Kenyon Cadavers: Worms on the Rugby Field

Kenyon's Rugby pitch - home to all the ruggers and a whole lot of worms.

Kenyon’s Rugby pitch – home to all the ruggers and a whole lot of worms.

In this post, we’ll be discussing gross stuff like worms and squishing worms and realizing that you just put your hand on a worm that you probably killed and like maybe  it had a future or kids or some kind of kin and a job that it really liked and so you’re 50% really existentially sad and 50% really grossed out so if either of those things don’t appeal to you, maybe it’d be best to skip out on this one.

If you left your room at all last week, you would have seen that it rained. A lot. And if you spent any amount of time examining the soggy earth during one of these rainstorms, or shortly after maybe you saw a worm or two wriggling its way out of the ground in an attempt not to drown. As cute and confusing as this thought is (are worms semi-aquatic? Why haven’t they evolved gills?) it’s really really gross when you realized you’ve stepped on one.

Normally this doesn’t happen to me too often. I tend to stay on paved paths, so only the bravest little wormies are at risk. But during Rugby season, I have the pleasure of going to the Intramural Fields four times a week – rain or shine. Enter the worms, whose desire to live outweighs their desire to test out their maybe-not-existent gills.

Again, I’d be pretty okay with this if only my cleats were on the ground. But in Rugby, we get tackled. And we tackle others. And sometimes we do stretches on the grass. And sometimes, when you’re that close to the ground, you can’t help but notice all these worms on the ground, some alive and some torn in half. Basically the last week of practices have meant staring in the face of death. So in this post, so lovingly called Kenyon Cadavers, I’ll make tribute to all the worms who have lost their lives in the last week and a half:

Worms are really cool as a species. They have no legs, which is hilarious and inspiring. Some worms are really big and some are really small, and some are like 22 freaking feet long. Although I’m generally grossed out when I see a worm, I’m really sad when I see a dead one. They’ve worked so hard. They’ve lived so long. All they wanted to do was not drown – and I get that. I don’t wanna drown, either. I can imagine how hard life could be if I had to burrow my way out of the earth every time it rained just so I could breathe. But worms do it, and although they don’t always do it well, they do their best. And sometimes, that’s all you can ask for. RIP worms on the ground, Rugby pitch or otherwise. You will be missed.

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