Rugby…bloody hell!
As I strode into work on Monday morning, desperately trying to make eye contact with every English person I passed, I was filled with the sort of zen-like calm many followers of Buddha will spend their whole lives striving to capture. Ultimately, it seems you don’t need to head to the forest, sit with your legs crossed, eyes closed and empty your head of all thoughts (easier for some than others) to find enlightenment. Far from it, you just need to watch your 23 of your fellow countrymen defeat England… at Twickenham… IN THEIR OWN WORLD CUP!
The events that followed the final whistle are a little hazy. My English brother-in-law made a swift departure from our house in Bristol (understandable), announcing his intention to get so drunk that he wouldn’t remember any of what he’d just witnessed (again, understandable), a fellow Welshman sat on the sofa with a smile so smug that his wife, sat next to him in her England shirt, must surely have been contemplating initiating divorce proceedings and a Scottish friend proudly rose from his seat before clenching his fists and unleashing the kind of language that only the Scottish are capable of!
Having just returned from the spare room where I had watched the last 10 minutes of a game that will go down in Welsh rugby folklore, I suddenly found myself stood on the road outside, attempting to pop the cork on the worlds smallest bottle of champagne. It was a failed attempt and soon after my wife came outside to explain that I was not Lewis Hamilton, I was in fact a fool and needed to get back inside before the neighbours got together to form some sort of anti-Celt mob.
The rest of the evening passed in a haze of wonder, those of us who remained sat slumped in the living room, drinking (of course) and genuinely struggling to take in what had been achieved by the Welsh team. It was the kind of display that can make bonds that were already close even tighter; certainly, once you’ve come through a game where you were on the back foot for the vast majority and played the last quarter with several players playing out of position it would be easy to believe you’re unbeatable.
Wales, of course, are not unbeatable. Indeed, it is not unthinkable, given the current injury crisis and their past struggles against the Pacific Islanders, that they could lose to the Flying Fijians on Thursday. Such are Wales’ options out wide at the moment, I will be heading to the gym a few times this week to ensure that, should there be any further injuries, I will be at peak fitness just in time to line up at full back at Twickenham against the Aussies!
However, you get the impression from listening to the Welsh squad and management that they are approaching this weeks clash just as they prepared for England. The temptation for any normal group of mere mortals would be to accept the plaudits that are rightfully coming their way and take their foot of the gas. Had I been part of a Wales side that had just won at Twickenham you would have found me on Wednesday night in many of Cardiff’s bars and clubs, wearing a Wales tracksuit and accepting the many drinks and marriage proposals that would be forthcoming. Luckily, I’m nowhere near the squad!
Their levels of professionalism cannot be questioned. The fact that they arrived back in the green, green grass of home in the early hours of Sunday morning and plunged themselves straight into the cryotherapy chambers speaks volumes. Bodies must be battered, minds exhausted and yet they know that the job is nowhere near done and that, at this level, preparation is everything. As a nation, we should be extremely proud of them.
On Sunday morning, having returned from church, Wales’ defence coach described Thursday’s match as a must-win encounter. Mr Edwards is right, of course. A bonus-point win would put Wales in a commanding position and would ramp up the pressure on an English squad that is taking a huge amount of criticism for it’s failure to deliver under pressure last weekend.
You can’t help but think that what that group of players needs right now is the support of their nation, both fans and press alike. Listening to former players, coaches and pundits lay into them this week has almost made me feel sorry for Robshaw’s troops. What happened to ‘Carrying Them Home’?!
However, the thought of Mike Brown having to do more interviews after Australia have knocked them out is just too entertaining so I will of course be getting behind the men in Gold. Surely there would be no better foot-note to England’s tournament than the angriest man alive spontaneously combusting through sheer rage?!
For Wales, there is a job to be done yet again. Wales v Fiji at the Rugby World Cup, a sporting event that never fails to entertain! It won’t be easy, they’ll need to be switched on and willing to go through the pain barrier. Despite all of that, I have no doubt that they’ll come through their latest test and, from there, anything is possible.
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