Tulum Rugby, Charity & Chaos: My Wild Ride
When most people picture Tulum, they see turquoise seas, yoga mats, and barefoot influencers living off açai bowls and trust funds. Truth is, it’s more like Grand Theft Auto with incense and a heart of gold. Scooter scammers, callous cops, overpriced avocados, pyramid-scheme shamans, and me, stumbling through it all like I’d lived there in another life.
I came for a recharge. Create. Film a salt spray ad. Do some charity. Maybe meet a fiery Latina with traditional values. What I reconfirmed was a love for rugby.
The Pitch Became War
I ended up coaching and playing with Tulum Rugby Club, tearing through Americans, wild, in pure British passive-aggression, and rediscovering the old Bulldog in me. A hand-off became a forearm smash. Tackles landed late on purpose. “Ice Man,” they called me. Not calm, just cold-blooded, playing like a man stuck in the past, when rugby was truly brutal war. I’ve got my doubts about American refs though, let the lads and ladies play! This isn’t the NFL, thats a ruined, stop-start version on our fine game. Shout ‘Play on!’ and keep it flowing—if the game’s flat, that’s on the ref. But beyond the game, Tulum rugby grew into something bigger something real: a grassroots social enterprise lifting Tulum through youth programs, orphanages, and community impact. I’m proud to say I helped build that and will continue to do so.
Madness Off the Field
Life outside the pitch was another story. Men’s groups or ‘grooming gangs’ as I call them, full of broken blokes howling at the moon. Where the orchestrators sell life coaching courses to weak, impressionable lads. More manipulation than mentorship, leaving the fragile needing healing from healing! Influencers sipping $20 smoothies while selling “authenticity.” Police pulling me over six times, cuffing me once. No fines paid, as I explained I wasn’t a gringo. ‘Soy inglés amigo mío, es diferente, a nosotros tampoco nos gustan los yanquis.’ Went down rather well, very amusing.
And yet, there was magic.
I coached self-defence in an orphanage, cut hair for the homeless, did a wicked fashion show, learned photography, reconnected with meditation, and found real friends. Through rugby I was accepted by the locals, the game has superpowers. I did enjoy the yogis - not the over-chakra’d theatre yogis, but the raw ones. Rollies, swearing, breath work, sweat and soul.
The Comeback
Since Tulum, HARE has flown. Best Business Leader finalist at the Modern Barber Awards, Salon of the Year shortlists, multiple wins for branding and shop design.
Tulum is chaos. It’s beauty. It’s the Wild West with Wi-Fi. It’ll chew you up if you come broken, but if you come bold, it might just give you more than you bargained for.
Shoutouts
Kan Hotel for letting me cut hair in their space. Big Sam, the energy for Tulum Rugby. Chaki, founder, fighter, heart of a lion. Felix, my Christian brother.
Final Word
Tulum estate agents, who are in great supply, sell the slow life, the beautiful foods, not the parties. Beach clubs, drop your prices, fill the place with life and love. And Brits, get out of Europe. Your accent carries.
HARE has a charity in Mexico. Wild how life turns out.
Go bold. Go honest. Leave better than you arrived. Tulum see you soon. God speed.
