Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Scrumcaps: A Mom’s safety blanket

Scrumcaps are funny things. Just look at Victor Matfield wearing one. His hair sticks out in all directions. He looks like a pincushion. His locking partner Bakkies Botha, does not wear one.

Matt Giteau wears one but does not kick with it on. When this plucky flyhalf has to kick a penalty or a conversion he will take his scrum cap off to reveal a funky hair-do.

When I interviewed Adriaan Garvey at the Sharks Academy I knew straight away that he was a front rower and probably a prop. He did not wear a scrumcap when he was playing professional rugby for the Boks. The ears give it away. His ears looked like cauliflowers.

Many professional front rowers will not wear a scrum cap despite knowing that their ears will look deformed from years of rubbing against other players' bodies in the scrum. The ears are the trophy, a testimony to the demanding position in the scrum.

When I walk past eight-year olds practising on the field I cannot hold back the smile that creeps on my face. I look at their oversized shoulder pads, gum guards and the scrum caps and I remember back to the days when Matt was that size and decided that he wanted to play rugby.

I remember how I felt when he told me he wanted to play rugby. I was horrified. Why could he not play a civilised game like soccer? His grandfather was a professional footballer and Craig played provincially. Soccer was in his genes.

Matt loved playing rugby. I decided that if I could not change his mind at least I could protect him with any protective gear that was available. A customised gum guard was essential. Craig is a dental technician and he makes a living from people who have lost teeth. He knows the expense of losing a tooth so Matt was the boy who had 3 or 4 gum guards (just in case one went missing).

Shoulder pads were researched and closely scrutinised. Would they protect the relevant areas? They had to fit tightly so that they did not end up next to his ears. Matt thought they were cool. They made his shoulders look bigger. No problem getting him to wear them.

Then the scrum cap. The essential bit of sportswear that I insisted on Matt wearing when he played a game. Broken bones were easy to spot. Cuts and bruises can be sorted out with gel or a plaster but the head was a no-man's land. I feared concussion, the constant companion to rugby. Concussion is so easily misdiagnosed and I learnt to respect this injury when Matt was knocked unconscious on the rugby field at the age of 12. I learnt from this incident that misdiagnosed concussion could end a player's life.

Dr Jon Patricios became my new hero. The good looks did make him pleasant to the eye. After all, the rugby side lines do not produce very good looking administrators or coaches. He was the man who blazed across the internet and newspapers informing ignorant parents about concussion. He was the doctor I would run to the minute Matt received a bump on his head. He was not always available but the staff at his sports clinic in Rosebank were.

Matt's first knock to the head was severe. He tackled a player low and was kicked on the side of his head. Although he was wearing his scrumcap he was knocked out cold. The scrumcap offered no protection.

When I spoke to my dentist, a rugby player and enthusiast, about the concussion some days later; he asked me whether Matt was wearing a gum guard. Obviously, I retorted. Good he replied. It helps reduce the impact. He made me realise that wearing a gum guard was far better than wearing scrum cap. I respected his advice but I was not ready to let the scrumcap go. It made me feel better when Matt ran onto the field wearing it.

When Matt was 16 years, he took his scrum cap off before a game. He knew there was nothing I could do whilst he was on the field playing. I charged over to him at half time demanding that he put his scrumcap back on. He looked me straight in the eye and said: 'I am not wearing my scrum cap. I cannot hear the coach or the team's call. It does nothing for me. I am fine. Please trust me.'

I looked at him and realised that it was time to let go. I sat at the side of the field. I decided to give up my pacing. I really watched my son as a player for the first time and I realised that I was holding him back. I was making him smaller than he was. It was time to allow my son the freedom of playing the game he loved with a passion. Wearing a scrumcap would not make a difference. Trusting him would.

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