Rugby World Cup 2015

A few days after Australia beat England and knocked them out of the rugby world cup I confided in a South African guy I was having beers with.

“I sort of feel bad for them” I said. "It’s not their fault they got placed in a tough group, the pressure they got put under" etc etc.

Luckily the South African was able to set me straight with a solid point.

“Rake, no”, he said. “You shouldn’t feel bad for the English”.

It was a good point, you shouldn’t. A couple of week later I was glad I’d been set straight, after the Australia v Scotland quarter final, which turned out to be fantastic for English rugby fans. When Bernard Foley kicked the penalty and won the game for the Wallabies, they finally had a sense of purpose: to seize ownership of this great injustice and have a cross to bear for the next week and a half.

Being a Wallaby fan in London the following week went down about as well as a fart in an elevator. People would come up to me at work and carefully explain how the poor Scots had been robbed and we didn’t deserve to go through. Some of the people (I only started work a couple of weeks previously) I hadn’t even properly met yet, but they were happy to have found an Aussie so they could tell me they wanted us to get knocked out.

It was nice in a way, despite everything. It was lovely to see the English choosing to take such a leading role in sticking up for their northern neighbours, and it’s a favour that I’m sure the Scots would have gladly returned to the English if their positions had been reversed.

Even more heartwarming was that with the Wallabes facing the Pumas in the semifinal, the English and Argentines were able to finally put the Falklands behind them and unite behind a common enemy. A pub full of poms loudly cheering the sight of Maradonna pumping his fist on tv showed how much the Wallabies’ win has done to make the world a better place. Craig Joubert should get an honorary mention when they next hand out the Nobel Peace Prize.

So I was happy for the English. The thing is apart from the fact that the pedestrians here can't keep a straight line on the footpath I actually like English people a lot. They’re funny and self-effacing and generally good company most of the time.

Twickenham before the final

On the morning of the final London woke up to an absolutely cracking, sunny still day. I was going to the final with my mate Jimi, who had spent part of the morning trying to get a photo of his infant son eating kiwifruit in a wallabies outfit so he could caption it “We eat kiwis for breakfast”. It took him 45 minutes, because it turns out his son doesn’t like kiwi fruit, and was worth every second.

It was my second trip to Twickenham, and what I like about it is that you go there with your mate, but when you get off the train everyone’s there together. Not unlike British pubs in general really, but with the excitement of the rugby added in.

Jimi’s go-to bar at Twickenham is The Albany so we went there and had some beers with an English couple who had were living in Auckland but had flown back for the game. An Australian couple had flown over for the weekend. Later we met a New Zealander who managed to coincide his 50th birthday with watching his team win the world cup.

Jimi, Henry and Rake before the game

After grabbing some more beers (and a photo with Henry Speight who was wandering about outside the stadium) we found our seats and settled in for some rather low-budget pregame entertainment. It looked like a bunch of high school dancers practicing for something more important. The crowd was solidly in favour of New Zealand, especially in our area, and the excitement built up when the All Blacks lined up for the haka.

There’s not much the opposition can really do during the haka without showing disrespect or having it blow up in your face by firing up the All Blacks, but I was mildly amused by what the Wallabies chose to do. Steven Moore positioned himself in line with the middle of the ground, and everyone else spread out away to his left, with the result that the New Zealanders formed up to face straight ahead but had to look over to their right a little bit to stare them down. I’m not saying it was as good or dramatic as France in 2011, but I liked it - cheeky but not disrespectful. Better than going through some kicking drills anyway.

Wait there's something up with this...

The game went by very quickly. Within a few minutes they had a penalty after nearly scoring a try and we were on the back foot for most of the first half. We would have happily taken being down 9-3 at the half, but it was not to be. A well worked move was finished off just under our seats and the kiwis exploded.

Soon after the break Nonu went over and it was time to face the fact that we might lose this game after all. Do you ever go through some of the stages of grief when you’re watching your team lose a game you really want to win? The main step for me is bargaining – checking the clock and going through in my head the increasingly ridiculous events it would take to come back. Three tries, easy.

The first step was for Carter to miss the conversion, which he did. We told some kiwis in front of us it was going to be the turning point, drawing laughs from everyone around.

A little bit later on we started to believe it when Ben Smith took a ten minute break, and at 21-10 the game was back on. When Kuridrani scored in front of us, I’ll be honest, I thought we had them. There was nervous silence around us and we loved it. One kiwi fan, decked out in a New Zealand flag and looking as though he was particularly desperate for a win, patted me on the shoulder nervously.  It was a great couple of minutes.

Unfortunately it didn't last. Dan Carter lined up a drop goal perfectly in line with where we were, and we watched it sail sweetly through the posts. Then we thought surely he can’t hit this penalty from 50m...but yes, he could. I was back to bargaining – just two quick scores and we were going to be right back in this…

And then came acceptance. I hugged my new kiwi mate and he thanked us for a good game. They’re not all bad across the ditch. An announcement was made that the trophy would be presented followed by fireworks in All Blacks colours, which I thought would be a neat trick. Eventually Richie was given the cup to a back drop of mostly blue and gold confetti, presumably made the Highlanders contingent happy.

