HOW WE ROLL: 3 Buses, 2 Planes, a Truck Escort, Luxury Villas and 35 pizzas at a sitting ….. It's How We Roll — The T&T Tour.   15th March 2009   By Dick Smith

I have been asked to write a report about the recently concluded Ste-Anne's RFC tour to Trinidad & Tobago. I am no writer & of course, I wasn’t there to see every thing, like when a group went to the West Indies vs. England cricket game. Danny T. told me it was awesome, but I’ll tell you what I do know, and some of what I heard, and I will even leave a good deal out. We all know the old saying: "What goes on tour, stays on Tour." 

It was a rough trip for the Old Stone, that’s for sure. On Day One, he lost his hat. Yeah that's right, the Royal Blue one into which he had stuck all his Rugby pins and on which he had painstakingly written "SABRFC T&T Tour." That has to hurt.

I saw him limping on Day Two and it turned out that he had suffered a splinter in his foot at Maracas Beach, while exploring the pier down at the far end of that long, perfect, coconut (not palm!) tree-lined crescent of sand. I guess this splinter sort of serves him right because he had gone off alone, and the tour book was very clear about that. “Never Leave The Group. ”  I certainly didn’t and look at me. I got back okay even though everyone always seemed so worried about me because I was the youngest on tour.

Not that we hadn't received a ton of warnings before departure.  “Beware the exploding crime rate,” we had been told. Apparently murders and kidnappings abound in Trinidad and there was even talk in the local papers of a human slave trade, mostly of children, like me! Well they should have tied down Parky first then. On the first night he walked out to the road at 4:00 am and stuck out his thumb and jumped into the first car that came along: The only car that came along. He asked the driver for a tour and the man happily showed him all around Port of Spain before dropping him back at the Halyconian Inn where we spent our first four nights.

At first I thought Parky must be crazy, ignoring the Tour Book advice like that. Later, it turned out that such behavior wasn’t as strange as it seemed. Public transportation in Trinidad is called the "Trini Taxi" and what happens is that locals stand by the side of the road and any driver who wants to (which is usually everyone) stops and picks them up. The cost is 3 Trini dollars to go as far as you want on the route the driver is taking (that’s 20 cents!). I didn’t believe this until we were in Tobago and had to go about 3 kilometres to the grocery store. Sure enough a car beeped and stopped and in we hopped. It stopped again to pick up a Tobago woman who squeezed into the back with me. We hopped out at the Pennysaver, did our shopping and repeated the process to go home. And, this time, the driver took us right to the door because he saw we had bags to carry. It was awesome!

In both Trinidad and especially Tobago, life ad its dangers were the exact opposite of what we had heard. I guess much of this was because of the guys and girls from the Caribs RFC who showed us where was safe to go. They even met us at the airport with coolers of ice-cold beer that the tourists quickly quaffed (although not me of course, as I am under 18). The beer was drunk right in the airport parking lot, sort of a tailgate arrival party. All the people were friendly, and nothing was stolen. As a matter of fact Stone told me about one taxi that refused to take more than the 3 Trinis, even though Stone had offered the driver a tip because he had driven him right to his villa.

Whoa, and those villas, they are a story on their own, each with its own pool, and big kitchen and air conditioning and cable television. I thought we would be roughing it on tour, but I was wrong. Those two girls, Tess and Erica; they know how to roll. Still, I couldn’t help but feel bad for Old Stone. He had lost his hat and he still had that splinter in his foot. Dr. Thomassin said would it either go away or it would fester, so he shouldn’t worry about it. Stone even asked a second opinion from our other Dr. on tour: Dr. D.. She just told him to “stay Fit to Hit” and to “work out to make out” and other stuff that I can’t repeat here.

Then, on the third day, while Stone was helping cook us all breakfast with all the old boys and Danuta (it was great—bacon, eggs, potatoes) a parrot bit him hard on the finger. Apparently he had been upstairs in the room of the Hotel manager, Linda. I don’t know what he was doing there but he told me she had chickens, which gave a supply of fresh eggs (yeah sure Stone. Does he think I am an idiot?). And that parrot grabbed hold of him and wouldn’t let go. It removed a good chunk of flesh from his index finger.

The breakfast prepared by the old boys was for game day, which was Saturday. I’d been with the tour group now for  almost four days and the whole experience was novel. I was getting usded to moving around with 65 other people. We needed three buses wherever we went, or three boats, like when we went out to Rob Stone’s place on Friday. Can you believe it? Another Stone!

