Sunday, 27 October 2019
Do South Africa deserve to win...
I don't know whether to laugh or cry...
Watching Wales versus South Africa this morning, I began to wonder whether the first two-thirds of the game was better than watching Dulux dry in the shed!
But then it took off! Chases, kicks, tackles, mauls (what are they - in my day they were 'loose scrums')!
But there again, although your compatriot Scrobs was an educated man from The Brecon Beacons, and well known for banter and beer, I was dreading a win for my adopted second-choice in the game.
If Wales had won, it would have been a barnstorm World Cup Final of England versus Wales, in a foreign country, away from home and real beer, and the triumphalist passion would have really mucked up my recognition of the whole contest. I mean, you just cannot have two of the greatest teams in the world playing against each other in a stadium as far away as Yokohama!
It's just not British!
What an awful man is Scrobs. My great business partner and I regularly toasted Wales with several tinctures, as we vowed to support them always, unless they were playing England. But this time, I just couldn't countenance a tussle with the old enemy, in a match as far away as Japan.
Sorry, but there it is.
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6 comments:
Sorry babe, I don't follow rugby. All I know is there's Rugby Union and Rugby League. They have "H"-shaped goalposts, use an oval ball, have scrums, half-scrums, tries, lots of rough and tumbles and body-sliding on the pitch and do Hakkas. If they get a try they get points then if they kick the ball over the posts they get more points, they get very muddy and have a bath together afterwards then go for a beer or several. I'm sure others more knowledgeable than I will add more info after they've stopped laughing.
That pretty well sums it up, Goosey, so never fear!
It is the game of Kings, and back in my day, when it was all amateur rugby union, the camaraderie was fantastic and lasting friendships were made all over the South East, because whenever we played, we had a concert pianist for the singing afterwards, so the score never really mattered after a chorus or two of 'Poor Little Angeline' and five pints!
When we eventually meet up, I'll show you how the scrum works!
... 'And his natural charm was as thick as your arm.'
Gosney.... a scrummage is a means of restarting play after an infringement with a minor. It involves up to eight men from each side, known as the pack or forward pack, binding together in three rows and interlocking with the free opposing men. At this point your balls are fed into the gap between the two forward men and they both compete for affection. You can be penalised for intentionally causing the scrummage to collapse, and for not putting your balls into the scrummage correctly. A scrummage is most commonly awarded when balls are knocked forward, or when your balls become trapped in a ruck or maul. Because of the physical nature of scrummages, injuries can occur, especially to your front row.
Mea culpa with much coupage as I am obviously not getting to grips with the rules of play. My struggle is partly to do with your first sentence because I can't picture how eight men from each side can form three rows so as to tackle the "free opposing men" because the maths don't add up and where did the free men come from? Mind you, O-level maths was the only test I've ever failed but I did get it the next time round. I used to play the piano and loved Grieg's Concerto in A minor but can't equate that with Ruggers unless someone puts it to music on YouTube.
Are the two forward men known as the "props" and if they're vying for affection they shouldn't have nary a gap between them nor should they have more than one ball to play with because it's not cricket, tennis, golf or water polo.
As for the scrummage bit, you're telling me that all these hefty lads can fall face-down in the mud just because someone whispered in their ears that their club washer-dryer has just gone tits-up and your wives are away for the next week on a hen party? No wonder their balls weren't in play as it were. As for Hakkas, I prefer Haikus because they only have three or five specially-selected words as opposed to the more testeroned individuals whose balls have been well-wanged by Matron's batting average along with the sound of leather on willow. Oh to be a fly on the wall.
All comments are insend - irrebhu - undescr - not recognised from here to maternity.
I am saddened beyond compare and a darkened room awaits a grieving Scrobs.
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