Pace on Earth

My Father's Eyes

We played a game in Nova Scotia yesteday (and won!) and after the game I ran into an former Fredericton Exile named Ernie O'Hara. He congratulated me on a good game and relayed the fact that he played for the Exiles and NB in the late 70's. I told him he probably knew my father, Peter Pacey, at which point he threatened to punch me before smiling, shaking his head, and saying "You're father was a mother-fucker to play against!"

I've heard this from countless people over the years and as we get older and the days of him rumbling downhill on the pitch get farther away I sometimes forget that, as much as we share in our love of and success in the game, we are fairly different players. With the Calithumpians he became the Bull of the Woods but in a rugby jersey he was the bull in a china shop. They all said that trying to tackle him was like trying to tackle a tree. And so as not to pile the praise too high it should be noted that, while my strength may be in my passing, he was said not to know what that word meant. This led the introduction of a new position known as 'Outside Pacey' where players learned the finer points of playing the game without the ball.

Interestingly for all the people that have extended him this praise their number is dwarfed by the number of former students of his that have approached me to let me know that he was the best teacher/prof they ever had. I know that its the second group that will mean more to him but I also know that there is nothing quite like the feeling having someone bounce off you on your way to the try line, hence his reluctance to pass the ball.

These days he still makes his presence felt at the club but now its with his imposing voice and not his legs. I tend to think I play better when he is there so in that way he is still affecting the game.

Happy Father's Day Poppa Pacey.

Si

Labels: Family Ties, Rugger

posted by Vitamin S @ 12:18 p.m.