The Original Idiot Brothers

John received his nickname because his teammates on Western Suburbs misunderstood the coach when he was introduced.  Instead of hearing, "This is John from Montana."  They believed him to have said, "this is John Montana."  Well the name stuck while he lived in Washington, DC. 

In Denver, where Kevin and John would meet, John was simply JT, John or Big Daddy.  Montana wasn't such a unique thing living in Colorado.  But when John moved back to DC, a friend of his on PAC Rugby remembered him as Montana and the name stuck again.

His favorite rugby tournaments include the Ottawa Indians' Summer 15s tournament and Maggotfest held in Missoula, MT.

John has played since 1993, with four clubs:  Helena All Blues, Western Suburbs, Denver Highlanders, and PAC Rugby.

John lives in Washington, DC.

The stories below are only a fraction of what happened during their adventures.  They were a regular pair of Idiots.  Enjoy!!!!

The term idiot brothers first became widely used during the Denver Highlanders Second Campaign to Maggotfest in Missoula, MT. 

Kevin, John, Yippy (all Idiot Brothers) and Jim and Jethro (two other players) rented a winnebago to drive from Denver to Missoula.  During the drive and the hours that followed, Kevin became quite intoxicated, as did John. 

Kevin, wearing his candy necklace put the edible jewelry in his mouth and preceded to gnaw on the sweet food.  Pieces of candy dropped to the floor and everyone continued to stare at the Australian prop. 

About that time, a girl asked him nicely if he could step aside (he was leaning against an ATM machine.)  He nod yes, stepped forward to let her in.  Just as she put her Cash Card into the machine, he stepped backwards, checking her into the cash machine, crushing her little body with his. 

The other Highlanders insisted that John Take Kevin back to the winnebago.  When John questioned why he was responsible, the group said, "Because he is your idiot brother.  You have to take care of him." 

From then on, we would refer to each other as Idiot Brother 1 and Idiot Brother 2.

I thought about what made us Idiots and found 3 things in common.  Love for Rugby, love for the front row, and love for beer.  So I slowly added all of the other Idiots I played with/against during my career to our brotherhood and slowly the Idiots grew to record numbers.  And that is where it stands today.
 

Kevin received his nickname from a cult like film from Australia. 

Bad Boy Bubby was the story of a 35 year old man that was locked in his 2 room home his entire life.  He grew up with his mother who feared that Bubby may too abandon her like her husband did (Bubby's Pop).  With scenes of tortured animals, incest, and murder, the plot thickens as Bubby adventures out into the streets of Adelaide, joins a band, molests old ladies, gets thrown in jail, and falls in love. 

See the web page for more information:
Bad Boy Bubby Web Page

While this story has nothing to do with Kevin, Kevin brought an Americanized video tape of this movie back to the US and the guys on the team found it so disturbing that they labeled Kevin Bad Boy Bubby for even knowing this film existed.  Well the name took and he has been bubby ever since.

Kevin lives in Brisbane Australia and started his rugby at age 7. 

The first annual "Powerfully Built Men Prop Golf Adventure" saw Bubby and myself playing golf for the first time on a 3 par golf course. Bubby first tee off went directly in the lake. Mine looked like a ground ball in baseball, but almost made it to the green off of pure strength of hitting. 

I later found out, it isn't as important to hit it hard, rather hit it....many a sod clump was lost that day. 

At the end of the day, where we managed to stay about 3 behind par on every hole, we found ourselves eating Thai food and heading over to the Landing Strip, where we watched some of Denver's lesser strippers take it off.
 

Baseball, Beer and Babes

On another adventure, I won two tickets to the Colorado Rockies Baseball game and invited Kevin for a night out. 

About the 3rd inning, we realized:

1) Neither of us like baseball and 

2) the people sitting next to us were getting tired of us constantly running to the beer line and dissing baseball

So for the rest of the night, we stood by our friend Jose at the beer stand and discussed politics, rugby, women, Australia and beer while drinking several of Jose's stock. 

Afterwards we went to a fine bar, Jackson's Hole Sports saloon and drank Newkie Brown 'til we both could barely stand and somehow found our way home.
 
 
 

Add Matt, a English Rugger, and mayhem would follow.  The day started with a phone call.  Matt had crashed on my couch and I stood in the living room wondering who was calling at the ungodly hour of noon on the Sunday before Memorial Day.  It was Bubby.  He was raring to attend the Team Memorial Day Pig Roast.  Turns out his wife was ill with the flu or what not and he was looking forward to drinking with his buddies. 

He arrived at the house about a hour later and they were off to the party in the Denver Suburbs. The entire way, Matt kept teasing Kevin about losing to England in Cricket.  The entire debate seemed meaningless and I pulled into a convenience store to pick up a couple beers for the road.  Kevin had to run into the store after me to pay for the beer and copenhagen (I seemed to have lost my wallet the night before at some dance club.) 

We were soon off again and finding ourselves drinking and eating like kings.  Several of the teams older and more well off players hosted the event and there was beer and games for everyone.  We drank for quite a while, until the early evening rain showers came sweeping in and we found ourselves relocated to a nearby bar.  We joined our teammates in a game of darts. 

Kevin managed to hit, not only the fan on the ceiling, but a ladies purse, and the floor quite often. When he went to apologize to the lady, he decided to help himself to her pitcher of beer. It became a little tense when her husband, who just happened to be an FBI agent, came over.  There was no problems though, the wife and her husband laughed at Bubby's drunken Aussie accent.

Bubby had planned on crashing at my house that night, but got the urge to sleep in his own bed.  He called a taxi and traveled north to his house.  The Cost:  $40.  Not called Idiot Brothers for nothing.