“You Just Know When It’s Gone”: When Rugby Dreams Snap in a Moment

Hugo Hayman

By Angus Hayman

The double-edged sword that is Rugby Union. It gives as much as it takes. There’s joy, the

mateship, the adrenaline, the victories. But when it cuts, it cuts deep. Few things rival the

heartbreak of an injury that takes you off the field, especially one that ends your season. For

every player chasing glory under the Saturday sun, just think that there’s another doing rehab in a cold gym, watching from the side-lines.

For myself I unfortunately lived the most feared experience of every relative and friend of a

rugby player. I was sitting in front of the TV with mum as we watched my Brother play,

casually chatting through the Saturday Avro fixture when suddenly, He was down. Then he

was gone. The camera followed the play, drifting away, and we were left in the dark.

For the next few minutes, the broadcast didn’t show him. There were no replays, no updates,

just the silence of uncertainty. We didn’t know if he was okay. That kind of wait leaves a mark.

When we finally got the call from Hugo, it was just incoherent sobbing from both his end and

Mum’s. No words. Just the raw sound of knowing something had gone terribly wrong.

It wasn’t just a knock or a limp off the field. It was one of those injuries. The kind that ends

seasons, sometimes careers. Hugo had re-ruptured his ACL, again. A cruel echo of the past.

"Anyone who’s done one knows the feeling," Hugo said later. "Twist and pop. I think I knew

it was gone, but I was in denial. Even tried stretching to see if I’d blown my hammy or calf.

Georgie did the tests and the look on her face was enough."

There’s a unique brutality to season-ending injuries. They steal not just your ability to play,

but your routine, your identity, your momentum. For Hugo, rugby isn’t just something he does it’s a framework for his life.

"When you really think about it, a rugby season gives you structure and framework. Work,

travel, even socially and nutritionally it’s all mapped around Saturday afternoon."

Now, all of it is gone.

Worse still, Hugo has walked this road before. The second ACL blow is heavier. The body remembers, but so does the mind.

"With the gift of hindsight, there’s a lot I would do differently," he admitted. "I know how

isolating these times can get. At the end of the day it’s up to me and that can be daunting."

This time, the shadow of loneliness lumes larger. The season he was supposed to be a part of is in full swing. The Beasties are building something special. The chatter is full of finals and

form. And yet, Hugo will remain on the side-line.

It’s the exact place Archie Gavin has only just escaped.

Ten months earlier, Archie had suffered a Lisfranc fracture in his left foot. The kind of injury that leaves even seasoned athletes second guessing.

Archie Gavin

"I had many setbacks throughout my rehab process," he said. "Mostly due to the nature of the injury. I learnt so much from it though, especially about patience and resilience."

Unlike Hugo, Archie’s return has already begun. Last Saturday, against Warringah he ran out

onto Woollahra Oval for the first time in nearly a year. The crowd erupted.

"My first game back from injury playing for Easts has been a highlight of my career"; Archie said, still buzzing. "Being back on the park with my good mates has given me a new love for the game and especially the club."

It was the kind of reception that wrapped you up in warmth. Fans roaring, teammates

charging in, and Archie, back in the colours he’d waited nearly a year to wear again. It wasn’t

just about him. It was about what he represented: hope.

Because for every Hugo starting the journey, there’s an Archie just emerging from it.

"There were definitely dark days,"; Archie admitted. "But staying patient and trusting the

process became everything. Improvement comes by small increments."

The emotional strain can often outweigh the physical. Hugo has already recognised the battle ahead, especially having done it before:

"It’s almost a cruel injury,"; he said. "I wasn’t even in pain and could walk around, which

made it harder to accept."

Even watching others return can feel like a twist of the knife. "To be honest, seeing Archie

out there was a pretty bleak reminder of what lies ahead," Hugo said. "But I was absolutely

buzzing for him. His happiness coming off the paddock reminded me this will be over sooner

than later."

"The best moments of my rugby life have come since doing my first ACL,"; Hugo reflected.

And I have no doubt they will again."

That’s the quiet power of the comeback. For now, Hugo is in the long, lonely start of it. Days

filled with the mundane and repetitive nature of rehab. But somewhere down the line, if he’s

lucky and relentless, there’s a Saturday afternoon at Woollahra waiting for him too.

A field, a cheer, a jersey. A moment when the pain fades and the only thing that matters is the game again. As Archie proves, that moment does come. And when it does, it’s worth every lonely step along the way.