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Wow!

I posted – back in February – a really quite excited missive celebrating a Scottish Rugby triumph over the auld enemy on the opening weekend of this year’s Six Nations tournament – at Twickenham! Those who don’t follow such things may not be aware quite how big of a deal this was. The Scots won consecutive victories at the Home of Rugby for the first time in a very long time.

Subsequent to that post – in which I also looked ahead hopefully to at least two more wins in the competition – I kept fairly quiet, so as not to jinx the team. Well – the tournament finished last weekend and I need keep silent no longer.

As predicted, the Scots were unable to beat either the French or the Irish (currently numbers one and two in the world) – the latter completing a fine Grand Slam in Dublin on St. Patrick’s Day (many congratulations!). The Scots did, however, win their other two games, finishing with three bonus point victories and third place in the tournament.

Even more impressive is what those results have done to the current world rankings (see below) – a matter of considerable import in a Rugby World Cup year.

Let it be said at once that Scotland are in a fierce group in the World Cup. They will have to face to both the Irish (again) and the South Africans in the group stages and they would need to beat at least one of them to stand a chance of progressing to the later stages of the tournament. This is extremely unlikely – but we Scots are by nature infeasibly optimistic, so who knows?

…and, of course, nothing will stop us celebrating in the meantime.

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Eddie Butler
1957 – 2022
RIP

 Keith O'Brien aka https://www.flickr.com/photos/gefailgof/ cilmeri, Eddie Butler and Iqwal, CC BY-SA 2.0

Further sadness this week at the news of the passing of Welsh rugby player/captain/journalist/peerless commentator/iconic voice of Welsh rugby.

It feels slightly awkward to be mourning someone even so loved and well known as was Eddie Butler (in the world of Rugby Union at least) at this time when most eyes are focused more intently on Westminster Abbey and on the great state occasion that is the funeral of the UK monarch… one who graced the throne for longer than any previous king or queen.

There is here – clearly – a lesson on the dispassionate nature of death, which as we know well – “Waits for no man“…

I was not really aware of Eddie Butler as a player; back in the early 80s my interest in rugby was still at a very nascent stage. Later, however, his commentaries, his journalism, his narration of many a program eulogising the game and its various campaigns and tournaments (particularly in that wonderful Welsh accent that just seems right for such occasions) became a fixture in the sporting calendar as much as did the great game itself.

Yet another colourful part of the fabric of our lives has gone and will be sadly missed.

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Rodney Marsh
1947 – 2022
Shane Warne
1969 – 2022
RIP

A FILE photo shows wicketkeeping great Rod Marsh (left) with Shane Warne.—Reuters

It seems somehow wrong to be writing about something as apparently trivial as sport with the world currently enveloped in darkness. It is, on the other hand, perhaps exactly the right moment to be considering things that can, on occasion, be noble and pure – and represent some of those qualities about our species which can be positive. Either way I cannot ignore the occasion of the sad passing – mere days apart – of two of the legends of a sport that still, to many, represents our human nature in one of its finest forms.

I inherited a passionate love of cricket from my mother (Father – bless him – did not do sport at all) and I thank her most fervently for that. I grew up following the game in the 60s, 70s and 80s and beyond – and then, when quite old enough to know better, took up playing village cricket in my mid forties. I turned out for our local side reasonably regularly right up until our departure for Canada.

Anyone who followed the recent Ashes series ‘down under’ might understandably complain about the current parlous state of English cricket. Though I would not blame anyone for so doing I would just draw attention to the wide variety of previous eras in which we also came off second best at the hands of those who wear the ‘green baggy’. Throughout the 1970s we were not only regularly pulverised  by the memerising pace of the West Indian quicks (fast bowlers) but also routinely humiliated by the unearthly powers of the great Dennis Lillee and the wild and uncontrollable Jeff Thompson. If they were bowling you can bet your bottom dollar that, twenty two (and a fair bit more) yards away would be the Aussie wicket keeper – Rodney Marsh. The familiar statement – “Bowled Lillee – Caught Marsh” – graced all too many scorecards.

As quoted in The Guardian the current Australian Captain – Pat Cummings – said of Marsh.

I, along with countless other people in Australia, grew up hearing the stories of him as a fearless and tough cricketer, but his swashbuckling batting and his brilliance behind the stumps over more than a decade made him one of the all-time greats of our sport, not just in Australia, but globally, When I think of Rod I think of a generous and larger-than-life character who always had a life-loving, positive and relaxed outlook, and his passing leaves a massive void in the Australian cricket community.”

