I TRY TO discipline myself to keeping these blog posts to around 1000 words a pop; one regular reader, his brain cell raddled by over 50 years of regular attendance at Somerset Park, repeatedly chastises me if I go over that barrier. Thus, I kept my review of Argentina v England on Saturday night, back until this post.
What, other than a typically-grudging: “well done England” can I say about a result nobody outside the England camp saw coming. The visitors rode their luck in the first half, as, while the visitors played typically English Rugby Union, kicking the ball up in the air and chasing it, Los Pumas outdid even Scotland at their best in finding novel ways to not score when totally in command.
As a result, courtesy of a trade mark George Ford drop goal, at a time when they were down to 13 men, England got to the break leading 3-0. They then produced a most un-English spell of running Rugby in the ten minutes after half time, to score three tries and put the game to bed, before defending heroically as their hosts threw everything at them.
Steve Borthwick must be pinching himself this morning. All those big names away on Lions duty, those superstars playing in France he cannot select, in some cases, down to third choices, and they beat – at home – a team ranked above them, who had recently beaten the Lions. It's a different Football code, but, the wise words of the late Jimmy Greaves come to mind: it is a funny old game.
Neither side was at optimum strength, but, just maybe, there is a greater depth in English Rugby than we sometimes think there is, and perhaps their clubs should be encouraged to believe in stout English yeomanry rather than foreign imports.
Fortunately for we inferior colonial Celts, “the Prem” club owners, addicted as they are to their game of pissing their fortunes highest up the nearest wall, look likely to continue to ensure, the days when England really plays up to their potential, such as on Saturday night, will continue to be few and far between.
THE VARIOUS Football Associations have lang syne, learned how to run the international game around World Rankings. Some do it better than others, but, generally, “the blazers” are aware of the need to protect World Rankings by careful choice of opponents when that can be managed. Rugby Union is still adapting to this requirement.
So, kudos to the decision-makers in Dublin, for how they have managed these Summer Tests, taking-on Georgia and Portugal. You might expect a Top Five nation such as the Irish (ranked 3) should be able to release 16 men to Lions duty and still have enough fire-power to deal with matches against the nations ranked 11th and 18th. That's still a bit of a risk, given the Irish had to travel to Tbilisi to take-on the Georgians. However, they rose to the challenge, winning 34-5 in a match not streamed in the UK.
No Such Luck for the hapless Welsh, who wilted in the heat, to lose 19-24 to Japan, their 18th straight International defeat, a run which even exceeds Scotland's dire 17-game losing streak of the early 1950s.
Wales led 19-7 at half time in Kobe, but, they suffered in the second half conditions and 17 unanswered points had home Coach Eddie Jones smiling. This defeat might see Japan overtake Wales into 12th spot in the World Rankings, when they are announced on Monday. I only say “might” since I am unsure as to how the rankings work and Grand-daughter – the clever clogs with the MSc in statistics refuses to do the math for me.
I didn't watch the Wales game on BBCiplayer, it seems a bit morbid to intrude on personal grief of the extent currently being endured by Rugby's Taffia.
Finally – I am assuming the Scottish party down there in Australasia was watching Australia beat Fiji in Newcastle NSW on Sunday. It took a late converted try to get the Wallabies home, so, clearly, on home soil back in Suva, next weekend, the Fijians will be a mighty foe to the touring Scots.
SATURDAY'S MAMMOTH bout of Television-watching was a hard shift for my elderly mind and body; with the Scotland game kicking-off at 4.30am and the England one not finishing until after 10pm. But, I survived, only to realise, I have to repeat it next Saturday.
The 4am start had me reminiscing. Back in the 1980s, the 1983 Lions Tour, I think, somebody at Cumnock Rugby Club had the bright idea of organising a breakfast in the club, while we watch one of the Tests, which had a very-early kick-off.
Somebody had to go down, open the club and start cooking the breakfast and my old class and team-mate Kenny Roxburgh, a weel-kent referee, who we sadly laid to rest last month, drew the short straw.
So, the bold Kenneth, resplendent in Paisley Pattern dressing gown, over his pyjamas, and sporting a raffish cravat and slippers, duly turned his car into the club car park at around 4am, only to be followed in by a passing Police car.
The Polis were a bit put-off to see the elegantly-attired Kenny alighting and opening the club. On being appraised of what was going on, and as another club member arrived, the Polis shook their heads and told Kenny: “You Rugby Club guys are aff yer fuckin' heids.”
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