreign fans, old teammates, young fans, drunk fans, and those fans who were chomping at the bit themselves. You know the ones, because you remember being like them yourself—putting your face out there to not only pay tribute, but to say as well, “you’ll be seeing me around.” That is always good energy—seeing the next generation immersing themselves in the game.

Having a birthday on the day of Opening Ceremony will also be one of my most favorite memories. I secretly pretended that the ceremony was in honor of my birthday, and that made me smile the whole way through (how they knew I wanted a lady to fall from the sky, I’ll never know).

And amid all the hoopla, and the recognition, and the fans, and pomp, and ceremony, and heroics, were my teammates. More than the ceremony, more than the hoopla, more that even the games, will be my teammates and the memories we made—and I’ll save you from having to read our sentimental inside jokes about The Bridge to Terabithia, peanuts, and single shot lattes (seriously...single shot lattes). Those are the moments that made the World Cup experience one of the best in my life. And those moments wouldn’t have been so special if we weren’t also competing in one of the most grueling sporting events…and I’ll touch on those in my next blog, World Cup Musings Part 4.2: The Games…and stuff.

World Cup Musings Part 3: Long Camp

Long camp was a grind. To say that I’ve never experienced anything like it wouldn’t exactly be accurate, but it was its own monster. I’ve been through four preseasons for a division one college basketball team, and each was its own monster, as is 7s residency, especially when leading up to the first tournament of the World Series. However, long camp was a sort-of combination of each of these, with its own elements churned in.

Camp kicked off with Navy Seal training in Coronado, CA. That would be a taste of what was in store for us during the month of July. In the arid Chula Vista heat, we dug our spikes into the dirt and put our noses to the rugby grindstone for four weeks. The long camp tested our fitness, our strength, our mettle. The goal with these long camps and preseasons is to prepare the body and mind for competition. To do this, you condition in extremes. You push your boundaries far enough so that hopefully, no matter what comes up, in competition you won’t meet them again, and if you do, you know how to push further. Or at least that is the heroic ideal. The truth is, it's a hellish grueling process, with a healthy dose of fulfillment.

A typical day consisted of a gym session, a practice preview (including film most days), a morning practice, a snack/lunch break and an afternoon/evening practice. Sometimes there were three practice sessions, sometimes no gym, sometimes only gym and one practice, sometimes a team bonding event—it varied, but most of the time we had three sessions and some sort of meeting and/or film. Usually, we were at the center for about 7ish hours, and we trained 5-6 days a week.

We also lived with one another—not in one large house, but in small groups divided among apartments. Of course, sharing space with others comes with its own problems, but I believe it made long camp easier for me (despite having to pick up behind Catie Benson…heart you Benny). For the duration of long camp, I lived in the Tight 5 House (plus Perry). It was myself and our courageous captain, Tiff, in one room, Benson and Kuno in another, and Perry and Nick James in the third room.

I’ve given you the rundown of a typical training day. Our days were much more than training. I still had my job, though I had cut my hours a good deal. Others had jobs as well. Some had school work, and others worked remotely. At one point, Nick James flew back home to fulfill coaching obligations in the Lone Star State.

Most mornings I woke up early and did yoga while Tiff worked in her section of our “office” in the living room. We had coffee and some great chats (sometimes over Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence”…you know, “Hello Darkness, my old friend”). Then off to breakfast. I sometimes stayed a while longer, ate at home and had some mindfulness time. Then off to training, with work afterward.

Side note: In addition to the team and staff, we had some family join us along the way. Family and partners came to visit during the week of the USA v. WPL match and continued to stop by. It was a welcome distraction to the rigorous monotony of training. We also had Pete’s little girl, Penny, motivating us (she liked the forwards best, because we fed her).

Usually, I’d come home from work around 9-9:30 and find a house full, most playing cards. Mata would have a plate full of watermelon and Tiff would be talking smack at the card table. Nick would occasionally break from cards to pour a glass of sweet tea from one of those plastic gallon pitchers, and Benson would be recording most of it on some sort of social media outlet. At one point, during camp we drew up a family history. I’ll give you guys my side of the family tree (apparently, I get around).

