Women’s rugby cured my broken heart

I was meek and timid, says Caroline Murphy, but black eyes and bruises turned out to be the cure for my heartache

Iwas just as shocked as anyone when I decided to take up women's rugby last year. Even my inspirational Bootcamp instructor tried to reason with me by explaining that I was probably the most uncompetitive, unaggressive woman he had ever met and rugby might not be the best sport for me to take up in my late 20s. And I initially agreed with him.

However, I had just come out of a serious relationship and heartache can make you look for happiness in the strangest of places. When two girls at my Bootcamp class started talking to me about their rugby club, Old Belvedere, I was intrigued but convinced I would never fit in with these strong, confident girls. At the time I was feeling the complete opposite: pathetic, rejected and lost. So lost that they managed to convince me to come down to a training session — after all, anything was better than going home and being alone with my thoughts.

That first time I approached the club, there were teams of men and women bustling around the corridor of changing rooms. I actually started shaking and my heart was racing so I decided to return to the safety of my car where I got changed into my brand new football boots and rugby shorts.

Eventually I worked up the courage and wandered over to the pitches where I stood awkwardly until someone said: “Hello, are you new?” Luckily it was the start of the season so the first weeks were spent working on passing drills and fitness tests. I got chatting to a few of the girls, all of whom were friendly and so different to the cliquey south Co Dublin hockey clubs that I had tried to join in previous years. They weren't threatened by a new girl coming on to the team. It was a ‘the more the merrier’ attitude — whether you showed real potential or could barely catch the ball, you were welcome.

Three weeks in, we started tackling. This was the point that I had been dreading. It's such a difficult thing to get used to if you haven't been playing contact sports; girls running at you and smashing you to the ground.

In my first contact training game I was hit hard, twice. I was in shock as I got up from the ground, tears forming in my eyes. My head was pounding and my pride was badly bruised. One of the girls roared at the girl who had tackled me: “She's new, for God's sake, take it easy!”

I was really starting to have doubts about trying to play rugby but I wanted to prove everyone wrong who thought I couldn't do it and, more importantly, I really wanted to be friends with these fun, amazing women. The next night at training we were asked to sit out of the tackling if we felt we weren't ready yet. I jumped at the chance and was surprised when a 6ft 4in woman joined me on the sidelines. I asked her if she wanted to practice against each other with the tackling bags. She was really encouraging despite my weak and aimless efforts and I was gushing with praise for her when she had a go — for a new girl, she was impressive! A few weeks later I found out she plays with the Irish Women's team. It's a story everyone laughs at in the club now, how the new girl taught Maz, the Irish second row, how to tackle! But that's the rugby girls for you: no airs, no graces, no arrogance, just encouragement.

Cut to 18 months later and I am tackling girls on a weekly basis. I've had black eyes, bloody noses, and the most unsightly bruises, yet I have never felt better about myself. I train twice a week for two hours, whatever the weather; the other nights I work on my fitness and we play matches on Sundays.

My friends, family and work colleagues accept that rugby is now a major part of my life. Generally, it's all I can talk about. I haven't missed training once this year and there is rarely a week that goes by that I am not out socialising with the girls. I started off as a winger, as do a lot of the girls my size. In my sixth league game I won Player of the Match — something I am sure was more of an encouragement award than deserved. But it worked and I started getting a taste for competition and for the thrill of the tackle.

Not only that, but I decided that I wasn't getting enough action on the wing and set a goal for myself to make it to the centres. Now I play number 12 — I love nothing more than crash balls.

That's something I never believed I'd say, but it turns out that becoming a rugby player has been the surprise highlight of my 20s!

L