h cup final cardiff may 2006

7/27/2019 H Cup Final Cardiff May 2006

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From: Simon ByrneSent: 23 May 2006 23:38To: '[email protected]'Subject: RE: Cardiff

Ok, you asked for it!I was woken at 5.30am Saturday morning by the wind and rain lashing againstthe bedroom window of Dara's house in Castleknock. Not a great start to the day,but having booked this road trip / match in January, it seemed like a good idea atthe time. We were thinking May, dry, warm sunshine etc.etc. And we're Irish??Gullible gobshites!Giddy like a schoolboy knowing he's about to pop his cherry this very day, we puton leathers, back protectors, gloves, helmets + waterproofs, clipped the top ofthe range GPS onto the bars ( top of the range me bollix, but we'll come to thatlater ), mounted the BMW R1200GS ( he was Ewen and I was Charlie ) andlegged it to Dublin Port. It was Munster Central in the car park! After boarding at7.15am, the captain came on the tannoy, announced we were all aboard and,although there was ten minutes to sailing time, he knew we were all going to thematch so we were leaving 10 minutes early - nice touch.

Sociology bit - we traveled Irish Ferries, infamous for sacking all their Irish " noway bud, can't do that, that's not my job, speak to my shop steward blah, blah.."type employees and replaced them with cheaper Eastern European workers.Well, surprise, surprise as Cilla would say, they were impeccably dressed andmannered, good looking and good humored, polite and helpful to everyone anddare I say it, but it was a pleasure to travel with them. I accept that my rose tintedspectacles may well be still on, due to outcome of the day.Met Richie McCann on the crossing and spent most of trip getting pissed on andblown all over the place while out on the deck with him, smoking to calm our horsd'oeuvres ( how can you possibly be off the fags and you going to see Munster inthe Heineken Cup Final? Never going to work. ). Also spent some timediscussing the best route to Cardiff with other travellers. Irish Ferries had givenout a map of the best route to all at check in - another nice touch. This route wasvia Chester and was using mainly motorways. It was expected to take c. 5 hours.We on the other hand, smug bastards, had a Garmin Quest GPS which is Ridemagazine recommended as it's "Best Buy" GPS. It gave us a more direct routethrough Snowdonia National Park ( I know, I know, alarm bells should have beengoing off everywhere, but hey, we were giddy with excitement ) and gave us atravel time of 3 hours 43 minutes. Naturally we reckoned (as men do) that wecould pare that back to about 3 hours. You know where this is going, don't you?We were even discussing whether to go into the stadium when it opened at1.00pm or stay in the pubs for a while first. Meanwhile, the cute hoors from Corkand Limerick were looking incredulously at our expected arrival time and shakingtheir heads silently. I suspect that as we both had Dublin accents, they assumed


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we were, in fact eh, Leinster fans who were on a day out, depriving 2 other oftheir brethren to vital tickets, while adopting Munster for the day that was in it.That assumption meant that we had a God given right to have the piss taken outof us and the best way they could achieve that was to let us off and say fuck allabout how ridiculous 3 hours to Cardiff sounded. My pristine new Toyota Munster

jersey ( Perpignan match this season ) only added to this theory of not being atrue Munster fan ( faded Bank of Ireland jerseys were de rigueur ), and indeed,if we were true Munster fans, wouldn't we have remembered from the 2002 " NeilBack you cheating bastard " final in Cardiff, that it takes 5 hours.Docked at 9.10 and on the road at 9.20. About 5 miles of motorway to start lulledus into a false sense of security. When we suddenly turned off the motorway andwent onto a B road, we both knew we were in trouble. The weather wasunbelievable - driving rain, high wind, low lying cloud with patches of fog andterrible visibility. I was glad he was driving. A few miles later and we were introuble. Think the Sally Gap with appalling C roads and surfaces, throw in water

so deep in parts of the road that we had to raise our feet off the pegs to avoidboots getting flooded, think kamikaze sheep and you begin to get the picture.Now stare at this picture for 5 hours! That's what we went through. Stressed butexhilarated at actually making it, we arrived at a park and ride depot in Cardiff tobe met with a disbelieving "you never travelled over for the match on a bike lads,no way? Park it over there beside the security hut, we'll look after it, no charge'cause that's just mad. Jesus you Irish are nuts." Finally got to our seats at2.50pm.What to say that hasn't been said already about the match? The stadium isfantastic, best I've seen. The final should be held here every year, no question

about it. We spent 5 minutes climbing stairs to take us up to about 20 rows fromthe very top. When we eventually turned around and sat in our seats, all wecould see was a sea of red. It was just incredible. I saw one group of about 500Biarritz fans at one end and about 1,500 in a different section - otherwise it wasall Munster. They gave an attendance figure of just short of 75,000 - I reckon65,000 were Munster. No time for beer as the teams were about to come on thepitch. Indeed we had one beer all day, yet it was great craic - middle age is here,imagine enjoying a day like this with no beer, what has become me?

