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I find it intriguing. A large number of grown men having at each other in a soccer field, encouraged, scolded and generally shouted at by a stout Irishman sporting a prodigious moustache. [Thing is, they seem to be enjoying it.]

As they run seemingly tirelessly in an endless series of drills, their war cries/challenges/mantras ring through the air.

"Ball's mine! Ball's mine! Ball's mine!"
"Left! Left! Left! Left! Left!"
"Arrow one! Arrow one!"

I wonder, as I literally run circles around them, why they fascinate me so.

I've always detested these overtly contact sports. Give me badminton any day. Yet to see people who are so in love with a sport like rugby sweatily demonstrate that love is something else.

Team sports have never been too big to me either. It is thus precisely the hard, I emphasize HARD, training that's so fascinating. You see them fumble the pass, miss the throw, lose the ball. But do you see them learning to read each other's moves, sense each other's intentions and trust each other more? That's what a good coach does, I suppose.

But I'm not their coach.