July Alumnus of the Month: Jack Atkinson

Atkinson at hooker vs. London, Ontario in ’81. Then post brain surgery in 2001.

When did you play?
Funny, but my actual on-field stay with the club was rather short. I joined at the beginning of 1980. I was fairly new to campus, and I saw a flier posted that read “Play Rugby.” The names on it were Tom Raboine, Dan Schimpke, and Dennis O’Dell; all legendary figures in their own individual ways. Anyway, there was a meeting at CCRB, where they showed part of “The Great Match.” Maybe for fear of guilt by association, Raboine missed the meeting; Dan, who was a really good organizer, and had a great boot, ran it and Dennis chimed in with his wisdom (you had to know Dennis to appreciate his…um…ways). Two other guys who joined that season were Greg Lamkin and Dave Keiras (who played first side from the start).

Being totally new to the club, I didn’t know that it was an “area team,” with grown-ups, as were most university based clubs at the time. I believe that, if the club were (at least) 50% students, then the university club sports folks didn’t have any issues with non-students participating. This made for a tremendous learning experience, both on the pitch and off. It also made for an interesting first few practices for me, at the Coliseum, as I wondered who these “old” guys (age about 26) were. The first guy I recall was this dude named Chris Penoyer, who absolutely clobbered me.

We had outstanding talent: Billy Chung, Lenny Pitt, Joe Hymes, Keith Stone, Greg Rose, David Weber, the aforementioned Raboine, Tony Menyhart, Jack Goodman, Brian Van Dusen, Hal Chapman (not to be confused with Ian Chapman), Rich King (who, years later, introduced me to the “garbage plate”), Pete Maglocci, Joe Kreder, and Tommy McLoughlin were excellent players. Other noteworthies included Ken Phillips, Bruce Kingsbury, Dan Mascellino, Mark Curry, and Alex Mann. For part of my first season we had this little Englishman, Ken Walters, a hooker with a quick foot who, according to Weber, would occasionally break out a smoke at halftime (on the pitch, I might add). Aah, those were the days! The “spiritual leader” was Arnold Cowmeadow who, in myriad ways, was one of the most influential club members of his time, perhaps of all time.

Going on about players, that fall (1980) season is when we really hit a recruiting jackpot: Ian Chapman, Rod Sorenson, John Hartman, Lane Bertrand, Don Hoch, Pete Schwartz, Harry McGee (who had returned after a few years away), Kevin Cunningham all joined and, shortly after that, Mike Lisi. I think that that set the foundation for the growth of the club well into the 80s.

I look back on those first few seasons and think about the guys who I packed down with and against: Stone, Rose, McGee, Chapman, Mascellino, Lamkin, and they were just the front row guys. I can’t imagine a better way to learn the game itself and the responsibilities that come with being on such a good club.

The fall of 1981 was really my last full season, as I joined the Marines (off to Quantico!) shortly before the club went off to Victoria. Within a year or so, Paul LeBlanc (I played in his first game at UM, methinks, in Ft. Wayne.), Jeff Hagan, Dave Perpich, John Moore, and a host of other quality players joined, and the club was a powerhouse.

In the mid/late 1980s I’d come back and play from time to time, with one season (spring 1987) of pretty much full time. Due to various life circumstances, I’d pick up the occasional game as the years passed. The nice thing about that was it kept me in the rugby/UMRFC circle. I also played part-seasons with the Boston RFC and PAC (long before they joined the super league).

Special honors:
I was “social chair” from fall 1980 through fall 1981. Once I figured out what I was doing, it was a lot of fun. My first two seasons we had a lot of get-togethers at “The Manor,” 2030 Hill St., where a bunch of players (who had something resembling real jobs) lived. Talk to anyone from that 78-81 era and likely they’ll remember The Manor and the Cowmeadow Farm, two great places to do many forms of celebrating. I distinctly remember the latter as, in my first visit, after two really good games against Scioto Valley, Rich King conned me into taking a bite out of a red pepper (gotta remember, I’m a city kid). Ugh! As time went on Ian Chapman helped me a lot with party preparations, and a few times Dan Mascellino put together some really great food. They were pretty hilarious times.

