As a Christmas present I received a 4 pack of ciders, each a different brand and of varying intensity ranging, from the dry to the very sweet. Oddly Magners wasn’t amongst them but that didn’t prevent me from sampling the full range of it. The sweet taste of victory over Munster swiftly segued into the aridness of the performance against Edinburgh. The highs and lows, the sweet to the sour, are the preserve of Ulster’s season. Indeed the Edinburgh result was not entirely a shock. It would be fair to say though that there is now a fighting spirit in the team which has seen them salvage a bp from a lost cause. A missing ingredient from performances of previous seasons.
This weekend I get to sample the grandiose to the risible that is the Heineken. This earthy delight can taste very light as is the case with Ulster’s game on Saturday, with only the Hairy queens from London having a business interest in the tournament. That is not to say that Ulster won’t be entitled to having input to it, as they can influence the end result for both the Hairyqueens and Stade. Suffice to say nothing less than a committed performance will be demanded by the fans as signs that the Munster result wasn’t a little flash in a large empty pan.
Strange but true. I am leaning towards checking out the referee for games as a priority these days rather than the Ulster team list. Never mind, with all due respect to Robbie Diack and his absence from the teamsheet having an impact, it is the wee man in the middle who is dictating the course of many games. There is a saying. The referee should be in the game like the wind and the rain. Quite agree with that sentiment and sometimes it rings true when you have a Rollaind or a Chris White controlling the games. They can let the match flow and it is easy to forget the inevitable loud blast of the whistle.
Unfortunately the less big name referees are impacting on games in a manner that is making the game itself forgettable. Whether it’s through their attempts to impose their will on one side or the other as has been happening in some Ulster games I’ve seen or they come armed with a preconception about a team and whistle accordingly. I remarked recently to a friend that unless we (Ulster) have a top line referee such as Lewis, Owens or Rollaind we are likely to suffer from overzealous reffing and a tendency to be panicked into trying to avoid a penalty blitz. The result generally is a messy mixture of bizarre and legitimate decisions which generally reflect poorly on Ulster.
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF ED O’DONOHUE’S ‘COOKRY’ SOCK
Ed has been married to his right foot ‘cookry’ sock for well over 5 months now. They live somewhere in suburban Belfast. Here is a typical day in the life of the sock.
As Ed’s ‘cookry’ sock I’m pretty much attached to his right foot a lot of the time. My day starts……..well it really doesn’t finish to be honest because Ed being a pretty tall bloke finds his feet sticking out of the end of the bed. During the cold winter Belfast nights Ed has been desperately trying to acclimatise to the frosty mornings when he has to rise at 7.00a.m. to go training. Like his Fiji teammate, he keeps a window open during the night.
By 7 in the morning I’m generally foundered having been on the end of Ed’s leg most of the night and I’m glad when he gets up and goes downstairs on the carpet to make himself a nice warm cup of carefully filtered coffee and a breakfast of marmalade and toast.
Ed generally shoves on size 12 trainers and a tracksuit over the top of me after pulling up both his socks. The journey in the car takes about 20- 25 minutes up to Newforge, and he sometimes picks up his mate Clint on the way there. If it’s Monday they usually discuss the weekend’s game and whether the boss, (the Williams twins, Matt or Steve) will give them a rocket for some misdemeanour on the pitch. By Tuesday they discuss the squad and who’ll miss out. On Wednesday they discuss WAGS and by Thursday they ruminate on the forthcoming game. On Friday morning they generally know if they’re in the team and usually Ed is, so he’s been very bright and breezy on Friday mornings. Sometimes he has to cheer Clint up because he’s been injured a bit and has to compete with some fella called Bryn for the full back slot.
Ed’s feet get wet at training most of the time. If it’s not raining its frosty and at lunchtime I get hung out to dry over the radiator near the table where the boys eat. Today, at a nearby table, they were discussing how Trimby’s mini got into the gym. Ed was keeping his cards very close to his size 44 chest but I know what he and Clint discussed in the car on the way here this morning. I missed the gym session today and the video analysis due to being draped over the rad. Ed was a bit quiet on the way home. He had tea and then put his feet up whilst he watched all those soaps. After a bit of a browse on the internet it was time for bed and once again I found myself cold and miserable at the bottom of the bedclothes attached to Ed’s right foot.
Look out for more relevatory and revelationary nitbits from Ed’s ‘cookry’ sock.
