No-one expected that now did they? The stuttering, spluttering French dump the Welsh out and then a comfortable All Black demonstration. Detailed reports follow:
Saturday night. 4 hours in the pub, banter flowing freely. More South Africans than anyone else. Mainly supporting the Welsh, the French are friendless.... nearly. Just me, a few others and the barmaid backing Les Bleus. Entry to and exit from Eden Park is a demonstration in efficiency. The portaloo queues are, not to put too fine a point on it, massive. Still, after the necessary evil of this queue, and a stop to purchase fish and chips, I take my seat in time for two rousing anthems. Passion pored from every one of the 44 players on show. A rip-roaring start and the game was off at break-neck speed. French flair doesn't exist under Lievremont, French blood and guts did early on. Wales took a lead though, but then the game was turned on its head (pun intended). People who have a much better understanding of the laws than I do have pontificated and discussed the red card given to Sam Warburton by Alain Rolland and can't come to agreement. For me though. The fault was made by Warburton. He lifted and let go in the air. Dangerous in the extreme. Letter of the law says Red Card, Rolland produced it. Unseen by many of the crowd who were baying for a penalty and some sort of action. No-one knew until Sent Off flashed on the scoreboard. To those baying for Rolland's head, I say grow up. He carried out the laws of the game. It is hard to accept when decisions like this "ruin a big game" but a referee needs to be prepared to produce a red card, be it in the 79th minute of a 3rd XV game or the first minute of a World Cup Final, I say well done Rolland.
Jones had already limped off for Wales, and it would be a struggle from here in, but how they battled. Never say die, change of tactics, kick and chase now, with the French seemingly confused. Lievremont and his tactics resembling l'Inspecteur Clouseau more each day. Still, the French led 9-3 before Phillips scored a try, Jones hit the post with the conversion and Halfpenny came up short with a penalty from halfway. 28 phases as time ticked past the 80th minute, but Wales had run out of juice... the fabled cryotherapy treatment had seen 14 men push 15 as close as they ever could, but France held on. Shane Williams, a man I have difficulties with, was magnificently deprecating in his after match comments. Others, fans who had arrogantly taunted me before the game for daring to support the French, were less so. "Cheat", "Disgrace", "Frenchman" were all comments thrown at the referee. Were the game about poor losing, we'd have gold medal fans around. 2 of them attacked each other in a bar as emotions ran high. Friends separated them and they went on their merry way. One last dig at me though "You're a disgrace supporting the French against fellow Brits" says Taffy. "Am I? Who were you supporting last weekend between England and France?" I rejoinder. "That's different." Comes the reply as he turns and walks off. Intelligent debating at its best.
Sunday morning dawned hangover-strewn after several beers after the game to top up the shedload before. Sunday morning went back under the duvet covers and turned into Sunday afternoon. Coffee and a muffin for breakfast, then game head on and down to the Waterfront for a stroll. Many many people around. Varying entertainers on the closed off streets on a glorious sunny day. Party atmosphere with a touch of nerves. An enjoyable stroll round, a cheeky hot dog from a charity stall, then another cheeky hot dog from the same charity stall (never let it be said I don't do a lot of good work for charity). Then gentle meander up to Eden Park. The 3 mile walk up hills and through good and bad quarters of Auckland alike is a fun trek. The New Bond Street bar awaits at the end, and having followed Eddie Butler, the ex-Welsh captain, up the street the day before, yesterday I was nearly knocked down by a car containing Bernard Lapasset. Nearly, but not quite.
4 o'clock meet in the bar, where a mixed crowd of Aussies and All Blacks enjoyed friendly banter. A long session before the game, a long climb to the top of the stand, good seats behind the posts and the sides came out. 2 more passionate anthems and the new version of the Haka, which doesn't quite do it for me and the game was off. That would be the only time Australia were in it. Clinical New Zealand scored an early try, through Nonu but with a stunning assist from Dagg, who is outstanding in everything he does. A Weepu penalty took them further clear, and had he had his kicking boots, the game would have got messy for the Aussies, who only had a penalty from O'Connor and a drop goal from the awful Quade Cooper come the end of the game. Weepu penalties and a Cruden drop goal saw the lead stretched to 17-6 in the second half, and Weepu returned to replaced a bloodied scrum half and to slot 3 more points to kill off Australian hopes. Sonny Bill Williams had time to run on, clobber Cooper and go off with a yellow card, and that was that. 4 more years taunted the All Blacks in response to George Gregan's infinite taunt of 2003. 4 more beers I joined in, as we scrambled back to base camp, where we stayed until 1am.
France vs New Zealand then, as in 1987. Wales vs Australia for the bronze medals, as in 1987. They say history doesn't repeat itself. Put your money on a 20 point New Zealand win and a Welsh victory in the third place, to continue that incredible symmetry.
Last week in New Zealand starts tomorrow for me. Looking to go black water rafting if all goes well. Then back here for Finals weekend. I'll obviously be greeting my French friends as they decide to come over for the final - there's room on my floor boys!
I promised an article on Northern Hemisphere rugby in my last post, but that will have to wait. People to see, places to go, etc, etc, etc
Enjoy the week everyone. A Friday morning bronze medal match and a Sunday morning final for you, 2 big hangovers in store for me...
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