All Blacks Colours Are Hard

Afterwards we trudged out across the Twickenham forecourt. A small motorcade came past and we stepped aside for them, Prince Philip in the lead car slightly more than arm’s reach from where we now stood. It was hard to know for certain but I assume he was entertaining his companions with an uncomfortable joke. A couple of cars later there was Prince William, right there in front of us and giving us a hearty wave while inside the stadium his little brother shared backslaps with the All Blacks. For us, it was back to The Albany to try and move on.  

A Local Derby at Ellis Park, Johannesburg

Ellis Park Stadium with Hillbrow and Ponte Towers

As my wife and I approach Ellis Park (sorry, Emirates Airlines Park) on Saturday afternoon, a hatchback speeds towards us, away from the stadium. The car is full of rugby supporters in Lions red and Blue Bulls blue and as it approaches it slows down, the windows roll down, and a stream of throat-gargling Afrikaans pours out.  

 

I look back blankly and they try again in English.

 

“Where is the police station around here?”

 

There’s a sense of controlled urgency rather than panic, although one of the Bulls fans in the back is bent forward unnaturally.

 

“Sorry mate, we aren’t from around here”.

 

Silence. It’s their turn to stare back blankly. I feel the need to explain myself.

 

“We’re Aussies”.

 

The blank looks turn slowly to bewildered smiles – it seems finding a pair of foreigners wandering around Johannesburg’s inner suburbs is more interesting than whatever it is that needs police attention. Even the possibly injured Bulls fan turns our way.

 

“So…yeah… Sorry about that”.

 

They suddenly remember themselves and drive off quickly, glancing back at us in mild disbelief.

 

*****

Ellis Park, northwest corner

 

I don’t like to start a story about going to a game at Ellis Park by talking about security and crime in South Africa. It’s a cliché, for one, but mostly because I’m not qualified to talk about it. It does however cross your mind, especially as you walk off in the direction that a carload of rugby fans have just sped away from in search of police help, and after having read TripAdviser reviews with titles such as “Robbed at Gunpoint”. Fortunately we arrived at the stadium without further incident.

 

We’d planned well ahead for the game (except that we had no idea that the cool thing to do before a Lions game is to tailgate in the KFC carpark) and got ourselves the most expensive seats available at 130 rand. That’s around $14 Australian, and got us sitting right beside the players tunnel. Most seats were going for 40 rand, or just over four bucks. So while we in Australia wring our hands at the financial state of our rugby and assume that the superior crowds in South Africa mean that they're rolling in cash, spare a thought for how much financial power they’re actually able to translate their crowds into. A couple of beers at the game is less than $5, and I could have saved the $70 I spent on a Lions Currie Cup jersey and just bought a knock off for $8 outside the ground. No wonder they lose so many players to Europe and Japan. Anyway, I digress.

 

Ellis Park, like Newlands and I presume many South African rugby grounds, is an imposing stadium with steep sides, with ends that are almost vertical. When the game gets going the crowd of around 28,000 people feels like more than 40,000 people. Being a Brumbies fan used to watching rugby at Bruce Stadium, where 14,000 people feels like 8,000 it’s extremely impressive.  

 

The game is tight and hard fought, and has the feeling of a derby (it’s the only “real” derby in Super Rugby) with tight defense and high intensity. The Bulls fans have come out in numbers and when the crowd roars it’s not immediately evident what team has just won an advantage. Around us coarse-voiced barrages of Afrikaans are directed towards the field. I often wondered why visiting teams were apparently so intimidated by South African crowd abuse, when much of it was presumably in Afrikaans, but even with the translation you could pick up the aggression.

 



Players running out before the match

Mid-way through the second half and with the game still tight, a guy in front turned around and maneuvered his throat and phlegm into a sentence of Afrikaans. I once had a guy in Pretoria tell me that Afrikaans is not a language it’s a throat disease, and that’s pretty close to what it sounds like. He repeated himself in English.

 

“I’m sorry about our language” he said, presumably referring to his swearing rather than Afrikaans in general.

 

“Don’t worry, we don’t understand any of it anyway”.

 

As before, I felt the need to explain myself.

 

“We’re from Australia”

 

And once again, happily bewildered faces turned to us, and having turned up in Lions colours we became best friends quickly. They offered sincere congratulations on Australia’s cricket world cup win and we cheered on the last twenty minutes of the game.

 

With only a few minutes left and the game tied 15-all, the Bulls fly-half Jacques-Louis Potgieter cleared the ball downfield, only for a Lions player to make contact after the kick. After the TMO was brought in a penalty was given downfield. Whether or not the penalty was fair I don’t know, but the crowd became incensed by the obvious dramatics of Potgieter, whose apparent agony disappeared as soon as the referee blew his whistle. He then kicked the Bulls in front, having made a full and unsurprising recovery.

