WHAT DOES A WORLD CLASS THUMPING look like? Well, it looks a lot like this, even though this doesn't accurately reflect the hurtin' that Kutztown University's rugby club put on the University of Connecticut this afternoon in Berks County under apocaplytically gray Grantland Rice skies that turned into sugary April sunshine by the end of a match that gave new meaning to the losing team's "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" songfest on the miserable five-hour bus ride home.

I chose this photo to illustrate today's column because it is both representative and ironic. Representative because it illustrates Kutztown's "in your face" defensive pressure that thwarted the Huskies at every bark. Ironic because it is one of the few photos I have of the game without the ball in Kutztown hands. And you have to have a lot of ball possession to score as many points as the Fightin' Amish poured upon The English from Yankeeland.

How many points? Well, I've watched, seen, played, refereed, coached or run touch in thousands of rugby matches since I was first blooded in 1968, and I never saw one team score as many points as Kutztown did against UConn. It was like New Zealand vs Namibia. I've read about matches with scores like this but I've never seen one live. What's impressive, before I tell you the score, is that UConn never gave up. Kutztown has it's ticket punched to the dance next week in Albuquerque, N.M. where the NCAA collegiate rugby Sweet Sixteen playoff tournament has Kutztown seeded number four. But UConn, a solid, but on this day, undermanned, side, showed up to play. In fact, they scored their only try late in the second half.

That's why I have that headline on this piece.. Not because I'm being nice to UConn, but because it's an opportunity to bust Gregg Jones balls. And Gregg, my former Whitemarsh teammate, is Kutztown's well-known rugby coach the same way Joe Pa is the well known football coach of another state-supported college in Pennsylvania. The only difference between the two is that Paterno looks younger.

So let me pick up the story on the sideline of today's match shortly after the final whistle. I had walked over to congratulate Coach Jones on his team's fine "tuneup" for Kutztown's national championship run, but he was muttering testily while pouring over a scorecard that looked harder to figure out than Chinese arithmetic. So many fives, so many twos. And they didn't add up to the number he wanted. He gave me a look like I knew what he was talking about. "Do you believe these guys? Six lousy points and they couldn't do it.." It reminded me of the Superman movie sequel where evil mastermind Robert Vaughn complains to Richard Pryor, "One little thing I ask you to do and you couldn't kill Superman."

What was the final score, I asked? "Ninety. . .eight. . . no, four! Ninety-four."

"To five," I added helpfully.

"To FIVE!" he repeated in disgust.

That's it for now, guys. Wake me when Kutztown scores a hundred.