I think the third day was the first day Old Stone really enjoyed himself. I heard that he won the poker game. It was played out on the veranda of Stone’s beautiful house (the T&T one, but actually they call him "Flub.") The rest of us were on one of two docks, sunning and swimming and drinking beer, rum and something Sanchez kept passing around that he called "Hard Wine", apparently an aphrodisiac, whatever that is.  ( I  wasn't involved of course, because I am underage and Parky wouldn’t let me). Anyway the poker scene seemed like something right out of a James Bond movie. You know those exotic, tropical locations, accessible only by boat, with a pile of Trini money and Canadian and American bills in every pot. I overheard the truck driver Alan, who moved all our luggage around, tell Stone that, “It’s not just in the movies!” Don't you think Stone looks a little like Sean Connery - vaguely grizzled, silver, enigmatic and Scots? Stone sure did well in the high stakes poker game, which was only justice I guess because I saw him and Murray paying for the 35 pizzas we had eaten for supper the night before at the Carib Clubhouse.

Anyway, everywhere we went was a big production. However, it didn’t matter because one thing about traveling in a group is that you always have someone to share your experiences with. But let me say this: There are family groups that travel, and school groups that might fill a bus, but there is nothing like traveling with 65 rugby players. They are always laughing and singing and it didn’t matter what we were doing. It was fun!

The whole feeling is rather hard to explain. Take the plane ride over, for example. I didn’t even bother watching the in-flight movie, which was Longshots, This might have been a very appropriate film to watch, as I had heard that we were going to have trouble with the fast and fit T&T Rugby teams. Nope, I didn’t need to watch it cuz there was a hum of excitement on that plane. Some played cards.  I think there was even a poker game before we left Dorval! That hum didn’t stop until we flew back home and almost everyone fell asleep on the flight.

Back to Game Day. It is true that for four whole days we partied and touristed hard. At the beach we had swum in the surf. Oh  yeah, and before I forget, that Gill Florence is

a crazy woman. She swam way out further past the surf line than any of us. I think Stone was worried about her, and I’m pretty sure he kind of likes her, you know in the Biblical sense. This makes sense because she is pretty and looks great in a bikini.

 Anyway, the point is that the tour was a total party for four days, but what amazed me was how everyone put on a different face on Saturday morning, game day.  The women went off on their own and when I passed by them they were practicing on a small patch of grass beside the hotel. The team was listening to Florence. The night before she had been a drunken mess, actually lying on the floor of the lobby as the Old Stone abused her (but not in the Biblical way). Now, here she was telling the women about what to do in the forthcoming game and no one, and I mean no one, was laughing or speaking or making a sound. They were listening to every word she had to say.

It was Same with the men. They listened as Captain Lavery spoke. Every Club needs a Flo and a Lavery, especially on tour. Suddenly, all the wild party-going seemed to have evaporated and everyone was like a completely new species of hard=-nosed primate: The Rugby kind. Game preparation was  all business …. and the Rugby matches themselves? Well the women pretty much tore up the field in a great exhibition of passing and ball control that I think impressed our hosts. There was one young girl, Trischa, and this is apparently her first year of Rugby and very definitely her very first Rugby game on tour. She was on the wing and she scored three tries. All these scores came from a dizzying series of passes through almost every Ste-Anne's players' hands. Wow, I am in love!

And the men’s game? Well that was simply the best game of Rugby I have ever seen. True, I haven’t been around that long, but those T&T guys, could they run! They had moves that didn’t just make a guy lose his shorts, the shorts were ironed and put back in the drawer. Our chances of winning the match didn’t look good when the Caribs RFC pulled ahead 15 to 12, but Jazz kept hammering away in the centre, and eventually he broke through. He set up Too Tall who outran the opposition all the way into the end zone. In the meantime the forwards were crunching it up with the huge Carib players at the front. But most of all, we had that Bryce guy. Stone thinks he is a bit of a wuss, but I have never seen someone tackle like that. And of course his brother Hayden played well, one time racing back and sliding on a ball to save a try. There were two guys from other Canadian clubs, Matt and Alex, and they seemed to fit in like they had been playing with us forever (and I think a lot of the SAB people on the sideline were wishing they will continue to do so. )

Ste-Anne's didn’t just outplay our opponents ( even though I have to admit that we were a little lucky), but we definitely outsang them. There was no luck involved here. Good old president J-M  ( gotta hate those wakeups though) did a rendition of Alouette that I don’t think you’ll find in any children’s song book. And Jessie and Anita did a song about Rugby men that had the Caribs roaring. Our hosts fed us an excellent meal that night and although a few players went out to a night club later, I was in bed early. I did hear the next day that Murray had gallantly organized the bus ride home for the late night revelers, something I was beginning to learn is not an easy thing to do when dealing with drunken Rugby players. That’s why my hat goes off to Tess and Erica for all their organization.

We left Trinidad in three planes for Tobago. Someone told me that these aircraft were so packed because Caribbean Air had put in a new order for the Bombardier Dash-8s, and that this had put an end to the recession back home. I know this is just a joke, but I tell you, wherever we went, we must have created a minor economic boom.