Cruel fate that the legendary Aussie leg spin bowler, Shane Warne, should pass away just a few days later. Crueler yet that Warne was a relatively young man at 52. Matthew Engel wrote in his Guardian obituary:

Shane Warne, who has died aged 52 of a suspected heart attack, was almost certainly the greatest spin bowler cricket has ever produced. More than that, he was one of the most outsize personalities of any sport. Everything he did in his game and his life was on a grand scale: he lived fast and, it transpires, died young. Warne singlehandedly revived the discipline of leg-spin, which by the time he burst into Test cricket in the 1990s was almost a lost art. He arrived into an Australia team that had already embarked on a run of eight Ashes series wins and made it overwhelmingly stronger – he was still in the business of terrorising Englishmen when he retired from Test cricket 14 years later”.

I will certainly not be alone in remembering clearly watching on the BBC the occasion on which Warne made his test debut in the UK. With the then English captain, Mike Gatting, at the crease the ball was tossed to Warne for his first spell. The very first ball turned off the pitch nearly at right angles and, having pitched well outside the leg stump, clipped the top of the off stump. Gatting could do nothing but stand and stare in amazement. Truly (as almost immediately dubbed) “The ball of the century“.

It is perhaps the nature of the game almost as much as the way that these two larger than life characters played it that they will be missed in the UK (and beyond!) almost as much as they will be in Australia.

 

 

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Regular followers of these observational obiter dicta (a bit of stretch there but let us not be deterred) will be familiar with my routine reports on various sporting occasions that I (or we) deem to be of import.

I do not – frankly – participate in sports myself these days (though much fitness work is yet done) and those who tried to coach me back in my school days would express a total lack of surprise thereat. The following of various noble sports does, however, play an important part in our lives and I like to enthuse about that wherever appropriate.

My last such report to this forum dates from September last and followed hot on the heels of Emma Radacanu’s splendid victory in the US Tennis Open and – of course – of the Olympic games.

Since then – complete radio silence!

There are good reasons for this sad state of affairs.

Over the past three months England have visited Australia for the most recent episode in that epic cricket contest – the Ashes. Opinions were deeply divided as to their prospects. Those in charge of the England campaign claimed (somewhat unconvincingly) that – pandemic apart – England had spent the last two years preparing for this gladiatorial contest and that the omens were for once propitious. Everyone else declared the the English Cricket Board – by prioritising unnecessary short-form tournaments that blocked out the core of the home season – had effectively prevented any of the potential candidates for the test side from gaining relevant match practice in appropriate conditions.

As it turned out ‘everyone else’ was right and England were accordingly humiliated. At the time of writing several of those responsible for this fiasco (though sadly not the chief culprits!) have duly fallen on their swords and we await further developments.

No cause for reportage there!

In the world of rugby the home nations had surprisingly good Autumn International series, with each side beating one or more of their southern hemisphere counterparts; no mean feat! I would have felt inclined perhaps to have reported thereon where it not for the fact that my attention was distracted by the performance(!) of my long supported Premiership side – Bath. Readers may recall that in 2015 – the year that we left the UK to move to Canada – Bath unexpectedly made it through to the Premiership final, which we eagerly attended at the Cabbage Patch. They were, sadly, well beaten by the beastly Saracens, as duly noted within these pages. Unfortunately their fortunes have since declined and this year they have had a terrible start to the season, losing eleven straight league games before finally winning one against the next club up the table – Worcester. The one piece of good fortune – if such it really be – is that because of COVID there is no relegation from the Premiership for the second year running.

Thank goodness!

So – what moves me to write about sport now?

Well – four things…

Firstly, the Winter Olympics have just begun. No-one in the UK really gives a rat’s arse about these games, because we are pants at most of the sports involved – but here in Canada, of course, it is a different kettle of fish entirely.

Secondly, Canada have suddenly – and to many people’s surprise – become rather good at footie and have just qualified for this year’s World Cup. Who woulda thought it?!

Thirdly, last weekend Bath hosted last year’s champions – Harlequins – at the Rec. To everyone’s surprise, they won! Perhaps their fortunes have finally changed for the better (famous last words!).

The final thing is that this weekend sees the start of this year’s Six Nations championship – and all matches will once again be played in front of (doubtless) full houses. Hooray for that, say I!

This Saturday sees Scotland host the ‘auld enemy’ at Murrayfield for the Calcutta Cup. Whisper it quietly, but it does look as though this might be the closest competition for some years…

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CC0 Public Domain image from https://www.maxpixel.net/sportsIn the afterglow of Emma Raducanu’s thrillingly successful and unprecedented title campaign at the US Tennis Open last week I promised that I would take a quick canter through the various sporting events that took place throughout the summer, as it now winds down into the Fall.