Favorite memory:
I wasn’t a good enough player to do anything noteworthy on the pitch. I knew my job: provide ball, get to the breakdown, and support the play. To me, there are play creators, play finishers, and play supporters. There can be a good amount of overlap, but one of the three is likely your primary role. I was very much the third.

With that, my favorite memory is something that didn’t happen on the field. It was when, at the 50th anniversary celebration, I pulled together a bunch of guys to sign a framed photograph of Tom McLoughlin to be given to his widow. I think that I got upwards of 30 guys from that 78-83 period to sign it. Tommy Mac, as we called him, along with Arnold Cowmeadow, was someone who epitomized what rugby was (hopefully, still is) all about: giving it your best on the field, but still being able to leave it behind when the final whistle blows. While he frequently played first side, he was most at home as B side captain, at which he was outstanding. As I once heard it said, by some long ago Englishman, “I can’t remember anything that happened on the field, but I can remember the friends I made and the fun we had.”

On to coaching!
I had actually long thought about starting up a rugby club; in Detroit, believe it or not. Back in the 1990s (which sounds a bit frightening), I was working at Henry Ford Health System. A co-worker, who refereed high school football, said “if the kids in Detroit had the facilities and coaching that the kids in the suburbs have, they’d win all of the titles. There’s that much talent, but they don’t have the resources.” Before I had a chance to actually put dream into action, “Uncle Henry” declared me redundant. In early 2000 I was gabbing with Mike Brooks and he made a few mentions about the club he ran; high school level in Ann Arbor. I had gone to a couple of their matches previously. I figured, sure, come to a few practices, work with the forwards a bit; those who can, do; those who can’t, teach; right? So, I show up at practice, actually me and Jack Fisher. I look around and quickly come to the conclusion that WE are the coaches! Greater things have probably come from lesser beginnings but, I must say, it was the start of a long and, mostly, fun ride. Jack was a ton of help that season, as I was completely clueless about back line play. Oh, you mean that wings and fullback cover kicks?

Likely my most noteworthy moment in the early coaching days came when I had a grand mal seizure during practice, in early 2001. The kids thought I was goofing around as I stumbled around the field. I think it was when I hit the deck and started turning purple that they realized that it wasn’t a comedy routine. The great irony is that I had been considering getting a cell phone, for emergency purposes, but it was the kids who went over to their kits and whipped them out. Anyway, after a night in the ER (ask Mike Brooks about that), I made it to the parents meeting. Funny thing is I remember we had a club scrimmage on a field we weren’t supposed to be using (I didn’t play.), so Dan Mascellino applied the silver tongue, so to speak, to the city rep who was wondering who approved our presence (answer: nobody, that’s who). Three days later they pulled a benign tumor out of my head and, two days after that, I was back on the sidelines in Brighton. Keith Stone, the (outstanding) Brighton coach, later remarked that for quite some time his players remembered the coach with the staples on his head.

With time we built a solid club, now known as Washtenaw RFC. One thing that’s really never gotten in my way is ego, so both I and the team were fortunate to have guys helping out, some as full time coaches, who have (individually) forgotten more rugby than I’ll ever know: Mike Brooks, Jack Fisher, Jim Hagerman, Fred “Kiwi” Keeling, Tom Raboine, and Greg Rose all chipped in on the success of the team. I’d like to think that the main thing that I did was get out of the way and let them do their jobs, which is what da head mutha is supposed to do, anyway.

By 2008 I think that I was losing my coaching fastball, and it was time to move on. In the fall I had gotten involved with an organization called Ele’s Place (www.elesplace.org), which provides group support to grieving kids (and their families); all for free. Having operated successfully in Lansing since 1991, the Ann Arbor shop opened in 2007. I don’t like doing much of anything at half-speed and, having “been there,” I knew that this would be no different. There was no way that I could combine the two (rugby season, if you’re doing it right, is very consumptive). Fortunately, in Jim Hagerman (with the ever-present Jack Fisher, aka “Kurt Rambis”) as the head coach, and Aaron “Tex” Dodd assisting, the WRFC continues to thrive. The positives that come out of both the kids and their parents, and the compliments that come from experienced players who drop by to watch, show that WRFC is every bit as strong, likely stronger now, than ever.

