Received the following from Kurt Wilson:

RRFC Alumni and Friends,

It is with sadness that I inform you that Duncan Rossiter passed away peacefully yesterday at his home in New Zealand. As many of you know, Duncan was the head coach of RRFC for several stints in the late 80's and early 90's and was a large part of the success the club enjoyed during that time.

I asked Phil Meyer and Kent Bayazitoglu to write a few words on Duncan's impact on the club and the lifelong friendships that evolved as a result of his time with Rice Rugby. Phil and Kent went above and beyond, and the tributes below are well worth the read. Please send your thoughts and prayers to Lorna during this difficult time.

Regards,
Kurt Wilson '10
RRFC Alumni President


From Phil Meyer '89:

To understand the importance of Duncan Rossiter to RRFC you have to know a little back story. Forgive an old man his ramblings for a moment and go back to a time when my mullet was magnificent and my accent decidedly Midwestern as a newly arrived freshman at Rice. I was a varsity football player (a lineman “both ways”)(settle down…offense and defense) and I came to Rice thinking I could play football there since it was a small school. I went to meet the coach and the QB at the time was standing in his office. He was taller and bigger than me. That’s when I learned Rice was a Division I school and my football days were over. I had to find another channel for my athletic pursuits and found Dave Shafer at O-Week at the RRFC table at the activities fair. Dave was a Physics grad student and so cool that he convinced me Rugby was for me, if not for the sport, for the girls and the beer… well, the beer anyway. After the fair I went back to Hanszen and met a guy named Keith Couch who’s hometown on his nametag said “London.” “They play Rugby in London right?” He said “hell yes!” So I dragged him to practice and we both started every game that season on a team of future select-side players and American Eagles. We kicked ass. Our winning percentage equaled the Rice Football Team’s losing percentage for nearly the whole year. We won our division in several tournaments and came Second in TRU State after a bull**** ejection of a great player (Mark Leising) halfway through the final. We were feared. I got in Hockey fights with big dudes because I could. My team had my back. Balls out. Top of the World.

If my freshman year was amazing, my sophomore year was the polar opposite. The RRFC struggled with practice turnout and a general lack of both experience and warm bodies. Losing games and players was a difficult and merciless cycle. While we had some small successes like the NOLA collegiate Mardi Gras tournament, we lost regularly to teams we should have beaten. This troubled me since I knew we were as athletic as many of the other teams and certainly smarter than the lunkheads we played back then (Eliminators, SFA, SWT, UH et al). Desperate times for me as I hoped to find a way to turn us around to our former Glory. Jay Roberts and I spent many a night talking on the field after practice or on the phone trying to find a solution. Money from the school for a coach? Naw, they barely helped us pay for gas. Recruiting from strong Rugby high schools? Had to get them interested in coming and then get them admitted, no help from the school there either. It was a grind. Turnout to practices was low, players with experience had transferred out, been injured, were experimenting with “soccer,” had gone off to work, or graduated. The large contingent of experienced, "tough-as-nails" graduate students, who had previously carried us to stunning successes during my freshman year, had all moved on. We were hurting. Needless to say the club needed direction.

My junior year began and we had some great new blood. Former football players, like Teddy Adams and Brannan Smoot, some other pretty dedicated athletic dudes, and even some "funny talking" commonwealth types began to show up to practice and to play. We were winning half of our games, but I still knew we could do better. A couple of South African travelers came through town to hang out and tried to help coach us that semester. It was some help, but not much. Their greatest contribution was the “Sho Sho-loza” song the boys still sing at the start of each game. They were gone in a week or two. We needed a coach to lead us. Jay Roberts and I heard through the grapevine that a Kiwi who had been coaching the Houston Old Boys was also coaching the University of St. Thomas club. It was not going well with St Thomas and this Kiwi grew frustrated with their lack of commitment. He would never want to help us, would he?

