Oh Happy Day and Other Stories

Well, isn’t this nice?

England are out of the Rugby World Cup, having been whipped at The Home of Rugby™ by a free-flowing Australia side.

Having tipped our Former Colonial Bastards Masters to go all the way to the final and lose to my All Blacks, I was expecting their vaunted defensive discipline to close down Australia’s backs. Uhm, nah.

Bernard Foley, of all fucking people, ran rings around them all night. That should be food for thought for one of my mates with whom I watch a lot of rugby … he hates uBen with a passion! Well, until last night. Anyway.

Here’s an interesting anecdote; my mate Eddie and I were both backing England to prevail over the Aussies, but when Beale came on as an injury sub he said “Oh Beale was on the bench” and I said “Yeah, now they might actually win” and win they did.

Forward passes notwithstanding.

The way England have been playing over the past few years, and their recent pedigree at the U20 World Trophy (three finals, two wins) I actually saw them as the only worthy challengers to my New Zealand.

But that’s how a World Cup goes, eh? Just ask the “Japan and USA are tourists” Springboks. Japan even beat Samoa yesterday, dammit. There IS no form book anymore.

Anyway, so I’m glad England have crumbled at home, now I just need somebody to take care of France and I’m golden. I just hope this doesn’t make Springbok fans mistake themselves for actual contenders – the world hasn’t gone COMPLETELY batshit crazy.

Like I’ve told my friends; New Zealand at this World Cup are like a Tipperary prostitute – we’ll take all comers!

As for cricket, I wore my old Zimbabwe cricket supporter’s shirt (made by Faithwear, remember them?), with faded writing, just to remind these youngsters that we’ve come a long way with this team they’re fucking around with.

I thought my faith had been repaid when we batted Pakistan off the park and bowled them into a panic. And then we failed to kill them off, dropping three catches with six wickets down!

Failing to kill off a cricket match with a hall-of-famer like Shoaib Malik at the crease is criminal, and we’re lucky the calculators worked in our favour, giving us a paper victory.

But it should NOT have gotten that far; I see our mental block still exists, the same mental block afflicting us in ALL sports, and in all aspects of our lives.

I believe that we as a nation have gotten so used to losing that deep down we have a fear of winning, and don’t think we deserve it.

Until we start strutting around and saying “No, fuck this, I DO deserve victory and happiness and cash and pussy and freedom” I don’t think we will ever have it.

Let’s just call it “testicular fortitude” for now. Let’s all show our collective balls! Yes you too, ladies.

Also, I am not drinking this month (theoretically) and will make it through November if I can. That clarity of vision and thought is disastrous when the pub goes into full-on disco mode!

It’s not fun observing the mating habits of the drunken monkey, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But I’m stuck, being Rugby World Cup month, because what’s a world cup match without atmosphere and banter?

Finally, if Liverpool lose today, Brendan Rodgers will be fired.

Go Everton.