Bollocks.
It's a doosey of a game to try and write about, it ran the gamut of what makes sport so gloriously, irrationally brilliant, and how it can be so coldly cruel. I was going to debate the issue of the red card, but I've changed my mind, every Welsh fan has the rest of their rugby-watching lives to do that. People say it ruined the game, but I want to talk about what made the game great.
My favourite sportswriter, Simon Barnes, wrote that sport can be great in three main ways. There's the visceral, tribal excitement of watching 'your' team beat 'your rivals' team, derby games where the match is a proxy for years, decades, even centuries of conflict and enmity; Liverpool v Manchester United, Red Sox v The Yankees, India v Pakistan in cricket, and everything else. Sport can also be great when it surprises us with performances that transcend all our expectations; Usain Bolt's 9:58sec 100m, Senna's first lap at Donnington in '93, Don Bradman's carreer test batting average of 99.94, things which make us question what is possible. Finally, sport can also be great just for pure drama, giving us stories worthy of any page, stage or screen. This is what we saw on Saturday.
Going into the game Wales were favourites, not overwhelmingly though; their inexperience could undo them, France are always unpredictable customers and this is a world cup semi-final, knockout rugby, a small, anomalous moment can change everything.
The anticipation for every Welsh fan was palpable; if we just keep on playing as we have done, we'll have them beat and be in the final, our first ever final. Crazy stuff! They were 80/1 to win before the tournament! Their warm-ups hadn't lit the world up and there were a lot of questions about some of the younger, untested players. But nevertheless they found themselves on the brink of making history at Eden Park.
You sometimes hear people refer to games in sport as "fairytales" or "Hollywood stories". In fairytales and Hollywood a story starts with a setup, or equilibrium, as it's sometimes called. This is where the audience is presented with the 'natural' state of the world we are watching; there's a beautiful princess living contently in a kingdom and is in love with a handsome prince, Sam is running a small 'cafe' in Casablanca, trying to avoid the war that's raging, Arnold Schwarzenegger is the leader of a special ops unit who need to go into the jungle to take out some terrorists. In the context of Saturday's game; Wales are the in form team, favourites to beat the opposition (the French, so often the villains in Hollywood films) and reach the final of the World Cup. The game starts, James Hook kicks the first points and Wales take the lead, it was all going according to plan.
The drama then comes when the equilibrium that we're presented with is upset for some reason, this is usually referred to as the conflict, an unanticipated challenge for our protagonists which will force them to go through major changes. The princess is kidnapped by a troll so the prince must fight to save her, Sam's old flame and her Nazi-fighting lover turn up at the cafe looking for assistance forcing him to question his values, Arnie's actually fighting something unknown and much more dangerous than terrorists, forcing him to change the mission. For Wales this major conflict came when they lost their inspirational captain and one of their stand-out, irreplaceable players; Sam Warburton.
Now the team must dig deeper than they ever thought they would be asked too. They must change their plan for the game and their style of play. They all have to give more to make up for the missing man. Do they have the energy? Do they have the fortitude? Do they have the hearts and minds to fight back and win? These are the questions asked of them as they are pushed further and tested harder than ever before.
In stories this is where the protagonists learn about themselves as they adapt and grow and change. As a result of this conflict and the change in the characters we get a resolution to the story. In fairytales and Hollywood this is usually happy; The princess is saved by the brave prince and they live happily ever after, Sam realises he's still human and helps his old lover and her new lover to escape, doing his bit to fight the Nazi's, Arnie learns about his enemy, defeats him and escapes the jungle.
In our resolution Wales are trailing by a point after a valiant effort with 14-men, but manage to win a penalty with minutes left in the game. Halfpenny, the young full-back, steps up to take it. He stares at the posts, they're 50 metres away, a huge kick, but one that will win them the game and take them to the World Cup final. He lines the ball up and takes a few steps back. He stares at the ball and the posts, his mouth is dry, the sounds of the stadium recede, they're replaced by the rhythmic pounding of his nervous heart. He thinks back to his time as a young boy with his grandfather, practicing kicks on a valley's pitch on a cold day. The tension, the nerves, the enormity of the task disappear. All that's left is the simple purpose and the simple motions that he's practiced thousands of times. This is his calling. He approaches the ball, his foot swings through in a slow-motion arc and connects sweetly with the ball. As it flies through the air camera flashes explode like a thousand shooting stars and the breath of every person watching is held. The oval ball tumbles through the night air, end over end, carrying with it the hopes of a nation. Closer and closer it gets, closer and closer the final starts to feel, then it...
...falls short.
The ball doesn't reach over the cross bar, the young man doesn't fulfil his destiny, the team don't reach their final, the country doesn't celebrate. The game goes on, the points don't come, the final whistle goes, it's all over. Fade to black.
That's the story, that's the drama; setup, conflict, resolution. This time the resolution was not a happy Hollywood ending for Wales. It feels like a sad, empty, unjust, gutting ending to what had been an incredible and romantic journey.
Well I've looked at the six nations schedule for next year, so how about this for one. The men from Wales, still with that hurt which burns like acid in their guts, go to the six-nations with one hell of a point to prove.
They start with a replay of the World Cup quarter final, a game against Ireland. There are flashbacks to 5 months ago in New Zealand, thoughts of a World Cup, the outcome of which shook them to their cores. After a nervy first half they manage to bury the memory of that tournament and come out to seal a vital and tough away victory to those ruddy, gnarly Irishmen, which they then follow up with a bruising encounter with the Scots. Next up, England, away. If they win this then they will be 3 for 3 and on course for a Grand Slam. It's a pulsating encounter as a reshaped and revived England team match them in so many areas, but Wales, trailing by 4 points with minutes to go, are taken over the try line by their ferocious captain, Warburton. Jubilation. They go on next to face Italy at home, which leaves one game. France.
Les Blues travel to the Millennium stadium on March 17th, almost 5 months to the day when they inflicted a cruel defeat on a young Welsh side. The afternoon is bitterly cold, but the stadium is fiery with passion and purpose. Shorn of their nutty Terry Thomas lookalike coach, Lievremont, an ambitious French side, also with 4 wins from 4 and playing for the Grand Slam, turn up. The game is fierce and close, as the rugby flows between crunching tackles and fearsome defence, it's the game we were all denied in the World Cup semi-final. There's minutes left on the clock, Wales trail by one point, they get a penalty in front of the posts 50 metres out, the Grand Slam is within touching distance. Leigh Halfpenny steps up. The kick is lined up, he is ready, the stadium simmers into silence, we're all back in Eden Park. The young man approaches the ball, his foot connects. The oval ball tumbles through the air, end over end, heading towards the posts, carrying with it the hopes of a nation. Closer and closer it gets, closer and closer the grand slam feels, then it...
The agony and the ecstasy of sport. Let's start the next story.