So, like, does this guy have a job?
Well, for now, anyway, but I’d better not spend too much time filling out questionnaires. In the Summer of ’99, basically in need of a job (one might say desperate), I went to temp services at UM. I got assigned to the law school (or, Law School, if you are so inclined). I worked as a temp secretary for seven months. Given that I barely had two nickels to rub together (rather humbling at age 40, with a master’s degree), I was not in a position to be choosy. Anyway, I saw an opening for a position called “registrar,” and submitted a resume. Fortunately, by that time I had made something of a (good) name for myself, so I had support (crucial, for you first time job seekers). Also, fortunately, the position had been somewhat re-engineered, which made me a bit more of a contender. Apparently, Y2K worked in my favor as, not only was I beginning my coaching career, but I was also beginning my tenure as an “academic administrator.” Twelve point five years later I’m still trying to figure out what that means but, hopefully, my employer will never catch on.

Valuable things I’ve learned:
• Life is all about relationships. If you’re picking a job (or, an employee), a school, or a significant other, “fit” is the most important part. It’s pretty easy to find someone who can perform the tasks. Good luck finding the person who’s ready to work on Monday morning; doesn’t bring emotional baggage, and; can get along with their colleagues;
• “know thyself” Stick to that and you’ll stay out of a lot of trouble, and minimize bad decisions. More than one person I’ve known has made bad/disastrous decisions because they didn’t have a good idea of their realistic strengths and weaknesses;
• Don’t be a whiner, or chronic complainer. Nobody wants to attend a pity party;
• Get/stay in shape, and stop making excuses to avoid some form of work out. I wasn’t athletically gifted to be all that great of a player but, at times, I do think about how much better I might have been had I really pushed myself to be more fit. I guess it’s both good and not-so-good that I’m in better shape at 53 than I was at 21;
• Anything in life worth having comes at a price;
• Self-confidence is a good thing; humility is a better thing. Never take yourself too seriously, cuz I can guarantee that nobody else is.
• It’s more fun to succeed as a team than as an individual. I’ve finished seven marathons (but I’m nowhere near Kevin Cunningham when it comes to fitness challenges), and several half-marathons. Finishing is a nice accomplishment but, ultimately, you just get in your car and go home. Really, how much is there to talk about when it comes to running? Rugby, on the other hand, was different; you could savor the good stuff, and discuss the not so good, with your teammates. In other words, you could share the experience, no matter what level you played. That’s what I like.

Rugby then and now:
I sometimes think of rugby as one of the few things in life were being organized became something of a detraction. When I started we didn’t have leagues or playoffs. You created your own schedule (Weber was a master at that craft. He’d schedule our A side against a powerful A side, our B side against a good A side from another club, and our C side against the B side of the powerful club; made for great competition.), and tournaments were generally by invitation. I can understand and support having some sort of playoff tournament for youth teams, cuz the kids are more into that sort of stuff but, at higher levels, I think it places too much emphasis on the top sides. Part of the beauty of rugby is that the focus was always on getting the opportunity to play, whether on the A side or the D side. If you played the match, no matter where, then you earned your keep. No doubt the A team had more star quality, but the culture was still about just being able to play. Too much emphasis on winning removes a lot of the fun and, if it’s not fun, then you shouldn’t be doing it.

As far as rules changes go, the one the bugs me is the substitution rule. I’m fine with injury subs (if it really is something that requires leaving the field, as safety always comes first, rather than a “convenience injury”), but not “he’s having a lousy game, so let’s put someone else in.” Again, fine at lower levels, cuz you want everyone to get a game, but once you get to college A side or adult level play, then the club that starts the match should be the one that finishes it.

Also, I’m not so keen on what appears to be this desire to keep the ball in the hands of the attacking side. I think that one of the beauties of rugby (union) is how free the play is. Correct me if I’m wrong (that means, Steve Cohen, what you think?), but the rules seem to have been revised (esp. hands in the ruck for the halfback) to keep the attacking side moving forward. As I’ve heard some say, it turns the club into 15 wing forwards (cuz guys my age still say things like “wing forward” and “second row”).

