What a game. What a crowd. What an atmosphere. Whtawhatawhatswhata. The nerves are jingling as even the subway walls are green and Dublin in November seems not that long ago.
Beep, beep i’m A sheep had become a buzz word for when we were trying to find somewhere for dinner but it became highly appropriate now as we just went with the flow, quite literally and followed the flock.
We wait for the train and stand first in line rather than push into the pack, as kiwi sheep we like our space and the plan works and we even manage to get a seat. The scrum becomes larger with each stop and just when you think it’s fill “but wait there’s more”. I am very grateful for my seat and the bit of extra space it affords in front of me.
We make it to the stadium and the atmosphere is buzzing. We can’t get into the fan zone where we planned to watch the England vs Aussie game so wander round to find our seats spreading and receiving good cheer as we go. We are very early but this is not a problem as the stadium begins to fill and the karaoke crowd begins to sing “Sweet Caroline” off the big screen ( yes Cal I wanted to call for you to hear this stunning rendition but couldn’t get reception). Our singing prowess only got better as the main event drew nearer with “the summer of 69” being a firm favourite.
we are surrounded by Irish and our neighbours are the instigators of an enormous Irish flag which we have to play a hand in unfurling across our row. We do this in good cheer but I do have to give them a stern telling off for singing through our haka. They bleet on that we have two anthems and a haka which is not fair, I tell them they sound like whinging children. Next door Lived in Dunedin for a year playing rugby so joins in our anthem, insisting We join in there chorus which is simply Ireland, Ireland. We are ready.
What a game. What a crowd. What an atmosphere.
No point saying anything else about it as you would have seen it and by now will have had hashed up and broken down into minute pieces.
I could probably go on for a very long time explaining the journey home but shall leave you only with these images for your minds.
G, D and WH playing “rugby” on the concourse with some Irish. WH got tackled, D got the ball and wasn’t letting go, the crowd gathered, the crowd roared – and then the security guards put an end to it. We shall say no more except that WH now has an aching knee and I shall not remind him of his age. Jerseys were swapped. Good RWC 2019 All Blacks jerseys for old dodgy Irish ones. Again I shall say no more. Children were lost, then found, then lost again. Trains were got on, got off and then got on again.
yet somehow we managed to all make it back to our hotel. What a game. What a crowd. What an atmosphere.