 

With a minute and a half left it looked like curtains for the Lions. The rain from earlier in the game had returned, and having scored only six tries in nearly 640 minutes of rugby this season the last seconds of the game came as a bit of a surprise. The Lions quickly kicked off, regathered the ball and having turned down a chance to tie the game with a penalty scored a try through the reserve hooker, Armand van der Merwe. What a great South African name. For some reason he’s also called Akker van der Merwe. Oh Afrikaaners, don't ever change. I should also mention his nickname is "The Angry Warthog".

 

Naturally the red portion of the stadium erupted with hugs all round as we celebrated with the real Lions fans their win over their northern rivals.

 



My new best friend, wearing a garbage bag

We hadn’t organized any transport home from the game (my fault) so we headed out looking for a taxi. Not immediately finding one we asked a policeman which direction would give us the best chance, and he told us to wait on the street corner as he’d get someone to take us. Assuming one of his mates was a cab driver we waited in the rain, until eventually a police car turned up with two young cops.

 

We finished our night riding across town in the back of the squad car, lights flashing and sirens blaring.

 

Match days in Johannesburg, it seems, are a lot different to match days in Canberra.

Something Something Grand Final

In 1997 I saw my first AFL game, seeing Essendon beat Richmond in front of nearly 60,000 people at the MCG. As I sat there in the Southern Stand with my dad and sister in the Melbourne sunshine I knew I wanted to see more of it. When we got back to Canberra I'd decided I wanted to see the biggest game of all, the AFL Grand Final, no matter who was playing. So, 15 year-old me rang Ticketek.

"Can I help you?"

"I'd like a ticket to the AFL Grand Final please."

"Excuse me?"

"The AFL Grand Final. How much are tickets?"

There was a pause while the operator maneuvered her thoughts, like a kindly nurse breaking bad news to a slow child, and explained why that was impossible. Tickets were supplied to the participating teams, members of the MCC, AFL members, sponsors etc etc. Basically there was going to be a party. A really good one, it's just that you aren't invited. Sorry.

I was defeated, but the dream wasn't over: one day I'd sit in the crowd on that big day.

Over the next 17 years the Grand Finals came and went, until this year. In July my wife (bless her) just booked flights and refundable accommodation, and of course the Swans won their Preliminary Final. It was all set.

Except for the tickets, which were always going to be an issue. Because we knew we'd be away for much of the year and would only be able to see a few games, we got the Bronze 3-game memberships. This meant we had no chance at all of getting a ticket through the Swans ballot, although we tried that process anyway.

And failed.

A work colleague, being from Sydney and knowing little about the AFL (or much else, incidently - this is a guy who swore that Justin Bieber was discovered by John Lennon) couldn't understand why it was so difficult. After all, he'd gone to the NRL Grand Final the year before without any trouble at all. I explained that compared to the AFL grand final, the NRL equivalent has the draw of a high school cross country carnival. I don't mean that in a snooty, looking down my nose way - I'm as much a fan of Rugby Union as AFL, so I can't exactly poke fun at a sport for attracting no attention.

As Facebook lit up with posts along the lines of "Anyone a member of the MCG and not using their GF ticket? Puh-leeease can I have it??" we knew that we'd have to be resourceful. A friend in need is a friend indeed, but a friend in need of a Grand Final ticket is a pest. So I became a pest, and called on some help.

Help arrived in the form of well-connected friends, and through their help and the liberation of many, many dollars we had two tickets to not only the Grand Final, but a fancy lunch function hosted by the Melbourne Football Club.

We arrived in Melbourne Friday evening and went straight to our accommodation in South Yarra. Feeling like a drink and a walk to see what the atmosphere was like we headed off along Toorak Road. Sarah, wondering where all the people were, asked if we were going the right way. "No worries", I said, trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about (I had lived in Melbourne for 7 years, albeit on the other side of town). "Chapel Street is where it's at. Just you see."

South Yarra Going All Out Decorating For the Game

And then we turned the corner onto Chapel St. Tumbleweed rolled by, accompanied by the sound of crickets. I'm not sure where the crowds were, but we eventually came across an Irish pub happy to charge us more than $10 for a schooner. Isn't Sydney supposed to have the Cost of Living Allowance? Never mind - we weren't here for a Friday night in Melbourne, we were here for the Grand Final.

Grand Final Day 2014

We stepped out of our hotel at around 9:00am, to get our tickets before meeting up with my mate Pilko in Richmond. Our hotel wasn't given enough respect by the cabbies to have a taxi rank (to be fair, it felt more like a halfway house than somewhere you would choose to stay, although it was easily the most affordable option). So we walked around the corner where there were cabs lining up outside the Como, just in time to see half the Swans players exit the building and head up Chapel St. It looked exactly like they were going to stroll up to the MCG on foot, which may explain their later performance.

