It is only a game

The wound is still raw. It has taken me a few days to come to terms with the devastating defeat England suffered against Australia last Saturday night in the rugby world cup. As I type the words ‘England are out of the world cup’ I feel the pain of a nation that only last week was filled with so much hope and expectation.
At last I had a Saturday night in the UK and one that coincided with England’s third match of the tournament. I must admit my nerves were increasing during the build up but I had never once let my mind contemplate the consequence of a loss. Thankfully this time I was in the comfort of an English friend’s home rather than a Georgian bar with a Frenchman or a wedding in Greece with a Welsh girl, as per the previous weeks. This provided little consolation and or escape. I awoke the next day hoping it had all been a bad dream but was greeted by a downbeat morning news followed by damming newspaper headlines.
Admittedly this is sport and it is “only a game” as I was so often told after a poor performance. That will bring no comfort to our players or the majority of England supporters. It is the statistic of being the first host team to fail to make it beyond the group stages that will continue to haunt us and there is still one month of the tournament left to play.
The only proactive solution must be to pick a new team to support in the hope they can offer a more satisfying result; that said I am personally struggling to switch my allegiances just yet. We do still have one remaining game so we should help “carry them home” - right to the bitter end.

Bride v groom

I did not learn from my mistake, my diary was not planned any more efficiently this week. After watching England's opening game from an empty Georgian bar this time I was hoping to enjoy the atmosphere of a home crowd in a local pub. Instead I found myself in Greece, a country with no affinity for the egg shaped ball.

I stupidly had only thirty hours in the UK after traveling home from Eastern Europe, within which I was required to spend over ten of those driving. I flew into Heathrow, made a beeline to West Cornwall for a few hours of work, then drove through the night back to Gatwick for a 5am flight. The disruption to any sleep pattern, the hours wasted sat in a car and the loss a nights sleep was certainly made worth it as it did mean I was able to drop in and meet my one day old baby nephew.

I am not requesting any sympathy as I am fully aware my travel plans were self inflicted, on top of that my trip to Greece was purely for pleasure; I had been invited to a close friend's wedding. The ceremony was planned for the Saturday, you can guess where this is going, there was a big diary clash but this time not due to my planning. The bride and groom, who are both avid rugby supporters, chose the weeding date long before the group stages of the World Cup were drawn, it was far too late to change anything. The biggest coincidence became apparent as the matches were announced, the bride is welsh and the groom English. It made for any extremely nail biting eighty minutes. My consolation for England loosing had to be the look on my friends face as she declared it to be truly the best day of her life.