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Have you ever wondered why the Norman’s bothered to invade Ireland? Except that they were exiting Wales of course!
You know the Romans apparently landed around the Balbriggan area, had a look, and got out of Dodge pretty sharpish. You can imagine the reports back home about the trip.
Ireland?: wet, cold, windy, dark (not like Rome)
Men?: aggressive, hairy, painted blue (not like Romans )
Women?: aggressive , hairy , painted blue (definitely not like Romans )
Resources?: None, unless you count rust, muck and trench foot.
Slavery opportunities?: I wouldn’t, if I were you …
Clontarf rolled into Limerick on Saturday knowing that victory would guarantee a home semi on April 19th. That task remains a WIP after a last play 1 point defeat to a Garryowen team that wrung the maximum result out of a minimum of possession, while Clontarf were left with the minimum result despite owning the ball and territory for 90% of the game.
It’s why we love the game, I hear the pundits jabber. It’s so unpredictable and romantic!
It’s actually why I hate the game. Months of preparation undone by a skiddy ball on a slippery pitch, a messy game made messier by a sloppy, blustery day in dank Limerick.
For all of my whinging, Clontarf will take some comfort from their performance. All systems performed well. The scrum and lineout were solid. The maul was dominant. The defence was organised and the kicking game went well on both sides of the ball.
If just one critical pass had stuck early in the game, Tarf were out the gate and gone.
However, it was not to be, Garryowen took the few opportunities that fell to them, pushed their luck, and had great cause for celebration at the death despite a tough season.
Clontarf will take their home semi ambitions to Castle Avenue next weekend, where the visitors will be current League leader St Marys. It will be an unmissable occasion. Mary’s have danced through this year’s League with a fast hands / fast feet, brand of lightning quick rugby. They will meet a team with the acid motivation of recent frustration seething through their veins.
Clontarf know they are 1% away from the accuracy required to unleash a devastating power game and are 1% away from the consistency to maintain it for 80 minutes plus.
That 1% will not be found by a week of carpet chewing, wall punching, spittle flecked frenzied preparation. It will be found in cold calculating resolve.
In the opening scene of the movie Gladiator, the armoured Roman legions faced the massed Germanic tribes, with their war horns and roaring defiance for the last great battle of the Germanic campaign. We were given a spectators view of the battle preparations of a Roman legion with its exploding artillery, its massed ranks of archers and its fanatically disciplined legions of troops. As Maximus left to lead the flanking cavalry force he gave a chilly parting command.
“At my signal, unleash hell”
What a film!! What a performance!!
Paul Mescal ….. meh !
