Some of you may think this blog is just an excuse to get yet another picture of Jonny Wilkinson up. And your problem with that is…?
Last night he proved yet again that he is the greatest living Englishman. The Six Nations match between England and France was as good as it gets. Normally only Grey’s Anatomy can make me forget I am ironing sheets. Last night I could have ironed every duvet cover in the house.
It rather reminded me of the old days with Rob Andrew, Jeremy Guscott and Will Carling. I was at Durham with Carling and he is the reason I started watching rugby in the first place. I remember the excitement when he was picked for England and then became England captain. Back then of course the game was amateur and he had to combine his rugby with his studies and army career.
Football is known as the beautiful game. I think rugby can be extremely beautiful too, especially when the French play their French flair. But last night there was (thankfully) not too much French flair. “More pain-au-chocolat than panache,” said my husband.
But we saw plently of English grit and of course Jonny’s flair. It is hard to define what made the game so exciting but part of it must be that it is a sport where everyone gives their all, that is fiercely masculine and also challenging. On the rare ocassions a try is scored, it really is an event.
So I fell asleep happy; Swing Low Sweet Chariot ringing in my ears. But all the way through the match I was convinced France would win. Which just goes to show that live sport is one of the few unpredictable things left in our sanitised and ordered world. And thankfully Jonny remains predictably brilliant.
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008
I watched it too. What a great game. At halftime I thought I might go and join the French in the bar just around the corner from me. I was surprised to find that there were only about 3 people in there! Maybe they had already guessed what the final result would be…..
It was a brilliant result for England, because there’s no doubt that the French team is excellent – and we beat them.
Dearest H, As lovely and poetic your prose maybe, the reality is you get turned on looking at a bunch of very fit, some gorgeously so – it’s that shoulder to waist ratio – enthusiatic men rolling together on the ground getting dirty. I know I am with you too. Our Jonny wasn’t really looking his best with those fat, red injured lips rather comically making him look like he was in drag – I had to will into my mind that naked Jonny picture I found on the gay site that we both drooled over.
PS No I do not give my permission to print the above in The Times or The Telegraph in case you were doing another I love Jonny article. Julesritter.com
Calm down, calm down my dears..
I love rugby, as I do football, ice hockey, golf, tennis, boxing and athletics. And you’ve reduced this sport of gladiators to sexual fantasies of men with bulging thighs and shorts rolling around in the mud. Well, nothing wrong with that I suppose, but it’s not cricket is it?
Whatever happened to tactics, strategy, composure in a hostile environment? Where is the mention of fluidity, passing, running, tackles, driving force and territorial supremacy?
One pretty boy does not make a rugby team. You need fourteen cauliflower eared oafs to win the position for him.
I do understand your appreciation of the game as women, rather similar to that of the male (me), because I would never pay to watch women play a sport…. Except… er… topless mud wrestling.
I do have to defend myself here. I admit that Jonny has something special but there are many other reasons I watch the game. One of them being France’s new prop who has to be the only handsome prop ever. Vive la France I say. Although I hear he is Polish.
Was he that wet behind the ears 19 year old? You Perv Helena! jules