I am not, in general, an overly optimistic person. Especially where Irish sport is concerned. Hopeful, always, but confident that we’ll win? Rarely.

And this isn’t a new thing. Back in the heady days of Italia ‘90 when the entire country was caught up in football-fever I can remember being asked if I though we’d win our next match. Against Italy. I answered confidently, telling my uncle that we hadn’t a hope. My mathematical prowess tells me that for the world cup in 1990 I was all of 11. Eleven years of age and already I was a cynical little git who knew we couldn’t win.

And yet for some reason I have a good feeling about tonight’s match. I may be proven wrong. France may run riot. Eoin Reddan may have a mare of a game. Ronan O’Gara may continue with the terrible kicks. The pack may continue to stand around waving their hands in the air instead of getting stuck into rucks. But if that happens I will simply accept the slagging at my optimism, because I’m confident that the Irish team has enough talent to win this match. I’m not predicting a bonus point win, although that would be nice, but I think we’ll “get it done”.

I may deluded and crazy. Given the recent performances there is no real reason to forecast an Irish victory. And France need to win. If they lose they are out. If we lose there is still the vaguest of chances we can progress, depending on our Argentina match. But for the hosts, for France! to go out at the pool stage. Well, there are upsets and then there are upsets.

Wouldn’t it be nice though?

Maybe it is because I’ve gotten used to the rugby crowd performing well, and even winning major competitions. And maybe it is misplaced because we can only judge ourselves against the other Six Nations teams. But for once, I’m remaining hopeful. I remaining positive. I may be deluded and irrational but isn’t that what sport is all about?

And any supporters in France are being asked to head down to the team hotel (Sofitel Porte de Sevres, 8-12 Rue Louis Armand, 75015, Paris) and show your support before they leave for the stadium.

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Talk about entertaining rugby matches. Okay, so we might not have had the “free-flowing champagne” rugby that certain quarters yearn for, but for sheer tension and not knowing what was going to happen this opener to the World Cup was more than sufficient. And 17-12 to Argentina! I’m delighra.

Although maybe I shouldn’t be. Will we now face a backlash from France. Had Les Bleus suffered their version of the “Croke Park nerves” that we suffered in the Six Nations, and if so will they try to do to us what we did to England? And is this just the boost that Argentina need? Now that they’ve proved “they exist” they’ll be aiming to push on and win all their pool matches.

I still have a good feeling about this RWC. I think we’ll do well. I was flicking between the coverage on TV3 and Setanta Sports and so caught both Denis Hickie and Eddie O’Sullivan giving their reaction. Hickie was his usual sensible self, saying that it would really affect the players, they have to concentrate on their own matches and playing the game the way they want to. They don’t want to have to worry about what other teams are doing. And O’Sullivan seemed to come away with positives. Of course there are also the negatives. How will our scrum hold-up against the French? Their maul was also quite impressive. Still, if they use the same full-back I’m sure ROG will fling up a couple of garryowens just like Argentina did. I don’t think that the Pumas will try the same thing against us, although I would like to see it, Dempsey would have a field day.

Roll on Sunday.

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So, instead of rugby this blog will know turn its attention to… cricket! Nah, not really, though I have watched some of our winning ways. Who knew that failed^[1] furrin^[2] crickteers could play so well? Or, if I’m being honest, who really cared. Still, now that they are out there winning, and fans are singing olé olé olé^[3] the rest of us will be happy to see them do well.

In case you all didn’t know, the Six Nations finished up on Saturday. We were playing first, on account of the BBC organising things. Bloody English! And the match was one of the most entertaining, plus we scored over 50 points. All good. You know, apart from that last minute try from Italy after we really should have put the ball out of play, but no point in moaning. As B#5 said, sure, no matter what we scored those french fuckers’d^[4] probably go one better. But we had such high hopes ^[5] as it looked like Scotland might just do enough. But no, bloody crappy refs asking stoooopud questions when everyone and their dog could see that there was no grounding visible, therefore the benefit of the doubt must go to the defending team, and therefore you may NOT award the try should have been Mr. TMO’s call.

But, what can you do? Pray for payback come the Autumn, that’s what. So you’d better watch out then.

I would have loads and loads of photos of the terribly exciting and thrilling St. Patrick’s Day Parade from Sligo, only as B#3 was invest-igamating the new camera he hit the delete all button. I saved some, but not all. Mainly the attention grabbing parade consisted of bands. Marching pipe bands. In rain gear.

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My only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey!

What a match. What a result. Role on Scotland and Italy.

Super Saturday or what? The fun started before I went to bed on Friday^[1] when B#5 texted me to say he’d gotten his hands on a ticket for the big match. Bad news was that he couldn’t get me one, his was a schoolboy one that some fella didn’t want. Don’t know why, he asked no question just grabbed it. His train got into Dublin around 3 on Sat., so I was busy texting him the insane opening scores from the Italy Scotland match. 21-0 after 7 minutes, and Scotland’s nightmare start was all down to their own sloppiness. Part of me really wanted Scotland to make a come back, I was giving out to Mr. Paterson for not taking any of the points on offer. Constantly kicking for touch and never getting near scoring a try! But a little part of me wanted Italy to win^[2] Historic, seeing as they’d never won a Six Nations away match before. And if they’d lost after those early tries it would have been heartbreaking. It’ll be really interesting to see them face Wales, I’m thinking that the Wooden Spoon might be headed Wales, despite the fact that they finally managed to score some tries in this year’s competition. But I’m getting ahead of myself. After the Scotland match came the Ireland match.