Swans Players Starting Trek to MCG. (Last time many of them were seen all day)

At 9:30am - five full hours before the game - the MCG is lightly buzzing. Fans in both colours are mixing in the sunshine, people are selling Footy Records as thick as phone directories, and picking up tickets. We picked up our ticket pack despite it being initially lost and headed to Richmond. 

It wouldn't have been brekky with Pilko without him coming up with lines like "these new pyramid tea bags are great and all, but can you make a tea bag rocket out of them?" Really makes you think. Pilko goes to the Grand Final pretty much every year with his brothers. Must be great being an MCC member!

We walked back to the MCG through throngs of young guys drinking beer. One group sang Tigerland, supporting the theory that Richmond fans support their team no matter the circumstances. Near the ground Hawthorn's club song was being played by a girl on bagpipes as well as over speakers, except completely out of sync with each other.

Feeling quite supercilious we made our way to the Hans Ebling Room in the Ponsford Stand, where our function was to be held, and settled down with a glass of bubbles. There were plenty of corporate guests in the room but we were seated with a very nice group of Hawthorn and Melbourne fans, mostly related.

Until 1:30 we were fed and listen to gusts Taylor Walker from the Crows, who spoke pretty candidly on the coaching issues in Adelaide, and Stevie J from Geelong, who talks about sledging among other things. All the while the sound coming from the ground increases slowly with the growing crowd, and for the first time you aware of the gravity of the event.

Stevie J

We were then shown to our seats, lest we miss out on Ed Sheeren and Tom Jones, who I thought were both serviceable (but what would I know?). Olivia Newton-John sang the national anthem while I looked around, soaking up the atmosphere. It's a cliche to say the atmosphere was indescribable, but it was so I'll just say it was amazing and was something I'll always remember.

Swans Still In The Game At This Stage (Photo Courtesy L. Rees)

From the opening bounce the Swans had the slight edge for what must have been all of 8-10 minutes, and led two goals to one. It was a great 10 minutes. Then it was Hawthorn's turn to have the run of play, but selfishly didn't hand back the momentum until the final siren. At quarter time, down 35-15, there was already a sense of desperation, which by midway through the second quarter had turned into resignation. Which in a way was merciful - if you're going to lose at least you can relax and enjoy the occasion, and we did.

I don't really have feelings one way or another for Hawthorn. I can't understand why anyone would willingly choose a team that wears brown and yellow if they didn't need to, but they were not smug in victory and I was happy for them, or at least not resentful of their win.

Ignore The Scoreboard!

We watched the players celebrate with each other and their families, and then the formalities before having a final complimentary drink in the back room. I had been approaching the day as though it would be my one and only Grand Final day, and I felt pretty satisfied with having been there, despite the result. It's just a shame my one Grand Final would be one where only one team showed up.

A Weekend in Enemy Territory

When the ACT Brumbies came from behind to win their semi final against the Bulls in Pretoria, in the excitement and shock of the result was only a passing realisation that we were going to be in the Super 15 final the following week. Mostly, the initial reaction consisted of consideration of what an epic and unprecedented victory it was, making it possibly the Brumbies' greatest ever win and perhaps the most history-defying of any in Super Rugby.

It's not to say that I had written the game off as lost or didn't believe we had a good team, just that it's only wise to be realistic about these things. The previous week I'd sat in the sub-arctic conditions of Canberra Stadium watching them only just sneak through against the Cheetahs, and no team had beaten the Bulls in the altitude of Loftus Versfeld all year, and never since the dawn of time in a finals game.

So it was probably a couple of hours after I'd watched Tevita Kuridrani's match-winning try (go to 7 minutes into this video) that it really dawned on me that the Brumbies would be playing in Hamilton to decide the title, and that I had to be there. Luckily my wife loves adventures as much as I do, and was on board straight away. A few frequent flyer points later and we had flights across the ditch.

The week leading up to the final was a bit chaotic. The agents organising the Brumbies travel packages took longer than expected to contact us about the specific information, making it difficult to make plans. On the Tuesday I was quoted on the front page of the Waikato Times after being dobbed in by Sarah as a representative Brumby travelling for the game.

Sarah in Her New Jersey

After being told the Brumbies packages were for accommodation in Auckland and not Hamilton as we'd hoped, we decided we'd go out on a limb and try to get tickets ourselves instead of through the Brumbies. Our thinking was that if we were going to fly to New Zealand for a game, we wanted to get the full experience with the fans. Who knew if anyone in Auckland even cared? If we won, who then would want to get in a bus and take the 1.5 hour trip to some hotel in Auckland? And worse, if we lost who would want to sit and stew with understandably disappointed fans?

So, on Wednesday I was again quoted, this time making disparaging comments about Auckland, which I'm sure the good people of Hamilton ate up happily.

