BOKS/ALL BLACKS' TEST MATCH

As you know I no longer have Austar (remember those fuckers?) and so I have to seek out other places to watch the Test Matches (except the ones involving Australia which are shown on terrestrial TV - wankers!).
Which means bars. Now I’m not a big drinker – in fact, I have barely contained contempt for those who imbibe as a way of life (which is pretty much all Australians. There’s a macho, beer-swilling (yet fearful of their women) mentality about these people that irritates the fuck outa me).
Anyway, bars it is.
So I go to my “local”, which isn’t really my local as I live half an hour away; my actual local is this plastic, glass and steel establishment whose atmosphere more represents an airport lounge than a bar.
Note: I love airports so it’s not like I have anything against lounges but…we’re talking bars here. Aussies, it seems, can’t do bars.
Anyway, anyway, this particular local is local to my mate’s place – a two minute walk so it’s handy. And they have satellite TV. Ergo, they would be able to show the game. You’d think, right?
Well think again – this is “footy” territory, known by it’s real term, Rugby League – game much the same as rugby, and with the same strong, muscled young blokes except with little in the way of grey matter.
Fans of such knuckleheads, (aspiring knuckleheads with no talent) who were of course, hammered, presented their case with typified class last night.
As I’ve said, it’s footy territory, and so I actually, (despite their being about 15 TVs in the place…) had to request the viewing of the rugby. Which, credit to the wee girl behind the bar (think it was more my accent than the request…), was readily granted; presumably because they too, knew there was a plethora of TVs.
That was at 5 PM.
At 530, the manageress came out (because I and my mate smoke so yes we could watch the game, but it would have to be outside in the cold…BRRRRR!!!) and started searching for the correct channel. 3 Knuckleheads had been sucking down piss (and had been for some hours judging by their state – leaning on things to prevent sway, incoherent rambling, accompanied by the odd jettisoned wayward spittle – why do they always lean in close? – and get pushed back to arms length by yours truly. It always seems to halt their flow, the slight on their piss-induced attempted camaraderie. Kinda like, "Hey man, fuckin buddy up over there"!
And they were content to watch “the ponies”; horse and single man cart racing on which people spend copious amounts of money in a vain attempt to make a fast buck. Some successful, some not so.
So, immediately after the girl started flicking, the rabble was startled from their drunken state momentarily as they voiced their disapproval of the channel being changed with a chorus of unintelligible grunts and snorts.
The natives weren’t happy.
But the wee girl, power to her, wasn’t having any of it and told them straight, someone requested it. Eventually the question was asked, “who wants the League?”
Everyone but me (hoho – a prince amongst buffoons). And my mate but he was here more for the piss and chance, however slim, of meeting a woman.
Damn.
I discovered subsequently, however, the rugby was being played on a 4 times bigger TV – the old Plasma TVs – inside and I could also see it from outside while I sucked dowm my own particular vice.
So the buffoons it seems just shot themselves in the foot (Hoho)
We went inside, thus avoiding the cold and the aforementioned incoherent but intrusive ramblings from the drunks. And chased away an aul boy (with an audible
“Hrmph”) who had been silently sitting at the plasma screen which previously had been showing footy but due to his footy mates outside, now found himself banished outside into the cold.
Anyway, I eventually go to watch the match which was between The Springboks (South Africa) and the Mighty Blacks (New Zealand), who it turned out weren’t quite mighty enough this time around.
It was a hard game with the Boks scoring two to the Mighty Blacks' one with the rest scored by the boot, finishing 30-28 to the “Boks”. Defence was the key. The importance of this emerged at the 2003 World Cup and has carried on since. It can make for a slower game, true, but we can’t tell teams not to defend – it’s an essential part of the play. The opposition will just have to try harder; it’ll make for a good hard slog, which this game was. Probably the two strongest packs in the world. It’s no wonder the poor bastard stuck in the middle looks like he’s gasping for breath – he probably is!
I wonder how the absence of Richie McCaw affected the outcome. Can’t be ignored.
Anyway, I saw it and it was good and as a bonus created a bit of a stir amongst the yokels.
Result.
Back in a fortnight to see another. The Boks play the Wallabies (Australia) next week and should pound them, notwithstanding the “Deans” factor.