We’d usually have a day off on the weekend, and I’d set up my work schedule so that I was off on our off day. Sometimes, we’d visit the beach, and sometimes go to the farmer’s market, where we’d sample everything and sweet talk the cheesecake guy into giving us a deal on mini cheesecakes. And there were cookies. At one point along the way, I bought a poncho along with my good buddy, Bulou. 

That's the short of long camp, the jist, the all-in-all. That may seem monotonous, but there were plenty of mini adventures, little shenanigans, and lifelong memories (god I’m dripping with clichés). And when it was done, we’d only get to do it over again in Ireland. What’s that saying, “when one door closes, there’s a window open”…or “the door’s not locked”…or something. Kidding. World Cup would be open door around the corner, and really guys, I don’t know how I could ever fit that experience into a blog. We’ll see…

World Cup Musings Part 2: Residency

The first USA Women's Rugby 15s residency program started in September of 2016, and I, along with Hope Rogers, Jordan Gray, Molly Kinsella, and Jamila Reinhardt (Jam would arrive in October and live in her own apartment) were all a part of the first residency class. First, I am proud that I was a part of the first USA Rugby Women’s 15s residency program. I am proud to have been selected for it. I am proud that I made the move to San Diego to train full time, and I am proud to have stuck it out. I am also grateful for the opportunity.

With that said, the USAR Women’s 15s residency program wasn’t exactly smooth sailing. Of course, with anything in its maiden voyage, there are bound to be a few bumps in the road and a hitch here and there. With the residency program, it seemed like we started that voyage in the middle of a forest, with only a compass in hand. 

We had issues from the start, namely that we couldn’t actually start training full time, because we couldn’t get into the Olympic Training Center (now the Chula Vista Elite Athlete Training Center) to train. The 7s program wouldn’t start training again until October, and it didn’t make logistical sense to have only four players on site training with no coach (we didn’t have a coach right away either). USAR had set us up, to kick off residency program, with Atavus Academy and Les Spelman, who was working with them at the time, so for the first month of 15s residency, we had four two-hour sessions a week with Atavus and two sessions with the San Diego Surfers (we’d be playing the 2016 WPL season with the Surfers).

Here’s where that journey cliché really gets revved up. Though training with Atavus wasn’t what we had originally signed up for, it certainly had its benefits. For one, Les has a background in speed and agility, and while I hesitate to speak for my teammates (though, I’m sure I could in this instance), I saw a marked improvement in my running form—something that keeps improving as I continue to implement techniques I learned with Les.

Along with our improvements in running mechanics, we also worked on rugby skills and strength and conditioning with Atavus. Perhaps one of the greatest benefits was that training with Atavus eased us into a full-time training schedule without throwing at us eight hours of training, film, and meetings all at once.

That month of “training in limbo,” as I like to think of it, also gave us a bit more free time to look for jobs. Heading into residency, we’d been told that USAR would help us to find jobs. Let’s go on a little tangent here, because some of my rugby-novice readers may be wondering why we would need jobs if we were part of a full-time athletic program. Yes, we needed jobs. While part of a full-time residency program, we were only provided with an apartment and access to the training center, which included meals and medical. Therefore, anything else we wanted or needed was an out-of-pocket cost, and we needed paper in the pocket to afford those costs—like bills, transportation, entertainment, food that wasn’t from the cafeteria, clothes, the internet, etc.

Let’s stop and recap for a second, so that I’m sure that I haven’t derailed us completely. In mid-September of 2016, I was two weeks into living 3,000 miles away from my point of origin, my family, most of my friends, and my support system, living on the edge of broke, without a full-time job, and not even living the “dream” of being a full-time athlete yet. But I was loving it.

Needless to say, USAR hadn’t come through, right away, on all of the promises of a pro-athlete training environment, all expenses paid, with only the responsibility of some minimal part-time work to keep ahead of bills. But there I was, waking up at 4:30am during the week to train two hours and then spend the rest of my sunny day lounging by the pool, working on extra skills, hanging with my teammates, reading, exploring, or whatever my little heart could find to fill itself. 

I worked some on Wednesdays, testing a ride share app (a gig procured through a west-coast friend, and not by anything USAR put in motion), and did some leg work and odd jobs here and there for other friends. I played rugby with the Surfers or went to the beach on the weekends, the farmer’s market on Sundays, took naps by the pool in the evenings, and for the most part enjoyed my days without getting too stressed about the meager flow of my income or the fact that the four of us were on a bit of an island and didn’t really know what our rugby futures held in store.

