- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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It has now improved a bit but it required Steff Evans’ knee to be sacrificed to achieve it. Poor lad - looked rough.
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Jun 2, 2018 22:45
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May 10, 2024 15:55
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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Why don't they just do that as the Edinburgh home fixture?
This is definitely the right approach and it’s really weird if the SRU aren’t doing it.
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Jun 4, 2018 22:46
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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An incredible player, and seems like a thoroughly decent person. I'm sure he has a lot of good work ahead of him.
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Jul 18, 2018 15:44
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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Well, looks like Cipriani's hosed up Glorious International Return No. 7: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-gloucestershire-45201916
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Aug 15, 2018 18:42
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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loving hell Freddie Burns, what is wrong with you
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Oct 13, 2018 23:24
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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Call out all the lovely calls no matter what the team. But right now, focus on Farrell, who got away with being a dirty gently caress for the fiftieth time and will therefore never stop being a gently caress until he and his loving rape eyes slither into a retirement of commentating for ITV.
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Nov 3, 2018 23:53
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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loving hell this is the worst thing
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Feb 1, 2019 21:47
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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Scotland just their own worst enemies this match. Could have been so different if they’d got a grip
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Feb 9, 2019 17:08
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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That's almost performance art.
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Feb 18, 2019 16:48
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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Lovely well-deserved try but that last pass was definitely forward
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Feb 24, 2019 16:37
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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For anyone who has access to BBC iPlayer, the documentary on Sam Warburton is a very pleasant watch, and he comes across as a really decent person.
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Mar 4, 2019 12:32
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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And now the Ospreys have just put out a statement saying that:
The Ospreys posted:
The Ospreys are NOT on the verge of merging with the Scarlets.
Like the other M4 regions, the Ospreys were informed by the WRU that their decision was to create a new region in the North and this would necessitate one going in the South.
Beyond this, the regions have been encouraged to enter unilateral discussions to try and self-broker an outcome. Rather than every option being on the table, only one has transpired - which region should go.
Far from being a methodical, consultative process, involving all the game’s stakeholders, looking at the greater good and the long-term benefit to all, the South Wales regions have been forced into a leaderless race for survival, with self-interest as its guiding star.
The Ospreys are not afraid to think the unthinkable. Our region was born out of the previously unimaginable merger of Swansea and Neath and, later, the seamless integration of Bridgend. We remain the only region to have truly embraced, lived and breathed the concept of regional rugby. Our reward and Wales’s reward, has been an unparalleled level of success for our region and an unrivalled contribution to the national team.
We fully recognise the WRU’s argument that the regional game requires further restructuring in order to remain viable and we support this principle.
But, the way this has been approached has led to a fundamental breakdown in the fabric of the game. This must stop now. A new process must be expedited, with respected and competent leadership - professionally outlined and responsibly led - with transparency and genuine consultation as its foundation.
It all asks the age-old question: what the gently caress is going on in South Wales?
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Mar 5, 2019 18:13
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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I don’t know how to feel about the fact that although as a wales fan I’m pessimistic about Saturday, it appears that the Scotland fan I’m watching the match with is, if anything, more determined that his team is going to lose.
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Mar 7, 2019 23:21
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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I’m just glad they’re not going to get nilled at this point
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Mar 16, 2019 18:59
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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I think it’s probably worth already assuming that the Namibia entry is just a link to Squidge’s video on then
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Jun 9, 2019 22:47
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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God, I wish. I am travelling to watch one match though: a friend is getting married in Madrid so I’ll be watching Wales v Australia in an Irish bar there!
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Jun 27, 2019 18:56
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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Good old Scotland, giving France hope by letting them score a try in the first 90 seconds
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Aug 17, 2019 20:13
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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The pitch is slightly scaring me - looks ripe for a knee-ruining injury
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Aug 17, 2019 20:57
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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God, being a professional rugby player sounds bloody miserable at times. This comes from the latest segment of Sam Warburton's autobiography, of which Wales Online are publishing excerpts. This is from the night before the second Lions test in New Zealand:
Sam Warburton posted:
Can’t sleep. The witching hour. The darkness comes flooding in, and it’s all I can do to stop it drowning me.
