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'Tis the summer of our discontent

Al new author
Roar Rookie
17th January, 2016
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The Highlanders' Aaron Smith. (AAP Image/ SNPA, Ross Setford)
Al new author
Roar Rookie
17th January, 2016
41
2184 Reads

January. A wretched month for sport.

Little Lleyton Hewitt is doing the press rounds once again – will he, won’t he? Looks as if he is finally retiring, but you could be mistaken for thinking it’s 2010. Or 2012. Or 2014.

A lacklustre Australian cricket summer has me once again yawning and reaching for the remote, the commentary on par with the sub-standard cricket making it easier to switch channels. God, I miss you, Ritchie.

The Big Bash League? Meh. Colourful, yes. Substance? Not really.

The World Championship of Darts came and went, my interest died with Peter ‘Snakebite’ Wright’s demise. I mean c’mon, is there a better dressed ‘athlete’ on the planet?

Yep, I definitely have the summer grumbles, it hits me like clockwork at this time every year.

I’m a purist, a rugby tragic some would say and summer is to me but a dirty vortex that sucks away all rugby related news, views and action.

Occasionally I’ll get my fix by checking into the Top 14 in France, it’s always interesting to see how the ARU discards are travelling. Last I saw, Quade Cooper was apparently playing like French dip.

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James O’Connor’s been scoring tries, good on him, I’m sure numerous French nightclubs were alerted to this fact as well. Even Big ‘Kev’ Horwill’s been making his mark, both over the try line and through the use of his somewhat stiff elbow.

But it doesn’t really cut it. I need the southern hemisphere stuff and it can’t come soon enough.

Slowly but surely, pre-season vision and news stories are starting to pop up, which in reality is like waving a three-day-old cheeseburger in front of a starving man – yeah he’ll devour it, but it still leaves him craving the real stuff.

It doesn’t help that last year, our beloved Wallabies exceeded our expectations and got within sniffing distance of Bill. Yes, those dastardly All Blacks did what we all knew they would, became immortals and earned free Tui and L&Ps for the rest of their lives.
Hey, good on them, they deserved it.

But our Wallabies? They showed heart! They showed some resolve! They showed unity and a pride in the jersey that, let’s be honest, has been missing for some time. They put rugby back on the map, albeit just above the NBL and just below the A-League but hey, we’ll take it.

But above all else, they’ve given us, the tragics, some much-needed optimism moving forward. Which is why this coming Super Rugby season cannot come soon enough.

I don’t want to hear grumbles about travel schedules or lopsided draws, or whether the new inclusions are warranted. (Bring on the Sunwolves and Los Jaguares I say, how exotic! Suguremashita! Muy bien!).

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Nope, no more grumbles. It’s a chance to watch some fine running rugby, to watch the continued growth of our men in gold as well as those that are knocking on the door, those players who may just be the game winners at the 2019 World Cup.

It’s a beautiful, tasty appetiser to the international season ahead.

And what a season it will be. Eddie Jones bringing those buggers in white out here for three Tests, the Rugby Championship and a chance to sneak the Bledisloe Cup off the world champions, who hopefully are still mentally celebrating in London.

But alas, it all seems so far away.

For now, YouTube is my fix. Classic Bledisloe wins, Bernie Larkham highlight reels, Michael Brial brain explosions and Nathan Grey’s shots on the Lions – it’s all I have.

So if you too are like me, groaning your way through this dull, void month, take heart.

Pre-season trials are coming. Hang tough, bask in the knowledge that there are many out there just like you, forcing themselves to give a rats about who will win between Kei Nishikori and Richard Gasquet, or if the Sixers will overrun the Renegades.

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Breathe. Relax.

Trials are less than one month away and then we will be basking in all the glory that is our beloved rugby union, from February all the way through to December.

Perhaps that’s the only upside of this cursed month of January – that the next bloody one is twelve whole months away.

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