ALL I GOT FOR CHRISTMAS

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Christmas morning is not what it used to be as the kids are all grown up and Santa’s now just the fairy tale illustrated on the front of Christmas cards.

Time was when you staggered from bed about six in the morning and rumbled down to the tree, helped unwrap the parcels and watched little excited faces open their presents and yelp in delight.

Sunday week ago I stayed in bed a bit later and when the ‘kids’ that are still left in the Parky bunker finally strolled down to open the parcels it was about 11 a.m.

It was all a bit pre programmed with most of us knowing or guessing what was in our parcels.

A bit like the Ulster team really, you know mostly what you’re going to get and it’s a bit pre programmed.

 

Boxing Day Blues

Boxing Day dawned windy, cloudy but dry and so I saddled up the cycle and set out in the direction of Ards propelled by an unusually strong tailwind.

This gave me an unusually false picture of my pedalling prowess as I hit 29mph on the flat, near the outskirts of Comber.  In fact even more unusual I started looking out for speed cameras as I reached the 30mph zone.

I jest, but I was 2mph off breaking the speed limit.

Having arrived in Ards from Ballygowan at the stratospheric average speed of 21mph things took a decidedly downward reading mainly due to pedalling uphill and into a sidewind.

The rest of the morning was spent steadily progressing through the drumlins of the County Down at a less exotic speed than my first 20 minutes.

Later that day I settled down to watch a metaphorical replay of my morning cycle as a novice looking Ulster side showed their naivety with a bright and unexpected first 60 minutes to give Leinster a touch of the Boxing Day blues before succumbing to an ill wind and defeat.

 

The Eve of New Year’s Eve

Despite a late offer of a ticket for the stand I politely declined this kind thoughtful deed.    I was at that stage resigned to watching Ulster on the TV.

Munster were duly outgunned and laid to rest, accompanied by much wailing and gnashing of Turnip teeth on the Munsterfans forum.

MF forum can be a good read in the real sense of the word but the guys commenting on the Ulster game had by and large lost it. They were delusional that they had this game for the taking but for Changa-Rolland, the recession, every Ulster pass forward and a host of other non-descript and tired clichéd reasoning.

Depressingly it seemed that Munster fans were not resigned to their fate.   Rather they exhibited all the false notions of the master race who have just lost a battle

With the IRFU under pressure from Provincial coaches over their desire to limit the number of foreign players in the Provinces, the scheduling of the Inter Pros over Christmas merely added fuel to an already burning bushel of discontent amongst the them.

Both Munster and Ulster fielded weakened sides thereby devaluing the contests.

Not that it hasn’t gone on before but Ulster’s team for Boxing Day was a new dimension altogether with a mixture of untested academy players, Ravens players and one rather forlorn looking Irish squad player, Tom Court.

By contrast Leinster were fielding a half strength 1st team with an all international front row.  Predictions of a rout were unfounded but Ulster lost heavily enough, albeit conceding a hatful of scores in the last 15 minutes.

Munster’s team to face Ulster was weak too but it wasn’t half as weak as Ulster’s Leinster game nursery squad.

Still what the IRFU’s control over these fixtures does for the game in the long term is open to question.  Judging by the number of fans who turned out at Ravenhill the quality of the teams didn’t seem to matter.

At least RTE’s panel of Frankie Sheahan and Donal Lenihan were pretty much on the nail when they commented after the Munster match regarding a lack of clear style of play by Ulster and the way they did just enough to achieve their objective of getting the 5 points.

This was decent punditry devoid of Hook’s whimsical bombast and all the more listenable.

 

A Happy Ulster New Year

My thanks to those 5 or 6 readers who have persevered with this column and still take time to stumble through it to the bitter end.  I wish you all many more months of tortured reading.

 

Ticketing Tales of the Unexpected

I reported before Christmas how I had somehow missed the announcement that the Munster game tickets were on sale.  I was ready to give the benefit of the doubt to UR that they had widely publicised the sale of the tickets.

I am going to the game in Clermont and began to wonder had I missed an announcement on tickets on this game as well.   Upon phoning the Branch last Friday, I discovered it was the last day for buying them for the game.

Our party, bar me, are travelling from the Vienne department, and require 26 tickets.   Despite surveillance of the UR website it seems that the Clermont ticket sale passed both Le Paul and myself by.

The result is that there has been a hasty last minute purchase of tickets from UR.

Now I accept that UR may well have advertised the sale of tickets for both games but I simply don’t recall seeing either advertised.

After Le Paul phoned the Ulster Branch to buy the 26 tickets a notice went up saying this was last chance to buy tickets for the Clermont game.

Funny I didn’t notice that before Le Paul and myself contacted UR.

 

Tour De Clermont

My trip to Clermont is already taking on a legendary aspect with German, Dutch, English and of course the odd Ulsterman making up a party of 26 all staying in one big gite.

It’s going to be a cross between big brother house and ‘come dine with me!!’    Oh and by the way, there will be a rugby match as well!!

SUFTUM!

 

Depressing Kimmage

I received a book about cycling over Christmas, called ‘Rough Ride.’    It is recommended reading for anyone interested in cycling and somewhat depressing.

Written by former Irish pro cyclist and now journalist Paul Kimmage, the book is warts and all insight into the life of a professional cyclist riding for the continental teams.    It’s famous for exposing drug taking in cycling during the 80’s.

‘Spitting in the soup’ is what the French call Kimmage’s dissertation but  the real crux of the story seems to reside in the fact that Kimmage was an ordinary pro cyclist compared to his  Irish contemporaries Roche and Kelly who were both winners and cycling icons.

Depressingly, Kimmage insinuates that it‘s his reluctance to indulge in drug taking wholescale that resulted in him being a mere domestique to bigger riders and not the stars that were Kelly and Roche.

Kimmage conveys a somewhat embittered man, with a single focus on cycling, having lost friends through an unremitting campaign against drugs.


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