ICE ROAD F*^KERS AND A DUDE CALLED DREW
Watching Drew in the Ice Road Truckers last week reminded me of life as a rugby squad player. You know the ones that attend all the training sessions and don’t get a game, throw the head up and still don’t get a game.
Well as the ice road season got underway and Northwind Industries began handing out jobs to the lads, one guy was left behind by it all. Not driving a heavy dudy truck on the ice road costs you money. You aint earning nothing standin’ still. Up in the frozen tundra amidst the iced up lakes there is not a lot to do when you aren’t driving a truck. Drew was getting a little itchy and made a decision. Approaching Northwinds transport co-ordinator and the guy who hands out all the smarties in the form of lucrative truck runs up to the mines across the frozen lakes, Drew told it to him as it was. At least from Drew’s perspective, he’d been hangin’ around a little too long.
Your quitting then, the smirking co-ordinator asked. OK, have a nice day he said mirthlessly from the safety of his 4 wheel drive. Later the co-ordinator declared to the camera that Drew was not the sort they wanted to drive for them, as he was just too impatient to get started!! After a, ‘honey I shrunk the pay packet phone’ call to his wife somewhere in Iowhere, Drew reflected that he’d maybe made a wrong move. A few days later Drew had found a new job driving a forklift for another company and finally he got to drive a largish van on the ice road. Word of Drew’s new employment soon spread amongst the trucking fraternity. For Drew this was the equivalent of going from piloting a Boeing to flying a Cessna.
“He’s driving a cube!” chortled Rick over the radio, a ‘big truck’ driver who’d shortly get his comeuppance. Up here in -37 degrees cold, sympathy for Drew was as short in supply as 18 degrees sunshine.
SHANES BAD BREAK
Sympathy was in short supply when Philip Browne texted the ‘mullet’ aka Shane Byrne that it was all over. I’ve still got the text message sobbed Shane the other day. He was apparently forced to take a lucrative career with Sarries in order to secure his big pay day pre retirement from professional rugby as the IRFU weren’t offering him any more big bucks. In fact he was being asked to take a pay cut. Philip Browne appeared to have all the diplomacy of Northwind’s transport co-ordinator and the warmth at IRFU HQ towards an old soldier wasn’t a million miles away from the Ice Road.
I seem to recall Andy Ward on Radio Ulster complaining he’d heard he’d been dropped from the Ireland team via public broadcasting. Andy naturally never played for Ireland again after venting his feelings on air and in public. The IRFU let you know when they want you and have ways and means of making you feel inadequate and unwanted. I imagine they’d publish your professional sporting death notice if you really wanted it that way.
UNREQUITED WORLD
The unrequited world of Gillian I can report is somewhat muted this week. However I can reveal that Cillian Willis, the object of Gillians unrequited affection, has listed as his most treasured possession – a guitar! (Not his mum mind!) In fact he’d take the guitar to a desert island with him.
Cillian’s taste in music is unclear. He could be one of those dewey eyed, Irish soul singers I used to see balladeering, in the back rooms of back street pubs, late on a Saturday night in Dublin city centre. Perhaps he could anonymously reveal to this blog what his tastes in music are to avoid being stereotyped as a dewey eyed, Irish soul singer.
RISING SON MIKE AND A CRUSADE
I am chuffed to reveal that Holywood Mike has publically declared he is known reader no. 4 on this blog. Mike will henceforth be known as Comrade KR No.4. That should appeal to his oblique sense of humour.
I can exclusively reveal to the readership, Mike’s all round good egg qualities. (Yes there is more than one, Uncle ho! ho!).
A grousebeater unwittingly donated his Ulster scarf to a graveyard at Thomond Park a number of weeks ago. The iconic neck wrap was rescued by HWM. If you look carefully today, into a far flung corner of the beer tent you will see a touching little ceremony as Mike returns the scarf to Mr. Fisher’s neck. The event will be witnessed by Mister Earl (me) and Dr. Royster.
The use of real names is very much respecting Mike’s latest crusade I can reveal.
In yet another SCOOP, (whatever happened to that lot?), for this blog. There will be less addressing folk as BP, MUM or TOK for HWM. He is finding out people’s real names to match their messageboard monikers. I’ll get the ball rolling so to speak. My name is earl, Mister Earl.
I understand that Mike, (real name Micheal Holywood,) could be become the first sponsored rugby fan with a new pair of trainers. He will be henceforth known as Holywood Nike!!
Well that’s enough for one day. Just time to wish the Ulster team the power and glory as they go into battle this afternoon.
As B.J. Botha might say, chat soon.
Corrections, comments or questions?