In the normal run of things I would certainly have posted little vignettes on the events that interested us as they came and went – as a normal part of the rich tapestry of life – by way of illustrating that which keeps us oldies chugging along as opposed to just slumping into an armchair and gazing, dead-eyed, out of the window.

I am, therefore, slightly worried that we have gone through this brief season – watching coverage here and there, rejoicing when sports that we love have shown signs of recovering from the pandemic – only for very little of it to have moved us as it would normally have done.

Is this somehow down to the events themselves – or is it just us?

This was, of course, a belated Olympic and Paralympic year (confusingly maintaining the conceit that it was still 2020 in Tokyo rather than 2021). We enjoyed a fair amount of the coverage and the Brits and Canadians performed pretty much in line with expectation, but though the empty expanses of the spectator-free stadia did not prove quite the dampener that they might have there was still something about the event that prevented it from quite hitting the high notes. As a Brit I was also somewhat worried that in events in which we were but recently world-beaters (rowing and cycling come to mind) we seem to have fallen off the radar. True we won medals in some of the new events (skateboarding, BMX!) but I am not sure what to make of those.

For those of us who are Rugby enthusiasts and who hail from the UK, the quadrennial tours by the British and Irish Lions to the southern hemisphere are virtually on a level with the World Cup when it comes to representing the pinnacle of the sport. We were all thus agog with excitement this summer at the promise of the Lions twelve-yearly trip to South Africa.

You may have gathered from the overall tone of this post that the outcome was a disappointment – and not just because of the results. The tour – beset as it was by the now familiar COVID troubles – had a sadly sour note to it. This was very much not helped by the frankly bizarre behaviour of some of the South African backroom staff – including some who should very much have known better – but it also did not help that the rugby itself was fairly grim. World champions they may be but I for one do not care for the Springbok style of play and the fact that the Lions chose to try to fight fire with fire proved sadly to be the wrong approach on the part of the Lions manager – the otherwise estimable Warren Gatland.

There was one a brief passage in the third and deciding test when the contest suddenly sparked into life; when Scottish fly half Finn Russell finally made it onto the pitch. Sadly it was too little too late – though maybe lessons will be learned (again) for the future.

Having been given a drubbing in India during the winter the English mens’ cricket team faced a busy summer hosting the return series against the Indians as well as the Kiwis – who now hold the Test Championship title. In spite of Joe Root’s repeated heroics the inconsistent form of many of the squad and the lack of match readiness resulting from the introduction during the height of the summer season of an idiotic new short format of the game, resulted in a completely unpredictable sequence of results.

Some of those were down to the Indians, who suffered their own strange lapses without which the England results would have been even poorer. As it was the final test of the summer would have given the English an opportunity to come from behind to tie the series – had it not been postponed indefinitely at the last minute as a result of positive COVID tests in the Indian backroom team. This sad ending seemed about par for 2021.

There was also – I believe – some sort of footie tournament during the summer, but regular readers would not expect me to know anything about that – and nor I do!

 

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The Girl and I watched the other day the extraordinary denouement of the US Open women’s tennis championship from Flushing Meadows, New York.

In the unlikely eventuality that any gentle reader might somehow have remained unaware of the details of this unprecedented match – here they are:

  • The final was between two teenagers – nineteen year old Canadian Leylah Fernandez and eighteen year old Brit Emma Raducanu.
  • Neither girl had been seeded and both had had remarkable and unexpected runs to the final.
  • The winner – Emma Raducanu – is the youngest Briton to win a Grand Slam title.
  • She is also the first British winner of the women’s US Open since Virginia Wade (who was in the crowd) won at Flushing Meadows back in 1968.
  • Ms Raducanu is the first woman or man ever to win a Grand Slam title having started as a qualifier.
  • She is the youngest Slam winner since Maria Sharapova in 2004 and the first woman to win without dropping a set since Serena Williams in 2014.
  • Both young ladies appeared to be supremely self-assured and nerveless throughout. Oh to be so at any age – let alone when still in one’s teens.

The Girl had, naturally, been rooting for Leylah Fernandez and the knowledge that Emma Raducanu was actually born in Toronto and moved with her parents to the UK when she was two years old didn’t really help much. For both Brits and Canadians, however, the current plethora of sporting talent on show from both nations is extremely pleasing and its like has not been seen since eons passed.

Hearty congratulations to both youngsters – but in particular to Ms Raducanu who, in addition to becoming US Open champion, earned herself two good passes in her A Levels a couple of months back (goodness knows how she found the time!). It think it is fair to say that neither of the girl’s lives will be the same again.

