6 nations 2007
Discussion
Starting to get warmed up for this as the countries begin announcing their squads. I'm hoping for some kind of revival from the England team but am not holding my breath - they should be capable of winning the first 2 games against Scotland and Italy, but after that the going will get stickier.
Wilkinson is now fit again - for how long I hear you ask. At least they are talking about him being back in the squad. Let's hope that he can do some kind of fairytale career and have a spate of fitness for this year's world cup...
Would be interested to hear your musings, predictions, etc. By the way, do any of you discuss rugby on a particular internet forum? BBC peed me off by closing the Scrum 5 site and I haven't found a good equivalent since.
Wilkinson is now fit again - for how long I hear you ask. At least they are talking about him being back in the squad. Let's hope that he can do some kind of fairytale career and have a spate of fitness for this year's world cup...
Would be interested to hear your musings, predictions, etc. By the way, do any of you discuss rugby on a particular internet forum? BBC peed me off by closing the Scrum 5 site and I haven't found a good equivalent since.
ewenm said:
The World Cup is not far away and they need to be building a decent squad towards that.
I think a lot of people have already taken the attitude that it is too late to do anything about this world cup, and that the more realistic attitude is to aim for playing in a good squad for 2011! Depressing view of it all, but after the autumn debacles and slide down the world rankings (6th now aren't they?) it's maybe pure pragmatism.
Either way, when you talk about the WC I just think about the phenomenal All Blacks team - hard to see them losing unless they get an attack of the chokes.
nel said:
ewenm said:
The World Cup is not far away and they need to be building a decent squad towards that.
I think a lot of people have already taken the attitude that it is too late to do anything about this world cup, and that the more realistic attitude is to aim for playing in a good squad for 2011! Depressing view of it all, but after the autumn debacles and slide down the world rankings (6th now aren't they?) it's maybe pure pragmatism.
Either way, when you talk about the WC I just think about the phenomenal All Blacks team - hard to see them losing unless they get an attack of the chokes.
Agreed, but I'm currently concerned that England won't make the Semis... I don't expect England to defend the world cup, but do want a good performance...
ewenm said:
nel said:
ewenm said:
The World Cup is not far away and they need to be building a decent squad towards that.
I think a lot of people have already taken the attitude that it is too late to do anything about this world cup, and that the more realistic attitude is to aim for playing in a good squad for 2011! Depressing view of it all, but after the autumn debacles and slide down the world rankings (6th now aren't they?) it's maybe pure pragmatism.
Either way, when you talk about the WC I just think about the phenomenal All Blacks team - hard to see them losing unless they get an attack of the chokes.
Agreed, but I'm currently concerned that England won't make the Semis... I don't expect England to defend the world cup, but do want a good performance...
Its all on that Group game with South Africa. The winner should get to the semi's, the loser faces a seriouly tough Quarter final.
At the moment i can't see England beating SA, but we'll see how they go in the 6 Nations under a new captain, coach and some key changes.
krusty said:
Wilkinson back in the squad.
Back to his old form, or injured after ten minutes?????
The former, I hope.
obiwonkeyblokey said:
I can see Ireland doing really well in the 6 nations and if they were to win it, could be a force to be reckoned with in the world cup ( I hope as I have tickets to all their games!!)
I can see Ireland doing well in the 6N and then going on to under-perform in the World Cup, particularly if they meet New Zealand in the quarters, which looks fairly likely...
2007 is definitely a bust. I'd love to be proven wrong but it's going to be a southern hemisphere victory I reckon. Kiwis probably.
Looking forward to tomorrow though given our selection. Especially since I'm now in Scotland
I have a blue and white quadrant shirt with the thistle and the rose on it Cop-out central 
Looking forward to tomorrow though given our selection. Especially since I'm now in Scotland
I have a blue and white quadrant shirt with the thistle and the rose on it Cop-out central Just waiting for my mate to turn up, then off to the pub for the first of 3 games this weekend. Here's a fantastic piece from Peter O'Toole to get us in the mood:
Peter O'Toole said:
It's like somebody has turned out the light when the championship ends every season; there is almost a sense of bereavement. Sorry, too strong a word. Loss is better. I will bloody well miss it until next February.....
