Well it’s happened – we finally lost a match. Apparently all this winning that Ireland have been doing since my foray into rugby union isn’t actually the norm, and we can actually lose pathetically once in a while. Saturday was just sad, just…sad. France looked awesome and Ireland looked like the bullied kids from school – you know the ones that were always ‘it’ in the game of Piggy in the Middle – endlessly chasing the ball and the bigger kids round in circles, praying for the bell to ring.
There was a bit of hope in that first fifteen minutes or so, and I thought I might enjoy my first Six Nations drinking game with this match, but then all the knock-ons started and we wisely gave up in favour of not being completely trashed by half time.
Of course, winning or losing isn’t really the point (I’ve decided to give up any pretence that I could care about Ireland and our back to back Grand Slam hopes) it’s all about the Big Gay Beards for me now, well I say now, I mean always. Those guys are my life. God I need to get out more.
Anyway, those pesky French and Irish were not good to the BGB this week – no tries for my French dudes and one of them even got substituted – I’m not sure what the French were thinking there to be honest, he wasn’t even limping that badly, and it cost me a precious point.
And as for the Ireland Three, well: ground control to Tommy Bowe, come in Tommy Bowe and score me a try, or at least an assist, or at least hold the ball once in a while. Thankfully BOD was on hand with an assist so all was not lost in Paris, but it was a close run thing, and Jamie Heaslip had better watch himself if he doesn’t want dropping. That’s all I’m saying.
Luckily for the BGB I set aside my love for ‘he of the supreme neck’ a few weeks ago – I could only afford one head versus gut situation, and frankly that is a freakishly huge neck, so Robnoxious didn’t make the cut. Now while it’s very sad that he’s all hurt and not able to play again this Six Nations, I don’t like this randomly overheard on the internet chat of putting Tommy in at full-back. I’m not quite sure what a full-back does apart from kicking up and unders, but I have a feeling it doesn’t involve many tries and I like tries, they’re what makes my team better than Woods’s.
Although I do have Lee Byrne, and he did score a try at the weekend, and he’s a full-back, so maybe this Tommy situation will sort itself out.
Wales and Scotland were very generous to me it has to be said, two tries and a couple of assists and I was singing the praises of, eh John Barclay. If ever there was a moment of genuine delight it was hearing that John Barclay had scored a try. (I was in Tesco stocking up on cheese puffs and biscuits for the Observer-ites when the text came in – I think people were staring when did another of those reverse air grab motions while holding a packet of chocolate fingers. I didn’t buy chocolate fingers, I got some Tesco shortbread coconut chocolate chip cookie type things instead – they’re Jedly with tea, yum) Anyway, token Scot FTW.
I had been toying with the idea of swapping him for Beattie last Friday, but then I read his blog on the BBC website and decided he was a decent sort, so he kept his spot. I’ll never doubt you again John Barclay…or is it James?
Regardless, Scotland woz robbed. I felt a bit sad for them afterwards, they really didn’t deserve to lose. Not too sad obviously ‘cos Lee Byrne dived over in the corner and grabbed me another five points. There’s no room for sentimentality in rugby, I’ve got a fantasy league to win after all. Of course this does sort of clash with my previous conviction that Lee Byrne is a cheater, a big Welsh Ospreys cheater, but Tigers are like the biggest cheats around and hello? five more points, so screw the Heineken Cup.
So Saturday was looking alright in fantasy terms, things could have been better, but I still had five more players the next day and Woods had had a shocker. I slept well knowing that England were only playing Italy, and I finally had a fly-half on the team who was, you know, playing.
Karma really is the bitchiest of bitches.
I relent, I pick Jonny, I don’t even feel all that guilty because this is business and the business is winning, so having players who play is just one of those fundamentals you have to put up with. So no, no guilt. But I did still secretly hope Jonny would get injured and have to come off. Like I said, I’m not really cut out for this management stuff.
Well Jonny did get injured, I watched as he missed three out of five kicks (and I’m pretty sure I could have made one of them) then with twenty minutes to go, I watched him hobble around the pitch. Surely, I thought, SURELY he’s off. Cauliflower ears had already emptied the bench of everyone else, Toby the Tiger was sitting all alone like the kid picked last for rounders, and worse, wearing an iluminous yellow bib. And there he remained. Saint Jonny fired over a drop goal and England just about beat Italy, and no one cared about poor Toby. He could still be sitting there for all we know.
But where was I? Oh yes, karma. What did I ever do to deserve Jonny Wilkinson missing fifty per cent of his kicks at goal? Sure I thought mean things about him, sure I wished pestilence on him, but that was last week before I picked him for the BGB. He couldn’t possibly know, it’s not like he’s reading this and devising plans to thwart my fantasy hopes – and if he is, well drop his ass and do it now before the transfer deadline closes again. I ended this week four points behind the leader of our little league – four points! If Jonny had been his normal immaculate self, I’d be only one point off first, not rotting away in second with a mountain to climb.
Of course I could also blame the BGB posterboy for getting himself sinbinned, but I wont, he’s too big and hairy for any bad things
to be said about him. Although, what’s with his socks?
All in all Italy versus England was a frustrating affair with only Mathew one t Tait providing any source of light. I’m extremely glad I was too tight with my transfers to use one on Riki no c Flutey, and kept the one with the beautiful hair instead. He’s way better, although I think Man Mountain of France will probably use him as a human shield in Paris. Meh as long as one of them scores, I don’t mind.