Rugby Season Started Without Telling Me...

The Tri Nations is winding down, the Top 14 is back a few weeks, the Magners starts this weekend but I'm more concerned with the distant distant future and the World Cup in NZ in 2011. Australia, who share a group with Ireland, are rapidly looking like the 2nd best team in the World. Players like the 12 year old James O'Connor is finally starting to bulk up a bit (Ed - Christ, he was actually born in 1990 - he definitely doesn't remember communism) and they've really got a team that looks like it's going to be maturing nicely around September 2011.

It remains to be seen whether Ireland are getting over the hill or whether there will be just the right amount of youth and experience in the team by then. Certainly would be nice not to repeat the awful experience of the 2007 World Cup.

Anyhoo, here is the clip, that inspired me to write this little note, of Austrailia looking impressive.

No. 1 Reason Not To Watch The FIFA World Cup

...Or at least not to listen to it.

No, it's not Bono's annoying ad for the tournament on ESPN.


No, it's not that Sepp Blatter is a corrupt bureaucrat and that one can never be sure of any result in football over the past twenty years.



It's not even about the prospect of watching France Vs. England and being truly confused as to who you want to lose more. It's about the vuvuzela -



Here's an alarming taste of things to come. Try if you can to avoid listening to the annoying buzzing in the background of this all SA Super 14 final played out in Soweto this weekend.



Now imagine that noise for a 90 minute football match (you might survive an 80 minute rugby match) and you have the most convincing argument to travelling to South and North America (Venezuala and New York to be specific) and completely ignoring that the World Cup is actually taking place.

Enjoy! Be sure to let me know when you lose the will to live.

Could This Be Our Year?

I can barely bring myself to write this. It's taken me two days to bring myself to perhaps utter in a public domain the thought that must be running through so many Irish men and women's minds... And still I'm not sure if I can bring myself to say it directly. Could this finally be the year where Ireland win the Six Nations?

Oh no, I've said it out-loud! For the last two days I've been afraid to even fully articulate the thought in my head - now, I've definitely jinxed it.

For the last two years that I've been living in Paris I've been waiting for last Saturday's result. At least three times I've had to endure Irish defeats to the XV of France and then face my clubmate's jeering. This was on top of the massacring I would get for my own poor results and served only to compound my embarrassment.

In 2007, Ireland were favourites going into the tournament were playing their historic first match at Croke Park and lost with the last kick of the game as the restart was fumbled and France ran in for a try in the dying seconds. Crushing our Grand Slam ambitions in their infancy. Extra insult to injury was added when we missed out on winning the tournament by a points difference of 4 to France.

In the World Cup in Spetember 2007, we were in the group of death and died. The less said about that tournament the better. This helped to compound a particularly miserable time for me in the Autumn of that year.

And in the Six Nations 2008 we forgot to tackle Vincent Clerc which put shut to that tournament for us before it had begun. Here's a clip of Jonah Lomu showing how it's done -

At least that tournament saw the end of Eddie Hobbs... sorry, I mean Eddie O'Sullivan... as manager and perhaps saw the death of the cult of the personality that had pervaded the team.

So in some ways the ups and downs of my own performance were being mirrored by the shortcomings of the Irish team (albeit in a different sport, at a different level of performance and being far closer to achieving their ultimate goals before exploding in an angry ball of rage and self-doubt brought on by that unidentifiable Irish-Factor which I will return to later).

A Sea-Change?

For for the last 2 years, and for another five before that, I've been watching Irish teams of various forms and at various stages in their attempts to win the Six Nations hitting a brick wall when it came to France. So much so that we invented a trophy for ourselves seemingly in the "Triple Crown" for the team that beat the three other teams between England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales.* It was as if we were saying "Sure we'll never beat France anyway" to me.

One can never be comfortable watching Ireland. The match on Saturday was 80+ minutes of anxiety right up to the final whistle, even through the dying seconds with a 9 point lead. France's repeated line breaks particularly at the beginning of the second half when they began to pay dividends were truly gut-wrenching occasions but again and Ireland's defence tracked back and the vast majority of France's opportunities came to nothing.