And the tension was such that I had to put away the beer, couldn’t be drinking as I had to concentrate on the match. But before that came the appearances by the teams, and the crowd gave the English team a great reception. Nothing compared to the reception they gave Ireland, but still nice to see. And after all that had been written and talked about regarding GSTQ, there wasn’t even the slightest hint of trouble^[3] Instead it was sung and listened to with respect, before Amhrán na bhFiann and Ireland’s Call were belted out, with so much emotion^[4] that tears were shed. And then, the match itself.

The opening was a bit dodgy. England took the lead, 3-0 and a slow start from Ireland looked likely. But not this time. Not a bit of it. O’Gara evened the score up with a penalty of his own, and from there on it was all Ireland. England were totally outplayed in one of the most intense first halfs I have ever seen. O’Driscoll was back and although quiet by his usual standards was still hugely influential. Stringer was back and as game as ever. Paulie too was back, I know he hadn’t missed a game, but he hasn’t been playing as well as he can recently. But in this match he was fantastic, back to his best, and Man of the Match, although maybe O’Gara could have claimed the award as he totally dominated the match. But then again, so too could Wallace, he was immense. And with Horgan back to his preferred position, and displaying some GAA high-fielding talents to score that try.

What a day, and what a result, 43-13! Forty-three points we scored. Gwan Ireland!

Image from IrishRugby.ie

Then I had to leave the on-screen celebrations and head out and find de brudder in the seething mass of happy fans coming down Parnell St. And headed home to hope Wales would finish off a perfect day by beating France.

It was not to be however, Wales may have gotten off to a good start, but in the end France’s class showed out and they won, playing well-within themselves. Bloody French spoiling our party

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Author: Irene Nemirovsky trans. Sandra Smith
ISBN: 0099488787
DDC: 843.912
See also: LibraryThing ; wikipedia ; Caribousmom ; Paris Parfait ; Erin’s Library ; Historical/Present

Hot, thought the Parisians. The warm air of spring. It was night, they were at war and there was an air raid. But dawn was near and the war far away.

Two novellas and some appendices make up this book. The two fiction pieces were intended to be part of a series of books about France during World War II, but the author, Irene Nemirovsky died in a concentration camp in August 1942, and that is what makes up the non-fiction element of this book. Of course the real like story of Nemirovsky, and how this book came to be published makes up a large element of the media coverage surrounding the novel, but the fiction element alone deserves attention. The background, and fact that it was written as these events were taking place, adds to the work as a whole.

Read the rest of this entry »

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Well, obviously enough, with the weekend just gone my first topic of this post has to be… the role of the Catholic Church in the political life of Ireland.

Or maybe not.

I’d much prefer to ramble on about the rugby. I didn’t catch any of the England-Scotland match, though I hear Wilko was fabtastic, but his try wasn’t one. I am a fan of Wilkinson, and in one way I do hope his road to recovery is straightforward, but then again, we play England fairly soon and I really want to win.

I didn’t see much of the France-Italy game either. Was at the aunt’s having lunch. But I’m very disappointed in Italy. This was to be their year to win a game, but they played horrendous rugby^[1] and it’ll be the Wooden Spoon if they continue on like that.

And so on to our match, and could you get much more intense than that?
And yes Ireland were lucky not to have O’Callaghan penalised, but there were more than a few occasions when I saw Wales not releasing the ball when tackled. Turns and roundabouts. Three tries to nil means we finished better on the day. And on a day when O’Gara had a horrible first 40 minutes that says a lot.

Injuries now are the big worry for Sunday against France. Darcy is supposed to be fine, O’Driscoll may make it. Although that might just be talk to keep the French guessing. The big worry is Stringer, who has a hairline fracture in his hand.

We’ll see what happens.

In today’s weather update it looks like winter has finally arrived now that it is spring. Bloody freezing out this morning so it it. And the last half an hour or so on the drive home on Saturday was through freezing fog so dense that you couldn’t see nuttin’.

Still the trip home meant I was finally able to stick all the music on the mp3 player. Only around 2,500 songs or so, but while I was adding them I also spent a few hours^[2] deleting all the duplicates from the PC. I’m not really sure why we needed ten copies of some songs on the hard drive, though I’m sure there was a very good reason for it.

And you’ll all be pleased to know that the newest cat is still alive. And as stupid as any cat. Put out by the mutt leaping about the sitting room chasing a ball she decided to leave the room, but as she jumped down from the chair she slipped on the wooden floor and smashed into the ironing board, but instead of realising that she was the cause of her collision she promptly turned and blamed the innocent hound. Spitting at him until he nosed her out of the way.

The gasúr had his birthday while I was away. He is a whole year old now^[3] and taking a few steps, though he prefers to crawl.

How was everyone’s weekend?

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