Writing about this event reminds me that I have not posted anything at all to this journal on the subject of sport for some considerable time – the which is all the more peculiar given that there has been a fair bit of it on offer this summer.

I feel that a brief catch-up and explanation is due and promise same for the very next posting (or one shortly thereafter should other ‘stuff’ intervene).

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Well, it was originally my intention – just a few days back – that this post would go in one direction – but in the light of subsequent events it has had added to it another, unexpected, twist…

…which, given that even the original subject was going to be somewhat out of character for me, is even more of a surprise.

Let me explain…

It is the time of year that many sporting competitions across different parts of the globe reach their climax. As the intensity and excitement increases, unforeseen and daring deeds are done – giants are slain – and underdogs unexpectedly have their day.

This post was to have been just about the Montreal Canadienes – ‘Les Habs’, who – wonder of wonders – have made it through to the finals of the Stanley Cup. Hoorah!

Canadians – being already very familiar with all of these details – can just skip ahead, but for everyone else… the subject is Hockey (or, as we call it in the UK – ‘Ice Hockey’).

Now – hockey is to Canada what Rugby is to the All Blacks (and what footie is to the English!). Domestic Canadian hockey has a long and tortuous history leading to the eventual hegemony of the National Hockey League (the NHL) which took over the Stanley Cup as the major trophy to be competed for by the winners of the two league conferences – East and West.

The ten sides that made up the league in 1926 were whittled back to six as a result of the Great Depression and the outbreak of World War II and this remained the full complement until 1967, when the NHL entered what is now called the Expansion Era. This extended time of change left the league with its current thirty one sides – far more than Canada can support, with the great majority of the teams being spread across the US.

The problem with this, of course, is that – as in all things – the Americans pumped money into the sport and the centre of gravity shifted south from Canada into the US. As a result Stanley Cup finalists nowadays tend both to hail from the US (though some were originally Canadian sides that moved south). The last time that a Canadian team featured was in 2011 – when the Vancouver Canucks lost to the Boston Bruins – and the last time that the Canadienes made the final was all the way back in 1993.

So – when ‘Les Habs’ won their playoff series against the Las Vegas Knights a few days back there was great celebration throughout the land. The final – over seven matches – starts on Monday!

 

With my having little (no!) interest in the footie (Euro 2021 continues, I believe) and with Bath failing to feature in the playoffs for the UK Rugby Premiership (by a considerable margin!) the Canadienes suddenly seemed to be the major sporting interest chez nous. Our attention was attracted, however, by the club that finished fourth in the Premiership – Harlequins. Given that the fourth club gets an away playoff fixture to the leaders (the mightily impressive Bristol) it didn’t look a though the Quins had much chance, particularly when they went 28-0 down shortly before half time.

Quins have, however, been making something of a specialty this season of Lazarus like resurrections and they came back in extra time to win 36-43. It was an astonishing game all ways round.

The final was today at Twickenham against Exeter – a side who have featured in the final in each of the last six years – winning on three of those occasions. Surely the Quins could not produce another miracle game.

Well – they did! – coming from 31-26 down with fourteen minutes left to win 38-40. Wow! These guys do not know when they are beaten.

So – long story short – congratulations to the Harlequins – and ‘Go Canadienes!’…

 

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I promised that I would cover a second sporting matter in addition to the encomium regarding Scotland’s excellent  Six Nations achievement of last weekend that featured so prominently in my last post… and as I am (where possible) a man of my word – here it is…

When The Girl and I first became what is charmingly called ‘an item’ some decade and a half ago, one of the many things to which I determined to introduce her – as a means of binding our futures more closely together through mutual understanding and appreciation – was the supreme sport of cricket. Long time readers of these meanderings will be well aware of my enduring love for the game – as well as my complete mediocrity as a practitioner thereof.

I will not impose on the gentle reader at this point either an attempt to explain the game’s mysterious appeal, nor to exhaustive catalog our history with its regard. I will mention – however – the now legendary 2005 Ashes series between England and Australia… that being the year that England finally regained the Ashes after nearly two barren decades of trying. They did so – further – against one of the greatest of all Aussie sides.

Clearly this outstanding achievement – which was played out over five gripping five day test matches – was the perfect opportunity to introduce The Girl to the delights of the game. This was made all the more easy by the fact that – in those days – test cricket in the UK was given routine live coverage – for the whole of every one of those twenty five days – by the BBC. We would arrive home from work, switch on the TV and be immediately gripped by the sheer drama with which those encounters were completed. The Girl – who is a huge sports fan anyway – became a convert.

