Friday night the Western Force rugby club took own the Chiefs from New Zealand at the Subiaco Oval, 20 minutes north of where I live. The four guys who I live with decided that we had had enough estrogen and snuck away to drink a few beers and watch grown men smash into each other for a few hours.

Despite knowing next to nothing about the sport, my first professional rugby game was a great experience. The Force got out to an early 14-8 lead at the half. Points, I learned, are scored in three different ways: a try is worth 5 points (crossing the goalline and touching the ball to the ground), then you get an extra point type situation worth two points, or when the ump calls a penalty you can opt for a penalty kick which is like a field goal and worth three points. I did my best to catch some video but between pesky security guards, nosebleed seats, and a 5 year old digital camera with a screen that would make you believe it only takes thumbnails, I didn’t come up with anything to worthwhile. Instead I stole some highlights from YouTube. Sooner or later I will be legit.

After that, the Chiefs made a run late in the game and were leading 21-19 with no time left on the clock. Apparently in rugby, somewhat like soccer, this means next to nothing. Although rugby is a bit better in that there is actually a definite ending to the game. Once time runs out as long as the ball stays in bounds you keep playing. So with -10 seconds on the clock the Force were able to get a penalty kick which they nailed for the walk-off victory.

If I had to compare rugby with a big-time American sport (relax meatheads I know some people play it in America) I would say it is pretty close to football without pads or whistles. The hits weren’t quite as frequent but there were definitely a couple of shots that Ray Lewis would have been proud of. Probably the biggest link between American and Australian sports that I have found so far is the gender gap.

In our nosebleeds we were mostly among Force season ticket holders, or club members as they are called here. The girl sitting next to me was probably about 18 years old and said she had been to every game this year. I was glad because never having seen a rugby game I would have someone to at least explain the basics. I was also glad that she was slightly better looking than the average belligerent ogre dressed in their Force’s purple jerseys. She got a few of the basics out of the way early on, but once I moved to more complicated questions like: What is a penalty? or How many points for a penalty kick? She got a bit lost. Luckily, her older brother was a few seats away and I eventually learned the rules through a miniature game of telephone. Sitting next to her I couldn’t help but imagine my own sister or a few of my Notre Dame friends sitting next to an Australian during his first trip to Notre Dame Stadium struggling to explain a first down or a holding penalty. It made me laugh and I also realized that it’s all the same game, just different rules. It’s a small world.