You Need To Be Prepared...

Eventually we got our hands on tickets and could start to relax and prepare for the trip. I'd always wanted to see what it's like being the fan of an away team in rugby. I'd once gone along to a NY Rangers ice hockey game in Montreal colours, which I'd thought wouldn't be too bad. I'd forgotten that if there's anything worse to an American ice hockey fan than being Canadian, it was being FRENCH Canadian. Fortunately for our safety the Rangers won comfortably, and apart from being yelled abuse and threatened in the men's room we got off without any damage.

Kiwi rugby fans took a massive blow to their reputation at the 2011 World Cup from their abuse of Wallaby fans, and while I haven't seen anything too bad at the Bledisloe Tests I'd seen in Australia, I'm aware how little humour they can have about it. Mostly though I was looking forward to seeing how the Waikato fans would treat us. Realistically, the worst possibility we could expect was to get verbal abuse, which I knew we could handle.

Flying into Auckland in my Brumbies jersey I was beside myself with excitement, although as expected no one there seemed too passionate about it. As it turned out the next day we were told that most of them actually wanted us to win just to stop their neighbour winning the title, but all I got was the immigration official and the bus driver to Hamilton asking if we were there for the game. Still, the anticipation grew on the bus ride into town, seeing the stadium lights and seeing the Chiefs posters and flags.

First task - fly the Brumbies colours on the main street of town by hanging the scarf from the hotel window. A small but symbolic gesture.

Minor Contribution to Brumbies Presence in Hamilton

We spent the time during the day walking the streets, at one point buying blue, yellow and white face paint, nail polish (for Sarah), and a wig. Occasionally we would run into Brumby fans and wave, or get some friendly heckling from a local. At lunch in Hood St, where the town was getting set up for the post game party, we were interviewed for the nightly news, who were fascinated by an American girl being in town for the game.

After Interview With the Waikato News Team

By late afternoon the game preparation got serious with a trip to The Helm, the pub organised as a Brumbies meeting place. On arrival it was clear that there were several hundred Brumby fans in town, all in the one spot, and we enjoyed a couple of beers in the only friendly territory we had all weekend. After a while injured players filed in and I had some photos taken with Wallabies David Pocock and Pat McCabe, who was just about the friendliest guy you could hope to meet.

Keen to get to the stadium we headed off about an hour and a half before the game. Stopping at one point to have a photo taken in front of the stadium, one fan yelled gruffly "You won't be smiling later!"

Entering the stadium grounds we found ourselves literally the only away fans out of hundreds of early arrivals, with the vast majority of Brumbies fans receiving tickets on the opposite side of the ground. Life was about to get interesting. While Sarah went to the bathroom, I noticed a room under the stands with people having a few pregame drinks, and when Sarah emerged we went to investigate, only to find that it was the Waikato Rugby Supporters Club. Thinking surely we wouldn't be welcome in there we had a quick look through the window before heading off, only to find a table of Chiefs fans waving us in. Heading to the door, they'd told security to allow us in, and we signed in the book our names and home town.

The Waikato Rugby Supporters Club

"SYDNEY?!?!" They cried, not quite believing we'd come that far. We went and bought a couple of $7 longnecks and sat ourselves at their table, where they made us feel a lot more welcome than I'd expected at the game.

Tucked under the eastern stand and with walls adorned with the usual memorabilia and plaques of a local rugby club, the room housed fans of the local Waikato team in the local competition as well as the Super 15 side. We bought tickets to the raffles, had our photos taken and were presented with their club pin, with their mascot Moo-Loo (a rugby playing cow).

Taking our seat before the game we found ourselves seated in between very chatty Chiefs fans. You could tell the feeling was they were pretty confident of the result, but they seemed to respect that we had come over anyway and so were courteous. This was good, because apart from the three Brumby fans a few rows in front of us and a couple more up in the back of the stand, we were all alone.

As the game started and we built ourselves a nice little lead, I jumped up with every score and was congratulated by those around me (although I think I got told at one point to sit down by someone a few seats away). When we scored our try though, I started to quiet down. Suddenly there was a prospect of winning the game, and I knew I'd sit through the rest of the match just tense and hoping for it to be over, with the points in our favour.

Pregame Entertainment Was Actually Kind Of Impressive

At half time I made a pit stop in the gents room. One guy eyeballed me on his way out, and said "gee, brave man", but that was about the worst I got all weekend.

The second half started well but it became obvious when the Chiefs parked themselves on our line around the 65th minute that we were holding on by the tips of our fingers. The travel started to catch up with us, and suddenly the Chiefs were up. To their credit, the Brumbies didn't give up, attacking up to the last minute, but clearly making fatigue-based errors, and we stood and saluted the Chiefs as worthy winners.

