The game they play in heaven...
There are times when I wish I was back in Oz. Not that I would complain (that would mean I was going native). But the opportunity to see the Wallabies play Wales at the Millennium stadium is one of those affirming times that make me glad I made the trek.
Maria happened to be spending the week at a course in Bradford upon Avon, which isn't terribly far from Bristol. We had thought about going to see the game between the Wallabies and Les Bleus in Paris, but we couldn't get Maria back to Bradford upon Avon in time. Thus we decided upon Cardiff and the clash between our men in gold, and the reining 6 Nations gland slam champions in Red.
I made the ultimate sacrifice, taking the day off work on Friday to catch the train from Hull to Bristol via Leeds. I looked the true Yorkshire-man, with my packed lunch and my thermos. Truth be known, my culinary preparedness had less to do with the tightness of my jeans (I just can't seem to get my wallet out) and more to do with the quality of the food and coffee on British trains. It was nevertheless a long 5 1/2 hour journey, made even longer by the group of 2 dozen 6th formers (year 11 and 12) which (and I mean which, not whom) got on at Manchester.
I can't really relate the relative merits of the Midlands scenery, as the whole of the country was blanketed in a thick fog which didn't abate throughout the day. I was happy to arrive at Bristol Parkway and happy also to be guided by Maria's suggestion of a movie and dinner. Maria had no voice, having been visited by the dreaded lurgy, and rather than enjoy my cultivated wit (or at least the half I had chosen to bring with me) she felt she would rather immerse herself in the gritty realism of a Ridley Scott film. Maria enjoyed the film and I enjoyed a hot dog. Enough said.
After the film we trundled into a British version of an American version of an Italian restaurant. The fact that the vegetarian half of our pizza was better than the meat feast half (no reaction from the staff) sums up what a strange experience that was. The bruschetta was good though.
We stayed at a services hotel that night and the next morning headed into Cardiff early. We had to pick our tickets up from the ground between 9 and 12, and the game didn't start until 2:30. We parked at a park and ride (with the attendants attempting to direct us back out of the car park), and hopped on a bus into the centre of Cardiff. Unlike most rugby grounds, Millennium Stadium is pretty much right in the centre of Cardiff. Once you have been to a game there this starts to make sense. Rugby is really at the centre of what it is to be Welsh. Where other cities may have parliament buildings or great financial houses at their heart, Welshman know what is really important in life, and they have stuck rugby right near the middle of their capital city. I like that.
It was really very cold in Cardiff, so we decided to stock up on some merchandise. We had no decent head wear, and Maria's scarf looked awfully flimsy, and we suspected that people might be in two minds as to who we were supporting, so we decided to get an Aussie flag as well. I think the effect was sufficiently supportive, and yet subtle.
We still had some time to wait for the game, and we hadn't had any breakfast yet, so we headed into a typical Welsh free house called the "Walkabout". I have never seen so many blonde Australian girls in such short skirts serving so much lager. It was one of those cold shower moments. You guys know what I'm talking about.
After a pint and some food we pottered around Cardiff for a while (yes alright, Maria took me into a department store so she could try on a dress. I'm not proud). We bought some hot pastry product, as is traditional on a day of rugby, I managed to find a mobile Guiness bar (the Welsh really know how to put on a party) and then we headed in to find our seats. I went and grabbed a couple of pints of brains to get me through the game. The Welsh team are actually sponsored by a beer company called Brains. The bitter is quite drinkable, although it was so cold in the stadium that my second pint was almost undrinkably cold by the time I got to it. Maybe I am going native...
Some rugby innovations are good. Like mobile Guiness bars. Sometimes it is tradition that makes rugby what it is, and Wales has tradition in spades as well. For instance, the first Welshman to leave the tunnel before the game is... a goat! With the Goat Major of course. The goat (Taffy) is mascot of the Royal Regiment of Wales. The Goat Major is a corporal. No, I don't really understand either. You can't fault the Welsh sense of the theatrical though.
Bit different from the ol' Ballymore, no?
The anthems before the game were great. We gave Advance Australia Fair our mightiest voice, but it was overwhelmed by the other 74,000 people at the ground subsequently singing Land of My Fathers. That is a sound I shall never forget.
The game was very intense, with the Australian captain knocked silly after only 2 minutes and having to leave the field. I think that some refereeing decisions could have been better, and losing Mortlock at the start didn't help, but overall the game was there to be won by the Wallabies and they kept kicking possession away.
I guess that the two most memorable reactions from the game were these: Firstly, when the Australian flyhalf kicked a field goal. and there was a shocked silence from the Aussie crowd. Then one guy about 3 rows behind us yelled 'what are you doing! We're Australians! We don't kick field goals! We're not bloody English you know! Who do you think your are, Johnny bloody Wilkinson!'. Australians have to be the only spectators in the world to disapprove of scoring points if its not done with the ball in hand.
The other reaction was after the game, as I was having a chat with a Welshman over a warm urinal. He consoled me with the wisdom that 'as long as its a good game of rugby, it doesn't matter who the winner is at the end. Unless you are playing the English of course. That's a different matter.' So we do have something in common with the Welsh after all. And it was a good game at that.
I can't describe the emotional ebb and flow of a game of international rugby shared with 75,000 of the most ardent rugby fans in the world. You'll just have to try it for yourself. Careful though - it could be addictive. We are already planning how to see rugby at Murrayfield, Twickenham, Lansdowne Road (when it reopens in 2010) and the Stade de France.