The ritual on international day in Dublin was always to meet in the Horseshoe Bar of the Shelbourne Hotel, early but not so early as to suggest a serious drink problem or a failure to get to bed the previous night. Let's say 10am, for decency's sake. It was always busy and bustling. In those days if you wanted anything in Dublin - an abortion, false passport, erotic literature, buy a horse or place a bet - you headed for the Shelbourne. It was a unique and much-valued clearing house for Dublin's supposedly respectable middle class. Then it was off down Baggot Street via various hostelries. The temptation was always to linger but I'm a great stickler for getting to the game on time for the anthems - I couldn't abide that frenzied, last-minute rush for the curiously timed 2.45pm kick-offs - so I headed for my doctor's house (he delivered two of my children in Dublin) that was conveniently nestled close to the mighty south terrace. After the match we would retrace our steps, ending up back at mission control - the Shelbourne - for the post-mortem when suddenly we were all very great rugby experts indeed.
Paris is another great weekend. I once did three movies on the trot there and was virtually resident for two years. The ritual was that we would all met at Café Moustache, which was owned by Sidney Chaplin, son of Charlie. Much merriment, of course, but before the morning grew too old there was always a 100-yard challenge race down the tree-lined boulevard for able-bodied males which I am proud to report I once won while still wearing my Donegal tweed jacket. After the match at the old Stade Colombes we headed for Castels, a nightclub in Rue Princesse where all the boxers, jockeys, actors and other reprobates - accompanied by assorted exotic females - convened. Jean was a very dashing figure, an Olympic yachtsman and flanker for Racing Club and Castels was definitely the place to be seen.
Cardiff was another matter, horrific Ireland defeats polluting my memories in the Seventies. I always ended up with a mob of drunken Welsh doctors or medical students - the maddest of the mad, frankly - down Tiger Bay, drinking Brains Skull Attack, eating kebabs, stepping over broken glass and vomiting profusely every hour or so. Then I would travel back to Paddington on a zoo of a train, shoulder to shoulder in the buffet bar drinking neat vodka out of a paper cup, while somebody else was sick over me. Hey ho. I love their anthem, though, it leaves me a weeping, emotional mess but, strangely, I feel a better, cleansed, person on its conclusion. Singing - optimistically in the shower on match morning, in unison at the ground or drunkenly in the pub - is the great cement that binds the championship together.
The ritual on international day in Dublin was always to meet in the Horseshoe Bar of the Shelbourne Hotel, early but not so early as to suggest a serious drink problem or a failure to get to bed the previous night. Let's say 10am, for decency's sake. It was always busy and bustling. In those days if you wanted anything in Dublin - an abortion, false passport, erotic literature, buy a horse or place a bet - you headed for the Shelbourne. It was a unique and much-valued clearing house for Dublin's supposedly respectable middle class. Then it was off down Baggot Street via various hostelries. The temptation was always to linger but I'm a great stickler for getting to the game on time for the anthems - I couldn't abide that frenzied, last-minute rush for the curiously timed 2.45pm kick-offs - so I headed for my doctor's house (he delivered two of my children in Dublin) that was conveniently nestled close to the mighty south terrace. After the match we would retrace our steps, ending up back at mission control - the Shelbourne - for the post-mortem when suddenly we were all very great rugby experts indeed.
Paris is another great weekend. I once did three movies on the trot there and was virtually resident for two years. The ritual was that we would all met at Café Moustache, which was owned by Sidney Chaplin, son of Charlie. Much merriment, of course, but before the morning grew too old there was always a 100-yard challenge race down the tree-lined boulevard for able-bodied males which I am proud to report I once won while still wearing my Donegal tweed jacket. After the match at the old Stade Colombes we headed for Castels, a nightclub in Rue Princesse where all the boxers, jockeys, actors and other reprobates - accompanied by assorted exotic females - convened. Jean was a very dashing figure, an Olympic yachtsman and flanker for Racing Club and Castels was definitely the place to be seen.
Cardiff was another matter, horrific Ireland defeats polluting my memories in the Seventies. I always ended up with a mob of drunken Welsh doctors or medical students - the maddest of the mad, frankly - down Tiger Bay, drinking Brains Skull Attack, eating kebabs, stepping over broken glass and vomiting profusely every hour or so. Then I would travel back to Paddington on a zoo of a train, shoulder to shoulder in the buffet bar drinking neat vodka out of a paper cup, while somebody else was sick over me. Hey ho. I love their anthem, though, it leaves me a weeping, emotional mess but, strangely, I feel a better, cleansed, person on its conclusion. Singing - optimistically in the shower on match morning, in unison at the ground or drunkenly in the pub - is the great cement that binds the championship together.
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