In his college years, someone saw The Bearded Man's overly celtic beard, and they decided that he was a perfect candidate for the school rugby team. As it turns out, a beard is basically the only qualifying criterion for one's rugby able-to-playness. It's not like our hero is risk-averse. It's not like he even has the remotest semblance of self-preservation in his DNA. Still, something in his better judgment told him this was probably a mistake. In his first ever game, a ball was lobbed straight at our hero. Being reasonably self-aware, he caught the ball and tried to run with it as a pack of even brawnier bearded gentlemen chased him down. Well, they caught up with him alright. And when they did, they shattered his pelvis and dislocated his shoulder in the same play. So much for rugby. We tend to forget that we're all just Skin & Bone. Well, The Bearded Man certainly saw both that day.