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Wales v Ireland (pre/during/post thread)
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teednab-el wrote: »will never forget ryan nugents commentary when ROG kicked that drop-kick....will never forget it.!
You'll forget his name though! 0 -
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ON 21 MARCH 2009, Ireland played Wales in the Millennium Stadium, Cardiff, winning by a score of 17-15. Previous to that they'd beaten France in Dublin 30-21, Italy in Rome 38-9, England in Dublin 14-13, and Scotland in Edinburgh 22-15.
Robert Kearney, Geordan Murphy, Tommy Bowe, Brian O’Driscoll, Paddy Wallace, Gordon D’arcy, Luke Fitzgerald, Ronan O’Gara, Tomás O’Leary, Peter Stringer, Jamie Heaslip, Denis Leamy, David Wallace, Stephen Ferris, Paul O’Connell, Donncha O’Callaghan, Malcolm O’Kelly, Mick O’Driscoll, John Hayes, Tom Court, Jerry Flannery, Rory Best, Marcus Horan.
These are the men of the second Grand Slam winning Irish team in the history of the tournament. This squad emulated their predecessors of 1948 on Saturday. The chance of a lifetime, one shot at immortality, a moment of history, and one for the grandchildren – and they grasped it. This was not needless hyperbole, the fact of the matter is that what Ireland achieved on Saturday had only been achieved by an Irish team once before in the history of the Five/Six Nations Championship. Not since the group of players in 1948 had a team from this island defeated all of their opponents in Europe's leading international rugby tournament, a time when a lot of our parents probably weren't even around to witness it. Be thankful that you were, and as Declan Kidney said last week, enjoy the week, because if you don't enjoy times like this you won't enjoy anything.
Many moons ago, my siblings and I used to travel into Croke Park on a Sunday to watch Dublin play in the All-Ireland Football Championship. Invariably, the location was Hill 16, probably more so due to the economics of the ticketing system rather than any GAA romanticism. Being a group of two boys and two girls, spread over five years in age, the natural dynamic was of two brothers besotted with Dublin GAA, and the elder of the two girls forced to tag along. The youngest girl however, found herself sans-babysitter, and insisted on bringing a book along to these games. Despite the obvious commotion, she was blissfully unaware that there was an exercise in life and death playing in front of her, and was more concerned with the exploits of Enid Blighton’s ‘The Famous Five’.
I moved abroad after these teenage times, and spent three years cocooned in the rugby vacuum of North America. Forced to stream the Rugby World Cup 2003 semi-final between New Zealand and Australia on the internet, and to listen to Jonny Wilkinson’s famous drop-goal over the radio, I never anticipated the explosion in popularity that rugby union experienced in these years. Men like Keith Wood, Brian O’Driscoll, Paul O’Connell, Denis Hickie et al generated a huge surge in the profile of the Irish rugby team during this period.
Upon my return to Ireland, I discovered that my youngest sister had taken a fanatical interest in rugby union, so much so that she was taking in a World Cup match during breakfast before heading off to school in the autumn of 2003. This was probably around the time of rugby union seeping into the consciousness of the general Irish public. No longer was rugby the reserve of the private school elite and the provincial club system, here it was in the mainstream and garnering the front and back pages of the country’s media.
The hype and the publicity moved along at a steady pace before building into a crescendo for the Rugby World Cup in 2007. No Irish team had ever entered a major international sports’ tournament boldly predicting victory, but this year was Irish rugby’s year. The hype, the media, and publicity, was all supposed to foretell a glorious victory for the Irish men against the heavyweights of world rugby, but alas, it was not to be.
The 2007 season ended with much incrimination, finger-pointing, and questions on the longevity of the ‘Golden Generation’ of Irish rugby. The resignation of supremo Eddie O’Sullivan in 2008, followed by much finger-pointing and rumour, led to the IRFU “committee” appointing Munster coach Declan Kidney as the new Irish coach.
It would be easy to say that we expected miracles this season, or that we expected demoralisation, but the reality is that no-one knew what to expect. Sure, if someone had offered us a Six Nations Championship seven weeks ago, we’d have taken their hand off, but once the dismissal of France and England was complete, it wasn’t enough. The challenge of the perennial party-poopers Scotland was enough to cause palpitations, but they were swept aside with a clinical performance befitting a team that knew where it’s main goal lay.
It was 1948 when Ireland last won a Grand Slam, and it’s the only time in the country’s rugby history. Many, many great Irish players have attempted to emulate that achievement since then, but none succeeded. That is, until the class of 2009. Here were the ‘Golden Generation’; a group of players that promised so much, and despite the Heineken Cups and Celtic Leagues and conquering of Southern Hemisphere opposition, delivered little in the way of Six Nations glory.
It was tense, it was close. It ebbed and flowed. It made us wince, made us gasp, made us cheer, and made us shout. In the end, it delivered the only second Grand Slam in Irish rugby history. I can imagine the scenes around the world. Dublin, Cork, Belfast, Galway, Limerick, Sydney, Melbourne, Perth, New York, Boston, San Francisco, Chicago, Shanghai, Beijing, Tokyo, Toronto, Vancouver, Berlin, Paris, Madrid, Rome . . . the list goes on. The main this is, that wherever green was worn today, the crowd cheered, and they cheered for history, because that was what we witnessed.
I could tell you that I cried at the full time whistle, but it would be an untruth. When time went dead, and the victory was ours, I was stunned. I leaned back against the wall at the back of the bar, and took several long deep breaths – processing my emotions. I stood amongst the jumping and the cheers and the euphoria, and remained immune to it for a moment. About thirty seconds later, I sobbed uncontrollably. I looked around; people, Ulster, Leinster, Munster and Connaght, hell, even from abroad, but that somehow felt a connection with what had been attained, leapt and cheered and celebrated – the dream had become a reality.
It’s late here – almost 9pm. In the streets of Ireland, the night is only beginning. The celebrations will continue long into the night, and so they should. We’ve witnessed history, something that has never been achieved in sixty-one years by our nation. Ignore the begrudgers, the party-poopers, and the scorn – this is our time, and a time to celebrate.
Wherever green is worn, celebrate and exalt in the achievements of our team and our nation. For in this year, two thousand and nine - the victory is ours.
COME ON IRELAND!!!!!!0 -
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Anyone got info? 
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