October rolled around, the four of us still looking for jobs and trying to figure out how to make our lives work out financially, and we weren’t able to get into the center when the 7s girls came back. Looking back now, it seemed like every time we had a “supposed to” date, whatever that thing was, which was supposed to happen, never happened when it was supposed to—like starting at the center or when our meals would kick in, or when we’d get a Strength and Conditioning coach or a forwards coach.

Here’s where I’ll digress again, before I get on a roll with the “supposed to” stuff. With any project, you can almost certainly expect delays, and I don’t think anything is as smooth or as efficient as it could possibly be when it first starts up. I could go into all of our set-backs with the program, and I’ve already given a few examples. I could detail the shortcomings we experienced with our organization. I could vent all of the frustrations we had. But I won’t. Of course we had frustrations aplenty, and USAR has plenty of shortcomings, and the residency program could’ve been better planned and executed, but I don’t want to turn this into a bash session. However, I do feel it necessary, in the context of my blog recounting my experiences with USAR, that there are a lot of things our organization needs to do better. USAR needs to be better for its players. Too often we (especially the women) get a very, very short stick. In the same breath, I offer thanks to the people at USAR who try to make things better. With all of their flaws and good intentions, we have some great people working for the program.

Now, back to October. We finally got into the center and started training with the 7s program. We trained four days from about 7am until around 3pm. Now, we didn’t spend all that time running around or throwing around weights. We had meetings, meals, film, and other team activities (check out my article on The Rugby Breakdown for more on our day-to-day-rugby lives).

We trained at the center during the day, practiced with the Surfers two nights a week, and played on the weekends. We would win a WPL National Championship with the Surfers (see my blog) and travel to France for a tour over the Thanksgiving holiday. We visited the infamous Tigertown over the week of New Years. From October through the first part of January, we were engulfed in rugby from all sides, and had gotten into that full-time environment we’d been expecting, and it was amazingly busy, hard, rewarding, and stifling all at once.

Over the winter, Jordan eventually decided to move a little further north and play the spring season with Life West. Molly decided to pick up with her real life in Steamboat, CO, and Hope and I got two new housemates—Megan Foster and Nicole Strasko. Foster and Strasko had been training at the center, since October, so it wasn’t a big shock to the system to change around our living situation. I also started a new job in January, at the UFC Gym, as a personal trainer (something I love to do). With my new job, life got busier and harder, but ultimately more rewarding. While it was certainly rewarding, it was difficult to balance, and I don’t think I could keep up with the pace at which I was living permanently. However, I did it for seven months and I had a hectic blast while at it.

What made balancing work and training the hardest was the travel for rugby. I got the job in December, but waiting until after the Tigertown camp to start. Then there was the Falcons tour to Japan in February, the Vegas stop in March (check out the Rugby Breakdown article), the CanAm series in April (though I didn’t play in the series due to injury, I was at every team event), and another camp in June, before long camp started at the end of June. Needless to say, I was out of town or not available to work for a week at a time, nearly every month from January to July. Personal training, makes that kind of schedule more manageable, but it’s not ideal for clients. Fortunately, my clients were very supportive of my rugby journey, and though it was tough, I managed.

My injury also made life just a wee bit harder. I have a herniated disc in my c-spine, and though I’m not symptomatic daily, it makes for some nasty stingers when I get hit or hit someone awkwardly. Because of the disc, I had to take some time and give those nerves a break (after a stinger at nationals, one in France, one in Tigertown, and a couple others in training), and I got a couple of cortisone shots for good measure. I’d be back in action in June, but I took April and May to have myself checked out and get the shots.

So here we are in June, on the verge of long camp. The above paragraphs essentially sum up our first 15s residency program. There were other challenges we faced that I could get into, as well as other changes, and other rewards. There was the day-to-day struggle with keeping our apartment clean after six rugby players crashed following a day of practice. There were the trips to the farmers market, the dinner outings, the shopping trips, and all of the normal things roommates do. We did all of the things everyone else does, only we trotted the globe playing rugby as well. Take all of the difficulties I mentioned above, and they disappear when you’re traipsing around the world with a rugby ball in your hands. They melt away as soon as you step foot on the pitch.

