It goes without saying that this is Autumn and the truth of that is evident all around as the trees have turned from lush green to the autumnal riot of terracotta, yellow and red. The air assumes a cold and somewhat damp feel as a coda for the passing of summer. To walk in the autumn is to squelch in rain sodden lanes of leave carpeted mud.
For the rugby fraternity it heralds the Heineken Cup and the Autumn internationals. The traditional end of term tours for the Southern Hemisphere and a money making exercise for the Northern Unions. November though is also synonymous with remembrance of the Great War
Last week marked a landmark in Remembrance for the Great War as the last of the UK survivors slipped away from this life and a century passed since the end of this cataclysmic conflict.
It was not a great war in the sense that much was achieved but ‘Great’ in terms of loss of life in the cheapest of senses. It was a week when many bright young stars whose light went out prematurely, as noted on this sites ‘lest we forget’ article, were remembered.
Despite the repetitive nature of the grainy fast moving black and white film it still has the power to shock.I think I’m right in saying more people were killed in World War 2, yet sheer weight of numbers of those killed in days hours and minutes still overwhelms.
Contemporary eyes leads you to fight the clichés, with the Great War seen as a triumph for the common man who fought the good fight but for whom were let down by the cowards in the Chateaux’s behind the lines. The more one reads and hears, the more one gradually dispenses with the black and white and deals more with the hues and nuances that are more objective than the emotional impact of men going over the top to their certain death.
For example the Somme tragedy caused a rethink in strategy and a refinement in the way armies fought and tactics altered to reduce the deaths of so many men and wasn’t just a dreadful loss of lives. By the end of WW1 the old trench confrontation was largely gone and the armies moved in more mobile fashion. Whilst battle tactics were re-thought, old alliances and political grievances multiplied hence the coming of a second and even more global conflict and greater civilian casualties of which the holocaust was just one mind defying catastrophe.
The blood of youth is still being spilled on foreign fields, way out east on the dusty plains of Afghanistan. The numbers of dead are minimal and don’t make comparisons feasible with WW1but the impact of instant pictures and commentary from the front line increase the sense of immediacy and loss. We train our soldiers to kill and then wonder aloud why they end up being killed. The mother of a dead soldier has a dialogue with the Prime Minister of the UK through the media on why her son was killed on the battlefield.
One imagines had Herbert Asquith the Prime Minister in 1916 been handwriting letters of condolence to relatives of the dead, he’d still have been writing away at the start of World War 2, had he imitated the present Prime Minister’s duty of handwritten letters to relatives of the dead. One wonders occasionally in solitary moments what society the dead in the Great War fought to preserve or change. The very public dialogue over the dead in wounded does not, I should add, minimise the loss of life in Afghanistan.
One cannot begin to imagine what it was like for men who stood in trenches waiting to go over the top in the almost certain knowledge they would die or be wounded and die anyway from lack of medical attention. There were no blogs to write, Prime ministers to call or tributes to be paid. Just a genuine and uncompromising moment of truth for tens of thousands of men whose remains lie in unmarked graves or worse, whose remains were never found. At Croke Park on Sunday last, Australian and Irish players stood shoulder to shoulder as the anthems blared and one could see the tension in grown men’s eyes and read the nerves etched in the dryness of the lips, the clenched fists and closed eyes, just as they would have done in the trenches over one hundred years ago. This is a moment of truth for young sporting men though one is in no doubt it would not be as uncompromising as the one faced in the trenches in 1916.
As the roll of honour posted on this site testifies, Australian, Irish, English, Welsh, Kiwi and many more rugby internationals from other countries opted for the ultimate sacrifice and gave up their life so that we can enjoy the freedom we have in our society today. Players may get hurt during the course of the game but for sure, death does not await those who will do battle with each other on the field of play. It’s only a game after all.
What passing bells for those who die as cattle?
Only monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
Remember them.
With the opening salvoes in the sporting sense well and truly fired this Autumn, a certain rhythm has been established with England struggling, Scotland appearing likely to struggle, Wales underachieving and Irish expectations bubbling along. On Sunday, Ireland’s bubble almost punctured before it had swelled to full maturity with the Aussies doing what they do best by competing, no matter how immature the team they field. There’s little to be said about this match that hasn’t been in print except for the fact that some of the print is misguided and written with an agenda depending on its source.
From an Ulster and my perspective Paddy Wallace played very well, whilst pundits of a Leinster hue hanker after the out of form D’arcy. It’s a little reminiscent of the rugby club scene in Ulster were reputation often lords it over form. The ’class is permanent’ mantra often flies in the face of reason, though sometimes it fulfils its criteria. The trick I suppose is determining when ‘class’ will no longer carry a player through a weakening of his powers to perform and replacement is necessary and not just a matter of form. Two such players who fulfil the class category are Brian O’Driscoll and Ronan O’Gara.
Of the two, one has been performing very well and satisfying the ‘class’ title whilst performing at maximum levels. The other has been stuck in the rut of poor form and under performance. On Sunday the two conspired to hand Australia a seven point lead. Not a lot has been made of this in the negative sense and after a quiet match, the Brian variety of the twosome was there at the death to round of a move and seal a draw which at one stage looked unlikely.
Being in the ‘class’ bracket of players, the duo were able to ‘justify’ to the media, the early gift to the Aussies by explaining they had to try things. Naturally throwing a long miss pass just outside your 22 in the opening minutes of a first class game is generally considered high risk and in this instance had a disastrous result. One wonders had it been Paddy Wallace perform this risk taking would he have been considered in so philosophical a light as the classy duo.
O’Gara looks to me to be on the way down the hill and may well struggle to command a starting place in the Ireland side by the time the 6N is over. In his case, you can only talk your way out a slump so often before someone examines the talk against walk formula in detail. Indeed O’Gara may well be revisited with Humphreys/ROG scenario, where he will find out what it was really like for Humphreys when ROG sounded off to O’Sullivan at training as Humphreys looked on fully aware of what was transpiring. If so it is no more than ROG deserves for his arrogance.
O’Driscoll after suffering a slump in performance by his own lofty standards, has come back stronger if a little slower. He will go to the world cup, injury permitting and perhaps will even be the star of that tournament. Kidney will be unlikely to have to make a decision to drop the great man and won’t have to repeat his comments on dropping D’Arcy, as one of the most difficult decisions he has ever made. Jeez what will he do if he has to drop O’Driscoll? Go unshaven for a week, wear make- up and disguise himself as Hitler?
O’Driscoll has near immortal status in the world game and led me to recall some more lines from the musical Evita which may be apt when his brightly burning star begins to dim. ‘Oh What a Circus’ contains a commentary on the mythical status enjoyed by Eva Peron, a sporting status of similar kind is held by O’Driscoll. Will it all end in ignominy?
You let down your people Evita,
You were supposed to be immortal,
That’s all they wanted, not much to ask for,
But in the end you, could not deliver.
In the interim O’Driscoll delivers, the crowd is in raptures, he is immortal, not much to ask for and on Sunday he could deliver. Well not everybody was in raptures as George Hooke bemoaned, as only he can, Brian’s over enthusiastic celebration of his try. A moment created by others, he may as well enjoy before it all fades to grainy black and white.
As BJ Botha might say, Brian O’Driscoll, classy back!
Corrections, comments or questions?