In the wake of his sudden, tragic passing, Springfield Rugby’s members wish to share some of the story of Chris Jackson’s impact on our lives. It’s challenging to write about Jacko, not only because we still feel so much pain from his loss, but because he was a man of few words who would maybe prefer no one make too much of a fuss on his behalf. Other than a witty remark to lift spirits or a self-deprecating joke to spark a smile, we imagine—were he here—he’d tell us “No worries, mate.”
That motto was one of many you’d hear from Jacko if you spent time with him, and his time as a rugby player and coach for Springfield Rugby produced many more. “Do your talking with your shoulders and boots” was a favorite of his, and it exemplifies who we knew him as: A person who lived through actions and impact, rather than talking and bragging. On a rugby field, he had plenty he could have bragged about. Jacko came to the US in Spring 2011, almost on a whim, along with two other members of his home club in Grafton, New South Wales, Australia. The three Grafton Redmen arrived just in time for Springfield Rugby, which was in a rebuilding phase, struggling somewhat to find players and credibility. The last match, in Fall 2010, before the Aussies arrived, Springfield traveled to Kansas City with 15 players, played 70 minutes with 14, and the last 35 minutes with 13. But with Jacko, Densh, and Sherman anchoring our side, we showed tremendous rebound in Spring 2011, beating a D2 side and earning a spot in Ruggerfest’s semi-finals. Every training, every match, every scrum, the Grafton Redmen played alongside us as peers, despite probably screaming inside one million times “Why would you do that?!?” They never spoke a harsh word, they guided and helped us to restore our faith that we could play against anyone, even if it was 25 degrees in a driving snow in Wayne, Nebraska. In our 40+ years as a club, those three ruggers coming here, reinvigorating us and providing an incredible buoy to our club, deserves its own chapter.
The charm of Missouri, beyond the Ozarks’ hills, especially captured Jacko, because he came back in Fall of 2011 thanks to the wonderful relationship he’d formed with his future wife, Suzanne. Upon his return, he was volunteered to serve as Springfield’s player-coach extraordinaire. Previous to coming to Springfield, Jacko had assembled a fairly legendary rugby resume, playing professional rugby in Germany (the German version of Capri-Sun—called Capri-Sonne—was the team’s sponsor) and England, as well as captaining championship rugby teams in Australia where he’d played since grade school. On the rugby field, he showed incredible skill for a front-row—his last rugby match ever he played fly-half because of his passing and facilitation skills—along with brute strength in scrums and punishing collisions at the breakdown. For multiple, long-experienced rugby players across the world, literally, Jacko held the honor of having delivered the hardest hits they have ever received. He was a hard man, as an Australian might say. Because he never bragged or spoke much about his laurels, it’s hard to know every honor he earned. We do know he was named to multiple select sides in Australia, he was identified as a top-23 player in Springfield Rugby’s first 40 years by club elders, and he remains on the leader-boards in Grafton Rugby Club’s record books, alongside teammates like Dickson, Collie, Chevalley, Lloyd, Graham, Darkie, and Tonkin.
As a coach for Springfield, he had an incredible impact on our side. He gave us each the confidence to play a simple game with ferocity and a philosophy that resonated: be fitter, want it more, and do the little parts of the game well, and you’ll win. During this coaching tenure, our numbers doubled compared to the Fall 2010 campaign. We consistently competed against—ask someone about the controversial maul in the Islanders game—the teams in our region who consistently were the D3 national champions, and won matches against D2 sides. The 2012-2013 season saw us earn our first playoff berth since the Y2K era. Jacko stepped away from coaching and playing in Fall 2013, to focus on his young, growing family. We were lucky enough to have him as our coach again from January 2023, where he led Springfield to its regional championship, undefeated record, and Sweet-16 victory in the playoffs in Chicago. He remained our dedicated coach through the 2023-2024 season, taking us to the regional championship match in April 2024, even playing touch judge in our Summer 2024 7’s tournament.
The first and truest words someone could say about Jacko: he was a family man. He left family—brothers, a wonderful mother and stepfather, and lifelong friends—in Australia, where he helped form a connection for Springfield players to live and play rugby. Every SRFC member who made it to Grafton found nothing but welcome and kindness, hallmarks of who Jacko was and a reflection of the Clarence River Valley that raised him. In our time there, we heard nothing but warm words spoken about him, both on and off the rugby pitch. He was a tremendously beloved person there, as evidenced by their fast fondness in talking about him and in welcoming those of us from Springfield, whose connection to Grafton was Jacko. They’re wonderful people in Grafton, but we also recognize his vouching for us contributed to our warm welcome there. It’s a testament to the trust and affection he held there that his word carried such weight. I spent 3 months in Grafton and my last conversation with Jacko was a long ode to the area, where we both pined for a warm meat pie from Hank’s Kitchen, a drive along the Clarence River, stopping at Ulmarra, to the coast at Iluka for some fresh seafood. He was a Grafton boy before he came here, and we know his empty seat at those tables and in those changing rooms is deeply felt.
His family here in Springfield, his wife and three children, were his favorite thing to talk about and his clearest priority. One can speak as certainly about Jacko’s devotion to his family as they can about the strength of his rugby presence. Jacko’s brother said, “He was as gentle as he was tough. And, in my opinion, there’s no better measure of a man.” He loved his family, his children, with an unrivaled sincerity. He didn’t idealize them, he didn’t inflate or brag about who they were or what they could do. Instead, he was proud of them, he spoke about them with happiness, with peace in his voice. He laughed easily in sharing their stories, the games they played, and what they meant to him. He unflinchingly attended to them whenever I was around, in his understated and compassionate way. Perhaps, as a man who believed in showing who you are through actions, not words, it would be possible for some other people to not have always known how Jacko felt. Although he maybe didn’t talk at length about everything, one doesn’t have to be a mind reader to see how much he loved his family. The pain his loss has left among his rugby family—his players, his teammates—offers a notion of the loss his family, those he spent the most time with and who relied on him most, must be experiencing. We cannot show enough gratitude for them sharing their husband, their dad, with us during those training sessions and rugby Saturdays.
There are almost no soothing words to share when a tragedy like this occurs. Rugby pales in importance to life circumstances like this. We loved playing rugby with Jacko on our field with us, but we miss him most because of who he was off the field. The mottos he clung to—"Do the hard work first”, “Show some ticker”, “Think about what’s over your heart; play for what’s over your heart”—offer some direction, maybe. That, too, is another testament to the subtle ways he made an impact on other people: he could be your boss or coworker, your coach or teammate, but you probably find yourself thinking about his messages and values outside of work or the rugby pitch. He gave people the confidence, through his easy demeanor, and the spark, through his no-nonsense perspectives, to progress to a better version of themselves. Along the way, he’d make a wry joke, maybe with off-color language in an undeniably Australian spirit, to make things lighter. It’s hard to find the laughter in this moment, with this kind of loss. Maybe we can all take some comfort that his voice still rings in our minds with an irreverent observation, a simple refrain to keep us pushing forward through the hard stuff, to make the extra effort, and to think about what’s over our hearts.
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