You have to hand it to the local fans. Without exception they congratulated us on our team and admitted they were shaken for a while. The lady next to me asked for my hat, and I was happy to give it to her. In return she gave me her son's Waikato jersey for their local team. I only found out later her son must be about 7 years old, so it was not much use to me, but the gesture was nice.  In the Waikato supporters room we swapped scarves with their fans, and they gave us so much Chiefs gear we don't know what to do with it all.

Our Chiefs Loot Given To Us After the Game...Fingerless Gloves Anyone?

We spent the next couple of hours with their fans, enjoying the atmosphere and allowing their good company to soothe the pain of defeat. It reminded me why I love rugby. Like the Lions Tour showed, it has a way of bringing opposition teams together with respect and sportsmanship that other sports don't have. As one of the club members said before the game, it didn't matter who won the game, it's just great being around people who love rugby. Even though we unfortunately didn't get to see what they would be like if we'd won, they definitely deserve the benefit of the doubt.

We finished up with a quick trip down to Hood St to see the festivities, but it was a very young crowd and we didn't stay long. A couple of groups of young guys heckled us on our way home, but they were just being loud for their mates, and interestingly they did so while always maintaining as large a radius as the footpath would allow.

It hurts having lost the game, even if it was honourably, maybe more so now that I've been able to reflect on how close it was, the try that wasn't allowed because of lack of evidence and what could have been. On the other hand, there are worse things than coming a close second and getting to meet great people we otherwise never would have known. After all, we could be Waratahs fans.

A Wallaby Fan's British and Irish Lions Tour Diary

A Tour Diary for the British and Irish Lions Tour:

The Lions came to Australia for a 10 game tour, 7 warm-up games and 3 Tests against the Wallabies. The Lions come to the southern hemisphere every four years, alternating between Australia, New zealand and South Africa, meaning that the last time they were here was in 2001, and after this they won't be back until 2025. For rugby fans across the world its kind of a big deal.

A couple of weeks before the tour I'd had a couple of beers with a friend and ex-rugby player who declared sadly that the Lions were going to smash the Wallabies. "Rugby" he said, "is a boutique sport in Australia".  His argument was that no-one watches it and no-one plays it and yet we think we should have a great national team. Somehow we demand that even though we don't care about whatever the Super 15 is or what a tight head prop actually does, on the couple of times our national team plays we should beat everyone. Every time.

So going into the tour, my confidence for a win in the three test series was about 3 out of 10.

Game 1: British and Irish Lions v Barbarians, Hong Kong, June 1

I watched this with a friend from Canberra and some friends from Melbourne in a bar in Surry Hills. The Victorians clearly had only polite interest in the game and preferred to wallow in the loss their AFL team had sustained that night against the Swans. At one stage the Canberran, who should have known better, explained to them that the Barbarians were a Maori representative team. It was a perfect moment to sum up the state of Australian rugby. The majority of those present didn't care, and the one guy who lived in a town which has some rugby presence didn't know anything anyway.

I didn't like this game. After having my hopes for beating the Lions destroyed by my friend in Queensland the last thing I wanted to see was the Lions scoring try after try against a bunch of has-beens to get their eye in. That is exactly what happened, and the Lions ran out winners by a score I don't care to repeat.

Hard to gather much from a game like that, but the signs were not good. Confidence down to 2 out of 10.

Game 2: Western Force v BIL, Paterson's Stadium, Perth, June 5

Sometimes as fans it's obvious who's going to win a game. Clearly the Force coach Michael Foley also knew he wasn't going to win this match, and so instead of at least making a game of it and testing out the tourists he put up the white flag the day before by saving his first team for the utterly meaningless Super 15 clash four days later with the Waratahs.

The Force made less of an impact by playing rugby (losing 69-17) than they did in accusing Irish prop Cian Healy of biting Force scrumhalf Brett Sheehan. Replays indicated it was likely that Sheehan forgot that thrusting his own forearm into Healy's mouth at the breakdown did not constitute a bight, and Healy was let off (although he sustained an ankle injury, and as luck would have it unable to take further part in the tour).

The winner of the subsequent Super 15 game will be forgotten soon enough, seeing as both sides are of varying levels of hopelessness and not within reach of the finals. But well done anyway Foley, the Force will get another crack at the Lions in 2025. Oh, and you lost to the Waratahs after all that anyway. Shame.

Confidence confirmed at 2 out of 10.

Game 3: Queensland Reds v BIL, Lang Park, Brisbane, June 8

As a Brumbies fan its hard to begrudge Queensland's success in the last few years, having been built on quality rugby and a culture of playing for the good of the team. They have great supporters and games at Suncorp are a great occasion. In all these ways, they are the opposite of the NSW Waratahs.

Being the first game the Lions had to play a team resembling a professional outfit, this game had some anticipation from both sides. Even though Queensland had several players on national duty, there were still plenty of ex-Wallabies left in the side, including fly-half Quade Cooper.

