Showdown in Shukhuti

It's just after 10am in Shukhuti, western Georgia, and an Orthodox priest is preparing to drink wine from an empty ball before the start of one of this region's most unusual sporting rituals. More from my regular column in The Moscow Times:

The huge scrum of bodies heaved its way through the village, smashing through fences, gardens and orchards, scaling walls and scrabbling across muddy ditches. Men screamed out in pain and passionate determination, grappling and grunting as they battled for control of the heavy leather ball which is the focus of the traditional Georgian ritual called Lelo Burti.

Lelo Burti is only played once a year, on Easter Sunday, and only in the village of Shukhuti. Men from the upper and lower halves of the village compete against each other in a spectacularly chaotic, no-holds-barred struggle to get the ball to a river on the other half’s side. Whichever side gets there first is the winner; there are no other rules.

It’s a carnival of barely-restrained aggression, fuelled by gallons of home-made wine. The morning before the game, players gathered to drink toasts from the empty ball, before it was packed tight with 16 kilogrammes of soil, then topped up with yet more wine.

The local Orthodox priest, who always blesses the ball before the match begins, told me that while Georgia was under Soviet rule, the authorities wanted to ban Lelo because of its links to the Church. “They wanted to destroy people’s traditions, and by doing that, they wanted to destroy their national identity. The Communists hated Jesus Christ and our Georgian traditions,” said the genial Father Saba, whose burly physique attests to his past as a Greco-Roman wrestler.

Lelo is still played in Shukhuti in exactly the same way as it has been for generations. It’s seen in Georgia as a predecessor to rugby, and injuries are borne proudly: “Of course I’m not afraid. There’s no fear in this game!” yelled one bruised and dirt-spattered player as he threw down his ripped shirt and charged back into the fray. “This is our tradition!” shouted his friend. “Long live Georgia!”

After the match ended, the ball was taken to the cemetery and placed as a tribute on the grave of a young man who died during the past year. Throughout the graveyard, mouldering balls from earlier contests lie next to headstones. A wooden table was then set up in the churchyard; food and wine were laid out, and villagers came together to celebrate, with Father Saba leading the festivities. After a day of ferocious brawling, one of the first toasts, as so often in Georgia, was for peace.