Stay tuned for Part 3 of my World Cup Musings, in which I’ll get into our long camp. 

World Cup Musings, Part 1: The Journey

I haven't been blogging these last few months. I've been busy, for sure. Rugby took up most of my time. There was a World Cup thing I did. Of course, it only makes sense that I write about the World Cup thing in this, my first blog in months, and of course, that's just what I plan to do.

When I sat down, five minutes ago, to plug away at this blog, the first thing I typed was some maudlin cliche about a journey. Certainly, this World Cup thing was a journey. We athletes, we people, are always on one sort of journey or another. Hell, life is the grand journey. I don't want to start in on the whole concept of a journey. I write something like, "Now that the journey that was World Cup is over..." and already, you know where it's going. I know where it's going. I say, "World Cup was a journey," and you know the rest of the story--it was hard in the beginning, at some point things changed, something clicked, we learned, we met setbacks, we endured, things probably didn't go as planned, but there was a lesson and everyone was better for it. I suppose you could probably fit most experience into that mold.
So, now that the journey that was World Cup is over, and I have had time to reflect, I'm still not sure what it all meant, or if it meant anything, or if meaning is necessary at all. I'm not sure of the lesson. And I'm not sticking to the journey mold. I see it as something particularly important in my life.

It was very important in my world, but a little over three months later and it seems like a dissipating vapor of a memory. Part of me wants to write about it so that I may relive it all. It was, after all one of the most gratifying, toughest, most enjoyable, and most draining experiences of my life.

So here we go: Part 1 in my World Cup Musings. Since it was indeed a journey, despite my reservations about tapping into that cliche, I plan on giving my readers a brief synopsis of the journey in this blog, and then in subsequent blogs, I plan to get into all of the happenings on this wonderful journey.

This last World Cup cycle started three years ago, when the 2014 World Cup ended (the USA WNT finished in 6th place in 2014). I was a reserve on that 2014 squad. Personally, there was unfinished business to handle, so my journey started in 2011. But then I'm getting behind here. There's a Buddhist saying that goes, "You are the sum total of everything it has taken to produce you since before the beginning of beginningless time," but if we take that approach, we'll have to go back to before beginningless time. So, for brevity's sake, we're going to start the journey with 15s residency.

Our first Women's 15s residency ever started in September 2016. Myself, Hope Rogers, Jordan Gray, and Molly Kinsella were the first class. We all lived in an apartment adjacent to the training center, and we all played for the San Diego Surfers in 2016.

In November the 15s WNT played France in a two-match series, and in January 2017, we had a 15s camp. We also got new housemates in January, with Jordan and Molly pursuing other rugby and life goals. Nicole Strasko and Megan Foster then moved in with Hope and me. Caitlin Singletary, our video analyst also moved in.

We continued training with the 7s team at the Chula Vista Elite Athlete Training Center until March, when all of our 15s friends came out to Southern California for a CanAm series. In June, we had another camp. In July, we started our month-long World Cup Prep Camp, and World Cup rolled around in August.

Needless to say, it was a whirlwind of a year, and as with any journey, it was full of good times and not-so-good times. In my upcoming blogs, I'll get into those good times and not-so-good times. Hopefully, I'll get my fix with reliving it all and my readers will get a little insight on the USA WNT's road to a 4th place finish at the 2017 World Cup. Stay tuned!!

Eagles Show Promise in CanAm Series

No, a 39-5 defeat isn't something for which many teams are proud. Neither is a 37-10 loss. The Women's National 15s team isn't pleased with either result. We know that neither game was indicative of our capabilities. We know we under-performed. We fell short of our mark. We also know that we are far less experienced than the Canadian side, and we play and practice together far less. In fact, we play and practice together far less than most of the top ten teams in the world. We realize we're shooting from behind the eight ball when it comes to together time. However, looking at our performance against Canada with that filter (the "no together time" filter), one doesn't see 30-point massacres. Instead, one sees promise.

Think about it this way. Let's say you've been lifting five days a week, following a strength program with the hopes of hitting a big number on your squat max. You've been training for a year now, and your gains have become incremental, but you're still progressing. This is where Canada sits. They've had lots of time training together and will field a World Cup team with most of the players having played in a previous World Cup.