I've seen Quade win the Super 15 title with Queensland with his amazing runs and passes. He can be one of the greatest playmakers in the game at times. I've also seen him soil his pants and kick the ball out on the full under zero pressure, pass the ball to no-one in particular and at times he looks as likely to lay a tackle as I am.

In the end he showed both sides of his play and the Reds produced a strong result, losing 22-12 in a match which showed that the Lions could perhaps be beaten, and earned the respect that the Force gave up by effectively forfeiting their game.  There was hope. Confidence up to 3.5 out of 10.

Game 4: Combined Country XV v BIL, Hunter Stadium, Newcastle, June 11

I must admit, I paid little attention to this game. Did the ARU organise this game to try to make up for last year's Test in Newcastle? Possibly the worst rugby game in history, played in the driving rain, and one that we LOST TO SCOTLAND? Well I dare say they still have some making up to do - even my kiwi friend in Newcastle wouldn't go to the rugby again after that.

Anyway where were we? Right, Newcastle. The Lions beat the assortment of tradesmen, medical students and removalists 64-0, although the British punters still somehow manage to write about it like it was a loss. According to every report I've found on the match, Leigh Halfpenny actually missed a kick at goal for the first time of the tour.

Game 5: NSW Waratahs v BIL, Sydney Football Stadium, June 15

If there is a sports team, professional or otherwise, as worthy of contempt as the Waratahs I don't want to know them. They are a team that insists they are the heart and soul of Australian rugby, and yet anyone who has been to a game of theirs knows they have neither heart nor soul. In the 18 seasons of Super Rugby they have achieved fleeting moments of dubious relevance, all the while happily providing a destination for players who want to get treated like rock stars and play like spoilt children who are only playing because their dad said they had to. Still, as I heard one past player say before this game "For Australian rugby to be successful we need the Waratahs to do well". No wonder the Wallabies are so awful.

As someone who lives in Sydney (even if only for just over a year), I can honestly say I've only ever met two people who claimed to be Waratahs fans, and one of them was a poor misguided bloke from Tasmania.

The night of this game I was spared actually going because of a family dinner in Coogee. As the taxi drove past the throngs of fans heading to the SFS, there was only one guy wearing any NSW baby blue clothing. Thousands and thousands of people in red, a few people in neutral, and one guy in blue. Great supporters.

To the Waratahs' credit they played a full-strength Lions team, essentially their side for the first test the following week. Still, they got hammered 47-17 and the Lions were setting their sights on backing up Brian O'Driscoll's call for an undefeated trip.

Confidence at 3 out of 10.

Game 6: ACT Brumbies v BIL, Canberra Stadium, June 18

OK full disclosure, I'm a big Brumbies fan, so this section will go on. Feel free to skip.

A few things went our way for this game. Being four days from the first test match the Lions sent out a largely second string Lions team, with one player flown in from Japan just for the game. Their captain and hooker, Irishman Rory Best, had a shocker.

On the other hand, the Brumbies were without no less than 12 of their best players to injury and Wallabies camp, needing to fill bench spots with some blokes from local amateur rugby. Oh and they're still the Lions, with four Test playing nations to choose from, and this particular team had a combined 580 Test appearances between them. The Brumbies only had two guys who had played Test rugby; Clyde Rathbone who last played for Australia 4 years ago, Peter Kimlin who played two games a couple of years ago.

So, expecting to lose, the game became more about the atmosphere and the occasion than the game itself. Dad and I decided to try out a bar in Canberra's inner north before the game, and were immediately swarmed by fans in red giving out a bit of friendly banter, and revealing a lack of confidence for the game. Of course, I thought we were some chance, but I played it down because it's always wise to encourage the underdog status, and at the end of the day an under-strength club side should always lose against an under-strength British and Irish Lions team.

After a few beers, the shuttle that was to take us to Canberra Stadium arrived, and the driver managed to turn the 10 minute drive into a full hour by going the wrong way and getting stuck in traffic. We eventually arrived just in time to miss seeing the Brumbies score a try as Tevita Kuridani grabbed one defender and evaded a second defender by throwing the first one at him, but at the time we were just astounded to have arrived to a 5-0 lead.

Now with the visions of an unlikely win somehow in front of me, suddenly a game I'd only come to for interest's sake became all I wanted in the world. I can get really annoying during games like this. The game petered out into penalties and dad pointing out the live scores of the soccer World Cup qualifier, and I kept trying to come up with a polite way of telling him I didn't care as I willed the minutes to go by. Like I said, I get annoying.

Finally, the game was over, the Brumbies had won for the first provincial win over the Lions since 1997. I think I hugged the guy behind me, and as we headed to the buses to head back to the pub, our friends from earlier graciously greeted us with cheers and hugs all round.

Beers ensued. Confidence up to 4.5 out of 10.

Game 7: First Test, Australia v BIL, Lang Park, Brisbane, June 22

Being a Wallabies fan is a tough job. Disappointment is an occupational hazard, and you get outdone by foreign fans at the best of times, let alone against a team like the Lions, which has a following which is unparalleled. Unlike All Black fans, who seem to have a chip on their shoulder and usually give you at best thinly-veiled abuse, the Lions fans just enjoy the game and hope you do too.