Match starts and Bobo gets that try. Right in front of us and clearly he has put hisfoot in touch once, if not twice. No flag and incredibly no TMO referral.Subsequently found out that TMO is for grounding only and they couldn't goupstairs. Bullshit rule - watch that be changed next year. With hindsight that wasthe best thing to happen to Munster. No panic on pitch but complete terror in thestands. Noise level goes up appreciably. To describe the noise level adequatelyis beyond my ability. However the closing of the roof made it so loud that you haddifficulty talking to the person beside you, the hairs on your neck really werestanding up ( clich I know, but absolutely true ), it created an emotional cauldronand must have scared the bejaysus out of the French. It made you feel part of


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something really unique and privileged to be there. It was like some quasireligious cult gathering.Halsted scores and the stadium explodes. Stringer scores and I swear the placewas shaking like an earthquake had struck - I kid you not. Half time and it's

looking good. Met a Kerryman sitting beside us - great craic Kerryman, straightout of central casting. Made a connection being from the two forgotten countiesof Munster rugby - Kerry and Waterford. On his Sweeney Todd, red hair,nowhere to stay, funny funny guy, he was drinking the guy on his other side'sbeer, I was smoking his fags, it was that sort of day. Second half and shit, herethey come. 20-13, 20-16, 20-19, ah shit, not again, please Jesus, not again. Iknow that the team had been reciting their mantra of "it's not our destiny to win,it's not our turn, it's the best team will win blah, blah blah,.but sweet Jesus ifthere is any justice in the world, can we please win this one. Dara, the coldimpartial Leinster fan, is driving Kerryman and myself demented by continuallyshouting that the French have cracked and this game is over, Munster will win,

no doubt about it!. Obviously didn't give a shite about tempting fate.Two turning points / defining moments. Firstly, Limerick flashes up on the bigscreen as Munster are tiring. Excellent timing, give that Sky TV producer thefreedom of Munster. Crowd spots it and having been ever so slightly subdued,goes ballistic. Noise level reaches highest point yet. The team is visibly lifted, justwhen they need it. Secondly, sometime around the 70 minutes mark someone, OConnell I think, is down injured and clock is stopped. Down in front of us a groupof supporters stand up, turn around to the crowd and gesticulate to us all to standup. 75,000 people stand up in unison and the noise level reaches the highestpoint of the day - think airplane jet engines screeching. I heard afterwards

that TV commentators said they thought there was a streaker or something onthe pitch, as the game was stopped and their was no reason for the noise.Theteam look up to see what's going on and realise it's their supporters trying toraise them - they are suitably raised yet again. 75,000 people don't sit downagain that day until they reach their cars for their trips home.75,000 peoplescreaming their heads off as loud as they can, willing Munster home. Incrediblyemotional experience, another clich coming I know, but you really had to bethere to understand it, it was just that special. Stringer ends it all with that lash totouch - cue pandemonium. No other words to describe it. Well, maybe masshysteria would suffice. Noise level is superb but not as loud as ten minutes ago.Why? Well because 75,000 people find it difficult to shout and cry at the sametime. And man was there crying. Remember that Italia 90 image, set to WhitneyHuston's One moment in time", on RTE of that big old fella bawling his eyes outin some corporate hospitality tent after the Romania penalty shoot out? Well thatwas the scene all around the stadium. Grown men and women bawling their eyesout, myself included. I'm sure the psychologists would say it was some sort ofemotional release after an arduous journey blah, blah, blah. Whatever it was, itwas raw human emotion which in my book is what sport is all about. I think the


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main emotion was actually relief, relief that they had finally won while at the sametime bloody well deserving to win it.Stayed for an hour 'cause why would you want to leave this, and then started the6 hour ride back to Hollyhead (via Chester and using mainly motorways, funnily

enough). Arrived home to Greystones at 7.00am Sunday morning having spent atotal of 11 hours on the bike. For one with arthritis this was probably not a greatidea. Sure enough, I awoke on Monday morning with my right arm and handswollen like a balloon. Under no circumstances could I drive a car or work today,but today is no normal day. The whole of my workplace knew I was going toCardiff, so if I took a sickie, they all would assume I was on the piss. Thus, Iended up driving with my left hand only, in absolute agony to Belfast onbusiness, with an arm that looked like one of Murty the mascot's inflatable limbs.

And do you know what? I couldnt have cared less. It was bloody well worth it ifthat's what it took to be part of that experience! I bet Paul O Connell and DennisLeamy and all the rest of the boys were in agony too. And I bet they thought it

was worth it as well. Small price to pay.Simon

From: [email protected] [mailto:[email protected]]

Sent: 22 May 2006 12:47To: [email protected]:

I was expecting a blow by blow. Unless of course you're still composing it.

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h cup final cardiff may 2006

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