On the other hand, the USA are like sinewy armed amateurs, who are just starting a strength program--with a good athletic foundation, but lots of room for gains. We had five new caps on this tour alone (and a few on the last on to France), the last tour before World Cup. We will only have a handful of players, who have played in a previous World Cup, going to this WC. And on top of all of that, we've only played 10 test matches, since the 2014 World Cup (on a tangent, the lack of test matches for the WNT is a separate issue that I won't address here, but I would like to leave this little tidbit of information: the Men's National Team played 10 test matches last year, and are slated to have as many this year...a year that is a Women's World Cup year).

If look at the match-up this way, it's not surprising that Canada are three to four tries better than us. However, with a July residence in our future, we will soon close that gap. The USA WNT World Cup squad will be living and training together for the entire month of July. That means more gains.

Now, this isn't revolutionary. Most of the top women's national teams already have a residency program. My point is that we haven't had this opportunity, and with it we can improve in leaps and bounds. This is why I believe the CanAm series showed promise. We've been together, as a squad, about six times, in the last two years, for about 10 days at a time (on average)--that's 60 days in two years--and still we compete with the top teams. Our problem is consistency, and consistency is what comes when you build habits, and habits come from practice, from "together time."

We won't have a lot of "together time"--we'll have a fraction of what the tops women's teams have--but we will utilize that coveted bonding time. Our team is a group of hard working women, and we will make the most of our residency. We have a good foundation--promise--and now it's time to build on that.

Falcons Take Okinawa 7s Cup in Unbeaten Performance

In case you've missed all of the social media posts and articles from various rugby outlets, the USA Falcons (we) took gold in Okinawa (there were actually no medals). There are some great recaps up on The Rugby Breakdown and USA Rugby, so I'll try to stay away from too much repeated information.

On day one, we faced Japan's A and B squads in the first and last matches of the day, and took on France between those matches. Though we didn't take a loss, we only won one of those games, as we tied both of the Japan squads 19-19 (that's right, both of our Japan matches ended in 19-19 ties).

Both of the Japan matches followed the same story line. We had trouble maintaining possession due to Japan's effectiveness around the breakdown. On a couple of occasions we had players make great line breaks, but support was slow, and Japan turned over the ball. When we were able to maintain possession, around line breaks, we scored. Those two games were our two worst offensive efforts in pool play, and our two worst defensive efforts of the tournament. It was limited possession that was the deciding factor in what could've been two more wins for the Falcons.

The game against France was a different story. Not only did we maintain possession, we supported well and ran our system effectively. Like most French squads, this France team was a scrappy team, and were able to claw out some line breaks and put a try on the board. However, in the end, we were the more disciplined team, and while they were scrappy, they were no match for our physicality. Behind two Kate Zackary tries, we tallied 29 points for the match.

In the first match of day two, we ran into an opponent that could match our physicality. The Netherlands brought a squad of big, hard running locomotives. In this match, we decided not to try to out physical a physical team and instead relied on ball movement and a balanced attack to take the 33-0 victory. We had five different players score in this match.

In our final pool match, we faced a tough Australia team. While the match was close for most of the 14 minutes, we ended up pulling away after a sneaky chip kick, by Cheta Emba, that bounced perfectly into her hands and led her down the sideline for a score. Kelsi Stockert followed that score with one of her own as the horn sounded, and we took a 26-17 victory going into the Cup Finals.

The Finals would be a repeat of the last pool match, as we faced Australia again. Australia switched up their game plan right off the bat and sent the opening kickoff deep into our end. A momentary cerebral shutdown and a blocked kick led to a quick Australian try. They followed their score with another deep kick, but this time we handled it better and after scores from Naya Tapper and Emba, we took a 12-5 halftime lead.

The second half was a lot of back and forth play. The game grew more and more physical after we scored again and Australia scrambled to close the gap. They would bring the score to 19-12 as the horn sounded and their final effort on the ensuing kickoff would be a good one, but not enough as the Falcons claimed the Okinawa 7s title.

Upon receiving the blue glass Okinawa Cup, we got a grand ovation by a group of Americans who lived or were stationed in Japan. Though Japan boasted the largest fan base at their home tournament, we had the second largest, and perhaps the loudest.

Okinawa 7s brought us some valuable tournament time, a chance to play with new players and try out new things. We also had a blast, and our wonderful fans helped to make it fun.