Lightning and Rugby

[smokingboot]

The storm to end all storms; rain mingled with snow, but the snow settled on cars and roads, while the rain just kept whirling in sheets beneath the lightning. Thunder chased one kitten into hiding, while the other sat on the windowsill enjoying the show. It was the end of the world. It lasted about 7 minutes.

Another apocalypse today, but this took 73 minutes longer. The rest of this post is about rugby so out of respect for those sane individuals who couldn't care less, I'll use the cut.



Well, what do we do now?

It's not just that the Beeb's sports coverage is increasingly dubious ('And today the French are playing rugby like a man's game, just the way they like it...' As opposed to what? That infamous year when their team consisted of reluctant conscripts from the Convent of Seething Madelines, garbed in stockings, boaters and mini-skirts? Aunty dear, do be quiet) our team just isn't very good. Charlie Hodgeson can kick penalties, I've seen him do it. So why is he suddenly so rubbish? What's happened to him? And what is the point of these occasional flashes of brilliance from Lewsey or Corry or any of them if they can't kick a ball when it counts? Someone said that a team has to fail together a few times before they can truly gel and win. If that's true, let's book our tickets for France 2007 now, because we've got to be hot favourites.

We watched England A side vs France A side on Friday night. They were in Bath, in the mud, the dark, and the teeming rain, and it was an infinitely better match, full of passion and readiness to take chances, a real hunger to win.

*Sigh* Something just isn't working. I really don't know enough to make a judgement, but I suspect Andy Robinson should go.