Which is lucky, because turning up to the Light Brigade pub in Sydney's inner east, and needing to queue at 7pm to get in, I found one other guy in yellow. Chants were already starting for the Lions, and it was me, that  guy at the back and a guy in a Deftones t-shirt who didn't realise a game was on supporting the Wallabies.

I found my group of Lions fans, and they asked where the Wallabies fans were. I told them they had all three of us here with them, and they laughed and carried on regardless. When a kiwi finds out how little regard rugby has in Australia, you see the disappointment that their continuing triumphs over here don't actually upset us that much. These guys just saw their advantage and chanted more loudly, but they seemed to also feel a bit sorry for me.

This was a cracking game, with two great tries each. Following more missed kicks from the Wallabies than you'd think possible, the game was decided in the Lions' favour 23-21 when Kurtley Beale missed another kick, this time after the siren. Or more accurately, as Lions coach Warren Gatland helpfully pointed out later, it was decided by Beale's choice of footwear. As the pub's lightning rod for the Lions fans sentiments I was approached by several who claimed, generously, that we should have won, which I appreciated.

Game 8: Melbourne Rebels v BIL, AAMI Park, Melbourne, June 25

Not expecting much from the game I headed up to the local to watch over a quiet beer. Unsurprisingly, it was a little calmer than Saturday night and I watched with a bloke from Bath who had just arrived with his daughter and was about to join the tour. He pointed out that he'd opened the papers expecting to find major coverage of the tour, only to find pages and pages on NRL and AFL, with a little bit on the Lions further in.

I told him if he was surprised about the coverage here in Sydney he should wait until he gets to Melbourne.

The Rebels were completely outclassed 35-0 by the Lions, who rubbed salt into the Wallabies wounds at the same time by having their 3rd string kicker land conversions from all over the park. Maybe kicking could be something we need to work on?

Game 9: Second Test, Australia v BIL, Docklands Stadium, Melbourne, June 29

Back at the Light Brigade, there had been a major boost in the number of Wallabies fans, up to 5 or 6 from the previous week's 3. A couple of times courageous but ultimately lame chants of Woll-Uh-Beeees! Woll-Uh-Beees! went up but they died very quick, red-faced deaths.

As well as the Wallaby fans were some friends up from Melbourne, who had no idea that this was happening in their city, but were at least impressed by the carrying on of the Lions fans. Unfortunately the game was not a great advertisement for rugby in the sport's Australian frontiers, with a series of penalties and scrums followed by a late try giving the Wallabies the win, 16-15. The only moment of interest was when George North overcame an Israel Folau tackle by just lifting him up and running with him on his back.

Once again, the Lions fans came around to tell me we deserved the win, which was clearly not true but they seemed to believe it so I didn't take it as patronising. I even found the second Waratahs fan I'd ever met.

The game may not have been entertaining but the result was exactly what the tour needed, and set up a great week looking forward to the decider in Sydney. My confidence for the series win was about as high as confidence ever gets with the Wallabies - around a 6 out of 10.

Game 10: Third Test, Australia v BIL, Olympic Stadium, Sydney, July 6

When tickets became available for this game I was in a meeting at work, stupidly thinking that I'd be able to jump on and grab some afterwards. Wrong. With every rugby fan from the old countries trying to get to the game, the only option I had was when I got offered a pair of tickets for several hundred dollars each. There's not much that would make me think about spending that kind of money for, but for this game I thought about it. A lot. In the end though I decided to hold off and watch with some friends in Canberra's Kingston Hotel.

While this made the crowd more Wallaby-friendly, there was only one Lion fan, and the atmosphere was pretty lame, with most people watching either Geelong-Hawthorn in the AFL or some NRL game.

There's no worse loss in sports than the one which brings you back to reality. I didn't necessarily think we'd win this game, but I thought we'd at least make it competitive. Not much could have gone worse in the first half. Genia started by knocking on with the first play, allowing the Lions to score a try within two minutes. George Smith took a head knock and came off. Ben Alexander was given a yellow card. Israel Folau went off injured. At one point we managed to get down 19-3.

After clawing back the massive deficit in the first half and getting within 3 points early in the second half, everything fell apart. Again. The Lions scored 3 more tries to crush the Wallabies 41-16, and like many times before it was a little bit embarrassing to be wearing yellow and to have thought we were a chance. I approached the sole Lions fan with 10 minutes left, shook his hand and congratulated him.

Looking back, the first test and Beale's slip ultimately decided the series, but the Lions would have been robbed had that happened. As the television previews to the upcoming Ashes series discuss how we need to get one back on the "Poms" after they beat us at rugby, I figure we didn't deserve it as fans either. At least until we know who it is we are actually playing.