The timing was fortuitous, for the very next year the England Cricket Board (ECB) – in grevious pursuit of filthy lucre – sold it’s soul to the rebarbative Murdoch and the broadcast rights to Sky TV. Live coverage of international cricket disappeared from television over night for those unwilling to render their shilling to the appalling antipodean.

This state of affairs has remained the case ever since. Shockingly live coverage of the English national game cannot be seen on free-to-air TV by the youngsters who might some day play a part in its future.

Or at least – that was the case until this year. Finally, Sky grew tired of featuring the game and Channel 4 picked up – at the last moment – the broadcasting rights for England’s winter series in India. As things have only been put in place at the very last minute it all looks a little low-tech, but we can once again follow every ball in time-honoured fashion (even here in Canada).

Delightfully, the England team responded brilliantly to this development in the first test (which finished earlier this week) by playing a blinder and beating India in India for the first time in yonks. India are one of the very top sides and at home (this being a country that regards the game almost as a religion) they are virtually unbeatable.

Well done England!

 

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What feels like just a few weeks back – but is in fact nearly a month – I wrote a post entitled ‘Welcome Back‘, which raised more than a cheer for the return of Premiership rugby in the UK. In its infinite wisdom (?) the Premiership had decided to complete the unfinished 2019/20 season by the end of October – a feat the achievement of which would require the playing of midweek matches as well as weekend games – before ploughing directly into the 2020/21 season.

Now – rugby is not like soccer (thanks goodness!). It is a contact sport (of course) and a tough one at that… without the dubious protection of the helmets and other accoutrements that are de rigeur in North American variants of the oval ball game.

This means that the players need more recovery time between fixtures than do top level footballers. Of course – there is also nowhere near as much money in rugby, so squads are smaller and one can’t simply run two fifteens in that way that soccer teams can field multiple elevens.

As a result the clubs are all experiencing a particularly intense period right at the moment. The fact that they had plenty of time to prepare during the lock-down has certainly helped – but it is going to be a long haul to the end of the next season.

From the rugby enthusiast’s point of view the more frequent games are rather wonderful – particularly as we went without for so long. If your club is not going so well – of course – it can get pretty depressing, as losses pile up even more rapidly than usual.

If you are doing well – on the other hand…

The gentle reader has probably guessed where this is going. Our team – Bath – has had a run of form such as it has not experienced since the year that we came to Canada. That year they made it through to the final and only lost to the beastly Saracens (boo!). This time Bath have won all of their games subsequent to the return bar one – and have also acquired a healthy crop of bonus points to boot. With two fixtures to go they are comfortably in the top four – which teams get through to the playoff stage.

Now I don’t want to jinx anything (though it is probably already too late for that). The way the season has panned out only the top five clubs have a chance of making the finals – which means that one of them is going to miss out. Bath does not have the easiest of run-ins and the other four are looking strong.

Still – whichever way it turns out this will have been one of their best seasons in recent memory – and that definitely merits a seriously huge cheer.

Come on you Bath!

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I am delighted to be able to wish a warm “welcome back” to English Premiership Rugby!

Hoorah!

When the 2019/20 season was so abruptly terminated back in March in the face of the pandemic there were still nine rounds to be played and it was by no means certain that the program would ever be completed.

Now here we are – in the dog days of the summer – watching (where that is possible) rugger again and with the prospect of a great deal more of it to come. The 2019/20 season is to be wrapped up by the end of October – at which point the 2020/21 season will start immediately. The remaining fixtures in the abandoned 2020 Six Nations Championship are also to be shoehorned in and there is talk of some additional autumn internationals – which all adds up to a mouth-watering prospect.

The games are – of course – being played in empty stadia, which does take some getting used to. When one watches TV coverage of any of the matches one is immediately aware of the presence of an artificial ‘stadium noise’ soundtrack. This is actually quite cleverly done – incorporating as it does peaks and troughs that go someway towards emulating an authentically live ambience. What I don’t know is if this soundtrack is added only to the TV coverage, or if the players can hear it in the stadia.

Anyway – when we left them back in March my team – Bath Rugby – were hovering in the exact middle of the Premiership table. They made a good start in the first game back last week – beating London Irish comfortably at The Rec for a bonus point win – and this week they went one better, trouncing old rivals Leicester away at Welford Road. Granted that is not the challenge that once it was, but it is nonetheless still no mean feat. Let us hope that this momentum can be maintained.

It is very good to see live rugby again; a return to at least some semblance of normality.

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