Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Up Against A Wall



This all seems like trouble. Combine the brute violence of rugby with a big ole wall.  My cousin Thomas played the Wall Game when at Eton and left one match bitten -- by Prince Harry.  A high school sports injury all of us American folk can relate to.  This clip from the BFI archive shows a 1921 bout of futile, yet posh, pounding.

7 comments:

matt said...

hmmm. two words come to mind: latent homosexuals. i watched it twice.

Anonymous said...

I always thought it was funny that punching was not allowed in the wall game, but "knuckling" was encouraged. If you like the wall game, you should check out the Ba' Games of Scotland.

http://www.orkneyjar.com/tradition/bagame/

Ryder

Anonymous said...

In response to Matt, as a former single sex prep schooler myself, I find that view to be terribly ignorant. In my hometown, there were three all boys schools and two all girls schools and we were regarded as 'gay' or 'lesbian' by outsiders. Sure, one cannot deny that there are certain Whitman-esque feelings of fraternity or sorority, but nothing sordid. As a sexuality and gender studies major, the sort of sexuality you suggest is, at best, actualized in situational homosexuality, which is rarely if ever true homosexuality. I suggest you educate yourself before you make such egregious and offensive statements about a sensitive issue.

matt said...

dear anonymous 10:18 AM:
it was a joke. i am gay (hence the whole i watched it twice reference). i hope in this post-whitmanesque world people don't consider it such a horrible offense to be referred to and/or considered gay. but between you and me, i realize most people playing same sex group sports aren't. thanks for your insight.

Anonymous said...

The wall game is nasty and brutal, its players, often as not, mud-spattered. It is usually played in bone-chilling cold. Futile, too. Goals are few and far between.

Nevertheless, George Orwell, who represented himself (in "Such, Such Were the Joys . . .") as hopelessly unathletic, is remembered as one of the few who have actually scored a goal in the brutish sport.

Anonymous said...

The wall game is nasty and brutal, its players, often as not, mud-spattered. It is usually played in bone-chilling cold. Futile, too. Goals are few and far between.

Nevertheless, George Orwell, who represented himself (in "Such, Such Were the Joys . . .") as hopelessly unathletic, is remembered as one of the few who have actually scored a goal in the brutish sport.

Anonymous said...

The wall game is nasty and brutal, its players, often as not, mud-spattered. It is usually played in bone-chilling cold. Futile, too. Goals are few and far between.

Nevertheless, George Orwell, who represented himself (in "Such, Such Were the Joys . . .") as hopelessly unathletic, is remembered as one of the few who have actually scored a goal in the brutish sport.