♫ We sent them homeward … ♫
Sorry for the lack of weekend posting … but Saturday’s rugby score explains it all: Scotland 15, England 9. It was necessary to watch and celebrate (and then celebrate some more and then do penance for the celebration).
This year’s Six Nations had been crap … lopsided losses by 21, 15 and 21 to Paddy, Taffy and Evil. And we had to struggle to beat Italy in nasty conditions at a neutral site last year at the World Cup, so in sunny Rome next weekend … who knows. But … if you beat England and spoil the record day for
Proud Edward’s Army Jonny Wilkinson … and get the Calcutta Cup from Princess Anne — nothing else matters too much.
There is no question that technically it was not the prettiest game and played in awful Scottish weather — no tries at all, and Scotland never even came close. But our defending was brilliant (theirs wasn’t bad, to be honest) and the reason that there were few try chances was that our line kept discipline and didn’t break. OTOH, they made penalty-costing defensive mistakes that we didn’t. The English media have been saying that their team couldn’t have played worse, which is true, but that assumes that the World Cup finalists suddenly turn into a bunch of schoolboys (a frequent analogy) for reasons having nothing to do with the other team on the pitch. Saturday’s effort was exactly the kind of grind-it-out, kick-it-away, ruck-heavy game of denial we needed to have to beat England.
Anyway … the 6 Nations was not a waste. And this weekend, all props to my Singapore-exiled bud Dan and the rest of the Welsh as they go for the Grand Slam, against the Perfidious French in Cardiff. It wasn’t our year, but at least they’ll have tae think again.
(That was old, but it always brings shivers and tears … though it was the occasion and outcome as much as the performance per se)