I met Duncan Rossiter at the Houston Rugby Tournament in December, 1987, near the end of the first semester of my junior year. Back in those days the tourney was held on the Rice University Campus and it was a gathering of clubs from around the state and some from across the country. It was a big party, kegs everywhere, music and tents and vendors and BBQ. All the teams met in battle and then in friendship around the kegs. At that time I was president and captain of Rice Rugby. We were having a mediocre year, not as bad as the year before, but middling. The storied days of RRFC dominance were on the decline and it was on my watch. I could not stand it. Jay Roberts and I were drinking some beers and mulling over the days’ losses when he said in that most Alabama of drawls, “hey Phil, there’s that Duncan Rossiter with the Old Boys, why don’t you go ask him to coach us.” Surely not… he would not be interested after the day we had… but Jay persisted.

So, after a few pints of piss were in me and my courage was up, I walked up to his circle, tapped him on the shoulder and introduced myself. He was polite, funny, and bold in his observations of our game that day. But he had a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye that kept me talking to him and made me think he just might do it. I wanted to ask, I believed he wanted to help. I had but to ask. So I did . . . He thought, he looked at Lorna, and he grumbled about wasting time on more evenings away from her with a group of young punks that would probably not put in the effort or the time… I protested and said “we need you, we need a leader.” Another beer went by before he relented and agreed to be the Rice Rugby coach. We drank to it.

That next semester, spring of ’88, Duncan Rossiter showed up to every practice unless he was traveling with the Old Boys. He ran our asses off with endless Henny Muller’s. He taught the American college kids the tips and tricks that only a wise old NZ rugger would know and pounded on the principle that you couldn’t play if you were not fit. His voice rings in my head to this day: “They’ll run over you!” “Stay off the piss!” “Together!” “Run the pill down the paddock, lad!” “Only two things come before Rugby: your family and your job.” I could go on. As a team he made us fearless and cohesive. Our fitness was insane, our execution was precise, and our pride swelled with each win. He never hesitated to speak his mind and we always knew he really loved coaching us because he kept coming back.

Duncan did not return to coach my senior year, but his hard work and dedication to making us better men and better rugby players coupled with our newfound dedication to each-other as teammates helped build the foundation for our State Championship in 1989 and our first appearance at collegiate Westerns. He planted the seeds that grew into a juggernaut in years to come. He did return, and he coached more amazing sides of Rice Rugby, I can’t wait to hear their memories…

When Duncan did return to the Old Boys after I graduated from Rice and was in Law School, he brought me back to the game I had left behind. I joined the Old Boys and played 3 semesters from ‘90 to ‘91. He talked me into being the Captain of the Old Boys, against all my better judgment. But he did not doubt me.

I quit in ’92. But you never really quit Rugby. My Rugby friends will always be my best friends. From this day, until my last day. Chief among them will always be Duncan Rossiter. Not only did he believe in me, but he gave me the tools to fulfill his belief and to succeed, on the paddock and off. He is a big reason I fear nothing, no one. He was a fierce warrior, father-figure, dearest of friends and my heart aches for Lorna and his family. I saw him last year on his last trip to Houston. We all heard of his illness an knew it would be the last time we’d see him. No one wanted to acknowledge it. But I had to do what I did long ago at the Houston tournament… I walked up to his circle of friends who all came to say goodbye, I interrupted and politely said, “You know I love you, Duncan. You are a big part of who I am and you always will be.” All he could say was “We said weren’t going to do this,” and we all began to cry. I said, “well I have to do this, you need to know how important to my life you have been. Thank you.” I will never forget him.

Peace and love to you all.

Phil Meyer, Attorney at Law


From Kent Bayazitoglu '98:

In 1993 a dominate, forward-led team graduated nearly all of its best players. The following year was suppossed to be a down year as the remainding Rice team was woefully undersized. Nonetheless, Duncan instilled a huge amount of fitness and toughness into our squad. Amazingly our team (I watched on the sidelines) was able to pull out games we had no business in winning. I'd say to my brother, "we pulled another one out of our arse." It became expected and that spirit lived at Rice Rugby for years after he left. In 93-94 the team went undeafeated before losing a heartbreakear in the TRU final. The following year we won Texas beating a much more athetic A&M team that had crushed us five months prior. Duncan was the differance. Unfortunately circumstances made him leave. I wish we had done more for him for what he did for us. But I know he loved Rice Rugby and he cherished the memories and friendships made. A part of Duncan never left and will never leave Rice Rugby. Thank you Duncan and Lorna for making us a part of your life.