Quite simply it was an excellent match, both teams were playing at their absolute utmost level and created an amazing spectacle even from a neutral perspective. All over the park there were outstanding performances and for once this actually paid off. So very often as an Irish fan (and this extends beyond rugby) you see excellent performances that end in narrow defeats. That an Irish athlete will be riding high and in excellent form only for them to be chopped down just as the whole country is paying attention and they crack under the pressure of that collective expectancy.

The Irish Factor

That is perhaps the Irish-Factor. That millisecond of doubt that creeps in... Those few crumbs of the remants of Irish catholic guilt that make us instinctually demand just for perhaps a fleeting moment "Do I deserve this?"... The fossil in the tar-pit of our national psychey that prompts us that perhaps not winning is the natural order of things... That all pervasive sense of subconscious inferiority born coming from a backward little, disorganised island on the edge of civilisation.

Our hope is that maybe an individual, or a group, can someday escape this and that maybe this will pull some of us along with it. It won't be our politicians, and it won't be our business leaders... you know, the ones who perhaps should be giving leadership to our nation... and asking a group of athletes to help the country grow up might be a above there station but it might just get the ball rolling. Nothing breeds success like success afterall.

Perspective

Now as the dust begins to settle, all the talk is of calming down and that this is just the first match - BOD tells us to chill. Kidney as is his want as a great manager and truly classy individual while heaping praise on his players and deflecting it from himself is being sure to instill the virtues of taking each game as it comes (More reaction here).

So while everyone is saying this is just another game, the paradox is that that at once is true and untrue and that only a reflection on the tournament as a whole will prove this. For the players that are playing these games (as any athlete will know) there is only one game to focus on - the next one. For those following this team and has seen them take shape over the best part of a decade and is willing them to succeed on our behalf with every fibre of their body this is just another game... but if we are to look back at this in a few months and this was the start of the road to glory, then I'll never forget this springtime in Paris.





*While the term had existed since 1883 a trophy was only presented for it by Bank of Scotland in 2006. Ireland had won the Triple Crown and Bank of Scotland had just entered the Irish market - mmm, I smell synergy.

How Slow Am I?

I'm going to be in France for the Rugby World Cup... which until today I didn't realise was taking place in France!

I'll be charging €1000 per square foot of floorspace in my apartment. I don't even need to get a job now!

The Longest Weekend Part 4: Sunday At Le Stade

Sunday awoke a bright but chilly December morning. When we awoke Sunday morning was long but the chill had remained. Furthermore, it was nearly time for the Stade Francais Vs. Sale Sharks Heineken Cup match at Parc de Prince. The other two had bought tickets several weeks earlier and I intended to try and get one at the gate.

We were packed like sardines on the long metro journey back to Porte De St. Cloud as the crowds swelled because of match day. As if by magic, I found a man selling unwanted tickets at face value right next to the gates and gladly parted with a poultry €10 for unreserved seating. I was in a segment on my own for the match, in my thin fleece, but it was a great atmosphere and quite an exciting match.

When given the choice between supporting Le Stade de France or PSG over the coming year, I think I'll side with the prawn-sandwich brigade rather than the anti-semmatic murderous facist hooligan brigade. This decision ways heavily against the chip on my shoulder developed through a hatred of South Dublin rugby playing schools but I feel that this situation is sufficiently detachted so as to reduce much of the inner turmoil which would otherwise exist.

...

We stopped for a few bites of sushi as an entree to our main meal of steak au poivre in the Old Navy. Two Parisien guitarists and €5 bottled water (after the last place's warm tap water) accompanied our meal. It was all very pleasent.

It was unilaterally decided that we needed to take it easy that night. So myself, Keith, David and Phil went bowling with a few beers just to ween ourselves off rather than going cold turkey. The bowling alley was in a basement off Moufftard and was excellent value compared to the Leisureplex(i?) back home.

This was the first time since Thursday that I'd got to bed before 1, just barely.