Hacksaw?
The story is not as interesting as the nickname itself, but here goes. Turn the calendar back to early 1980. Me being a club newbie of not particularly standout talent, the selectors needed an easy way to remember my name. Remember, we already had a “Jack” (Goodman). It wasn’t uncommon for the selectors (in this case, Joe Hymes and David Weber) to dub someone with a temporary nickname. For some reason, long lost in the sands of time (I don’t think that Raboine, the forwards captain at the time, can even remember.) they dubbed me “Hacksaw.”

It managed to stick to the point that there was no small number of people connected with the club who had no idea as to my real name and/or assumed that that was my last name (maybe they were fans of Mike Hammer). To this day Ian Chapman’s wife, Marty (for Martha, that is), has said that she’d feel too awkward calling me “Jack.” I’d probably feel goofy hearing it, too. I also recall Dan Mascellino referring me to his mother as “John Hacksaw.” Hey, there are much worse things for which a guy could be known.

Closing thoughts: what’s it all about?
People, that’s what. Rucks and mauls come and go; you have good matches and bad ones, both as an individual and as a team. The constant, however, is the people involved: players, coaches, selectors (“couldn’t pick their noses!”), club administrators and, at the youth level, parents. They’re all in the mix and, somehow, rugby leaves a mark on them that is permanent. Whether you’re a select side player, or someone who just wants to be part of a team and make a contribution, as long as you’ve worn the blue jersey, you’re part of the club. Always remember those who came before you and those who will follow, and wear the jersey with pride. Somehow, more than any other sport that I’ve encountered, people who have had a direct involvement in the game will, to some extent, identify with it. As Jim Bouton once wrote, “you spend your life gripping a ball and, one day, you realize it was the other way around, all the time.” You don’t leave rugby; you just take occasional breaks.

With that, we have the indelible stamp of the Michigan team. We’ve had more characters than “Dallas:” Bootsbury (aka, The Great Gaston), Captain Silly, the Saw Brothers, Greyhound, Masso, T-Mac, to name but a few. We’ve reached the summit (literally as, to my understanding, a Michigan rugby player was the first American to climb Mt. Everest. Then again, that’s according to Bert Sugar, where anything is possible.) in the fields of medicine, law, engineering, education, entertainment, architecture, news media, and public service. We’ve been represented in the Peace Corps, the Marine Corps, and the Navy.

Still, we’re also here to have fun, and it wouldn’t be right for me to conclude without a couple of funny stories. The first was off the field, the second and third during a match:

• Chicago, March 1981. We’d had a good day against the Lions (won one, tied one, as I recall). I’d never been to Chicago before so, late in the evening, Pete Schwartz and I decided to take a walk in the neighborhood (Lincoln Park). We come across this boat on a trailer, a speed boat, and the owners are a bit in the bag. “Want to take it out on Lake Michigan?” Pete and I thought better, and politely declined. Well, not ones to be denied, the owners decided to fire up the engine…in the street. Loud is not the word to describe it and, somehow, I don’t think that the locals were too thrilled. Actually, that Chicago trip was pretty funny as it was my first road trip where we went in my car, a 1972 Datsun 510. It didn’t have a gas cap, so I used a wash cloth. Rod Sorenson (who, at 6’5” had to squeeze in) called it the “Molotov Datsun;”
• OK, first good match story, courtesy of David Weber. Playing a match, lineout forms, Weber is standing at scrum half. Tom Raboine walks up to him, totally incensed, fire in his eyes, and says, “if you don’t do something about this, then I will!” Weber had no idea if he was mad at his team, the other team, or the referee. He just knew that Raboine had had enough;
• Another match story, courtesy of Raboine and Brian Van Dusen: club is playing in Windsor. Some guy on the Borderers is playing totally dirty, cheap shots, whole stroke. The Michigan guys decided that they had had enough; time to take action. They go to town against this guy. Finally, the Windsor guy retaliates; referee sees the retaliation and orders him off. As he’s leaving, the (late) great Arnold Cowmeadow shouts, “don’t order him off yet; we’re not done with him!”

Not bad for a team that started in shirts borrowed from a delicatessen.