Everything hurts. My body, my mind, my heart. Everything.
I’m a wreck.
It’s easier to list the parts of me that aren’t in pain. My eyelashes. That’s pretty much it.
I’ve had more than 20 injuries over my career. Before I go out to play these days, I have to neck pain tablets while the physios strap me up like an Egyptian mummy. I have to stand there butt naked in front of them, cupping my twig and berries, while they bind my knees, my ankles, my shoulders and my elbows.
It’s not just tonight. It’s the relentless grind: week on week, month on month, year on year. Smash and be smashed. Try to recover. Smash and be smashed again.
The equivalent of strapping myself into a car like a crash test dummy and driving it at a wall every weekend.
I get out of bed. Shards of pain as my feet touch the floor. I push myself slowly upright, gritting my teeth as the aches flare and settle.
If my body’s only at around 70 per cent fitness, my mind feels around half that. I’m exhausted, but also wired: antsy, yet craving rest. Yes, these are the small hours when everything seems worse, but even in broad daylight the doubts and questions are never far away.
Sam Warburton shouldn’t be captain.
Sam Warburton shouldn’t be playing.
Sam Warburton’s past it.
What I know is that there are plenty of people out there who think that.
What I fear is that they might be right.
I take one step, gingerly, then another, and another. Walking – hobbling, more like – across the carpet over to the window.
I pull back the curtains and look out. Below me is the Wellington waterfront. It’s quiet and empty, but earlier this evening it was packed, as it will be tomorrow night.
Many will be wearing red rugby shirts and will have saved up for years to come all the way across the world just to watch us play.
I’ve played in some big games, but nothing that comes remotely close to this. It should be the highlight of my career. It feels like anything but.
This is a sport that’s been the biggest part of me for almost two decades, that has largely defined me. It’s a game I love. Rather, it’s a game I thought I loved. Right now, I hate it.
I want to be one of those fans, on the booze and singing their hearts out, with no problem more pressing than who gets the next round in. Instead, I’m here, torturing myself with questions to which I have no answer.
Why? Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I putting myself through all this pain, all this pressure, when I could be doing something – anything – else?
Why am I in a job which right now I detest?
Round and round and round. Physical stress, mental stress and emotional stress, all working on and off each other.
Two in the morning, and no-one to talk to.
I need to talk to someone. There are several people I could call, but there’s only one person I know will really understand.
I dial her number.
‘Sam?’ Her voice is full of concern. It’s lunchtime back home in Cardiff. She knows what time it is where I am, and that I wouldn’t be phoning for no reason.
‘I’ve had enough, Mum.’ My throat is tight with the effort of not bursting into tears. ‘I really have. I’m just going to go.’
‘Go where?’
‘To the airport. Do a bunk. Leave all my kit here, get on the first plane home. I’ll be in the air before they realise I’ve gone.’
I didn’t, of course. Can you imagine the headlines?
LIONS CAPTAIN DOES MIDNIGHT FLIT.
WARBURTON QUITS.
THE RUNAWAY SKIPPER.
And no-one knew, apart from my mum. She talked me down: told me that I didn’t owe anything to anyone, so all I had to do was get through this week and the next and then the series would be over and I could do what I wanted.
She was right, of course. She knew the way love for, and hatred of, rugby oscillated within me, because they did for her too. She loved what the game had given me and the pleasure I’d got from it, but she hated seeing me beaten up, or under the knife, or criticised.
No one knew, apart from my mum.
Poor Sam. I hope he's happier now 
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Sep 11, 2019 20:18
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May 10, 2024 15:55
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- fallingdownjoe
- Mar 16, 2007
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Please love me
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Sorry bud, I know one of those is me. I’ll get it done tomorrow
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Sep 14, 2019 18:10
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Jun 2, 2018 22:45