Take the Monday night fish dinner for example. Macintosh, Bruce and Stone went down to the beach and pretty much bought up every fresh fish that had been caught that day. Then in the evening, we all packed into their Villa and Old School and Danuta cooked up a feast. Everyone brought a salad and it was quite a feed. We stayed late and I overheard Macintosh saying to Stone that  “we just invited them to supper, now why don’t they (expletive-deleted)-off,” but I am sure he was just kidding.

He was right, though. We partied late that night (not me, as I was in bed early) on the tiny island of Tobago. Of course there had to be a Flo moment. This is something I was quickly learning. This one came in the pool, where Flo was wrestling with three, maybe four buff men. I would like to tell you more, but as you know, children also read this website, and as I have been constantly told, “What goes on tour…..”

I can tell you some things, however. I can talk about how every day Macintosh went on an early morning walk to Store Beach for a swim. He took Roger with him once, and the young, sort-of Mac-high grad told me it was wild, swimming in the early morning surf. Next time I go on tour, I think I am going to stick closer to Macintosh…..he seems to have the whole thing wired.

The next day we split up. There were was the Stone boat tour, which took a rickety wooden craft out to the reef and a place called Nylon Pool for about two hours. Then there was a second boat that went for the same ride, but included a picnic. I heard later that this boat chestered Jon Phalen and Bryce who were a little late returning to the dock.  Florence said they were late, and that was that. They sailed two men short. I guess she was right. Apparently they showed up a few minutes later and when they learned of the Chester, they took another boat. The rumour is that the gods punished Gill because she got seasick on the way home.

The tour wasn't all partying, and I would haste to give you this impression. The Rugby game was a huge part of the tour, and you could tell that the two clubs were forming a strong bond. It seems obvious Carib RFC want to come up and play us here in Quebec, and I hope we can do as good a job hosting them, as they did hosting us.

I got to play a game on tour as well. On Wednesday, after we got back from Tobago, we played a tough game. Our team had a mixture of old boys like Lester and Graham, and Mei and Stone (although he is pretty much done), and a bunch of younger players like Luc and myself and Andrew. It was a great game, but those Enthusiasts, as our opposition were called, were strong.  They beat us, but I have to tell you I felt good about the game. I enjoyed the warm up, which was run by Captain Lavery  ( it was intense). I enjoyed playing the game in which both teams, even the older, older guys like Old School and Stone and Paul, who was the fly half on the other team (he was a good singer), really threw themselves into the combat. I enjoyed the part where Dr. T. got on to the field with his boys and Bryce set him up for a sure sure try, but, but …well, as I said earlier, what goes on tour ……  And finally, I enjoyed after the match when the Enthusiasts,  with all the Caribs, clapped us through a tight tunnel , I tell you I felt chills. You just don’t see that kind of camaraderie in other sports.

 We sang again that night, and this time it was a great rendition of the “Yanks are Coming.” There was something of an international scandal in this as the Yale women's Rugby team team was there, and Mei’s ditty wasn’t always that complimentary towards our southern neighbors. He kept it as clean as he could.

There was an exchange of plaques following the matches, and all too soon, we found ourselves back on the airplane home. Most everyone fell asleep instantly, but I stayed awake trying to figure this whole tour thing out. One thought kept coming back, again and again. In Tobago, as I mentioned earlier, we had stayed in a bunch of Villas, all on the same street, and each with its own pool and each villa separated by only a few yards. Each house was filled with Rugby players and at night after playing, swimming and snorkeling and other adventures, we visited each other's pads and partied. I guess this is what Rugby Heaven looks like. A heaven of endless fun with friends, who look after and care for each other. But of course the reality is that it’s not endless and all too soon we had to go. Macintosh packed his small bag quickly, as only he can, and went for his last morning swim. Then he put on his Royal Blue bucket hat and walked to the airport.

The rest of us gathered outside Tess and Erica’s villa (they should seriously think of opening a tour company), and boarded the buses to go meet J-Mac. On the plane, as everyone around me snored softly, I thought back over the whole tour and the work we had done to get here.

There were  fundraisers: The night at Clyde’s organized by Lindsay and Moe, who weren't even able to come; the original organizers, Mattie and Robbie, who had to drop out; the security detail run by Caza, who also had to stay behind; there was my mom’s cake, the training and the meetings. Suddenly, there on the plane, it dawned on me. There wasn’t really a point at which the tour began, nor was there a specific moment the tour ended. It didn’t end after the last game, and it won’t be over when the plane lands. 

Just like our hosts’ t-shirts announced,  “Caribs FOREVER!” Yes, it would all keep on going, the training, the group meals, the fundraising, the good times with friends.  I am just embarking on a lifelong tour. As I started to doze off on the plane like the others, the name of the country where this whole crazy tour would be taking place seemed to materialize in front of me on a sign. What did the sign say? Was it Trinidad, or Wales, or Argentina? My eyes started to feel heavy, and I felt myself drifting, drifting away, until I could see the name of that place as clearly as you can read these words. The sign said….SABRFC, SABRFC, SABRFC ……