RWC Diary: 8th September 2023

It’s game day! What a build up this game has had so far, much more than even RSA v NZ from 2019 in Tokyo. I check my e mail again, just to make sure I wasn’t sleep walking, and confirm that my ticket is, indeed, approved.

After a massively tiring previous day, I stay in all morning. It’s easy to forget that I’m a middle-aged man now and might not be as quick to recover from late nights and heat waves. Head out about 2pm for a coffee and a croissant. I find a neighbourhood cafe and the croissant is good, but the lemon cake from Baguette on Queen’s Road, is heaps better. The cold brew was spot on. It was just too hot for anything else.

Fortunately, today, I’m in shorts and a t-shirt. Can’t wear your All Blacks top to the media box, so went fully conservative. Walking is a little easier, but to go from never wearing trainers to bouncing about on padded soles takes some doing for the foot. It’s another miserably long walk to (they said 8 mins) to Roland Garros to the Main Media Centre from where the shuttle bus to Stade De France is supposed to take off. After much haranguing and lots of shoulder shrugs, I eventually found someone who spoke English and could be bothered to help me. That led me to the bus meeting point. The interesting thing about the French, is that they often don’t give a shit, but they do it with a certain panache that Sri Lankan apathy can’t match. I venerate this stylish indifference.

The shuttle bus ride was a nightmare. We left Roland Garros at 5pm and ended up at St. Denis at nearly 8pm after having to jump off the bus and walk because of the Paris traffic. I never thought I’d appreciate Colombo traffic, but I do. Honestly, the people that need to migrate are these types with smart watches and step count addictions. Hoofing to your suburban house (because you can’t live in the centre) and waltzing up and down stairs to the underground, and walking every-single-where because you can’t afford a car, is a far cry from pacing up and down air conditioned offices while you’re decoration on a zoom call. Migrate, you buggers, let’s see how you like an actual middle-class life.

Sorry – bit of a digression there.

The Media Centre is a bit chaos, as usual. It’s the nice buzz of people needing to meet deadlines, and record their pieces, and commentators doing their last minute prep. It’s awesome around big tournaments. I get there and find my spot just in time for the opening ceremony, which I have to admit, was underwhelming. Japan pulled out the stops and the French were pretty ‘meh’ about the whole thing. It was loud and disjointed, and apart from the fireworks didn’t reel anyone in with any theatrics. It was, as they say, ‘very okay’.

The teams then came on for their warm ups, which is my favourite bit about being at a live game. You get to see what the teams are really feeling and watch the confidence levels from the body language. The crowd were amazing though. They sang ‘Les Marseillais’ drowning out World Rugby President, Bill Beaumont’s, speech for the most part. Then it was Emanuel Macron’s turn and the crowd booed a good 40% of his speech. It was quite incredible. And there weren’t any CID officers photographing the booers either. The Stade crowd didn’t disappoint. It was like watching a game with a really animated friend, except there are 76,000 of them.

The game itself, I’ll write about elsewhere, it deserves it’s own look-back. Suffice to say that France were deserved winners. They soaked up the pressure and apart from two moments of inaccurate fortuitousness, they failed to threaten France. Even at 13 – 9 early in the second half, you felt that the French would pull this one off. There are a few problems in that All Black camp. I’m afraid they’re trying to play the kind of rugby that they are not equipped to play in terms of personnel. They need good ball to be able to do what they want to do, and they don’t have the ability to get enough of it. France were dominant, and have sent a signal to the Saffas. France vs. SA/IRE will be the real final of this tournament, two matches too early.

At the press con Ian Foster answers my question from yesterday. I asked him whether he is a big more pragmatic about tournaments now, instead of trying to win every game. He emphatically said ‘no’. That they want to win every game. But when he came out yesterday he was very – if anything – very pragmatic. They’ve lost the opener but now need to win the other three to get into the quarters. For me that is the problem. The AB’s are in denial about their ability at the moment. They think they are better than they are, and are hung up with proving a point. If they play to their strengths and personnel, I think things will be different and they can still mount a challenge.

Beauden Barret talked little bit about fatigue and how much running there was in back field, where the All Blacks were forced to play most of their rugby. Is the heat a factor? Are the Southern Hemisphere teams undercooked and is Eddie doing it right, but peaking at the right time. Australia v Georgia today should provide some insight.

Trains ran late, so managed to get back on the public transport, with many sweaty, drunk, French supporters and a few disappointed, drunk Kiwis. Only McDonald’s was open at 2am and I was compelled to have some disgusting nuggers with a cheeseburger. This stuff isn’t even food, man.

Four games, today but I won’t be going to any of them. Need to pack for Marseilles and a long train ride tomorrow. South Africa v Scotland should be a cracker. The Scots have nothing to lose.

I’ll review the game, promise.