Clowning around with the Rugby World Cup

No wonder gambling is so addictive. Of course, it plays right into that little node in our brain that lights up like Vegas when there’s half a chance of getting something for nothing.

There’s something intoxicating about chance – the very act of consigning ourselves to the fates of the world, the rotation of the planet, the toss of a coin or the drawing of a slip of paper out of an old kitchen bowl.

Kids love games of chance. Draw anything out of a hat and watch them start shrieking and dancing with delight. It’s a great go-to for parents out of patience and out of ideas.

So the other night I’m punching out some late hours on the laptop at the kitchen table, when the two boys start in with the rugby questions. I’m not sure that you guys have met my two boys, so allow me to introduce you.

Johannes is the oldest one, an eight-year-old sandy-haired ball of intensity, named for his Zimbabwean-Dutch oupa, and to whom life is a game of inches. He’ll get out of the car on the corner of our street, race it home, and then get cranky because he couldn’t beat a 60kmh automobile.

His brother AJ is the polar opposite – a six-year-old, handsome dark-haired clown with mile-long eyelashes, who loves a chat and knows everyone in town. He’s the kid who says ‘G’day Jim’ to adults as we walk down the street, and they say ‘G’day AJ’ back.

When they grow up and play rugby, Intensity will be down the front of the bus on the way home, brooding about a missed tackle or a close loss. The Clown will be playing the guitar in the middle of the back seat and making the colts scull green ginger.

But for now, they were hassling me at the kitchen table.

“If the Brumbies played the All Blacks, who would win?”. “Is England the All Blacks?”. “What’s the World Cup?”. “Can we go to it?”. “Are you playing in the World Cup?”. “Who are you going for?”, and so on.

So after a few attempts at explanation, I told them to grab a bowl and a piece of paper and we’d play a game. They were back in a trice, with some scissors, a pen, paper and a bowl, bubbling like a couple of pots on the boil.

The idea started out simple – everyone in the family would pick out a team from the bowl. That would be their team for the World Cup and when that team was playing, we’d cook food from that country and sit down to watch the game.

So we had the first round of draws. The Clown got Scotland and got all excited because he could wear his See-You-Jimmy hat for that one. Mr Intensity got Ireland and looked anxiously at me until I assured him that Ireland was in with a chance of winning. “You’re not just saying that are you Dad?”.

Then Mum had a go – my wife Rene is a Zimbabwean who harbours Springbok sympathies, from the days when Rhodesia was effectively a South African province for rugby purposes. I forgive her for that sometimes, but I was hoping she didn’t draw the Boks. No problem – Fiji.

Finally, my go and I got Wales. Not bad. It wasn’t the Wallabies, but it wasn’t Uruguay either.

That was it I thought, but the two lunatics were bouncing around like they’d just had a double shot espresso each and wanted to keep going because they said Mum wouldn’t make the semis and so she would have no-one to cheer for in the knockout rounds. Fair enough I said, let’s have another go.

Mum got the first pick and was looking for a heavyweight, but lucked out with Tonga. While she was rolling her eyes derisively, I pulled a useful Samoa, and the Clown got ‘I-Tally’, whoever that is. Intensity drew Namibia, which nearly sent him into a tailspin until I assured him that whoever came dead last on our complex table of points and bonuses, would get a prize. That papered over the cracks a bit.

That was two teams each, which sort of didn’t make much sense, so we decided that since there are five in the family, we’d all get four teams (the fifth is Abi, the three-year-old pocket rocket who runs around like Dash from the Incredibles, and who plays Lounge-Room-Knee-Footy like Georgia Page).

Because the Rocket was in bed already, Intensity and The Clown decided that she would get the leftovers, which in hindsight was as good a way as any of randomly selecting four teams out of a hat.

The third round picks began and the tension lifted a notch. Intensity got Japan and had an immediate meltdown… “Aaaaargh! They can’t win!!”. The Clown got ‘Canadia’ – that’s how he pronounced it so I guess it’s right. The Zimbo pulled Uruguay and threw her hands up, saying the draw was obviously more rigged than a Mugabe election. And I tried not to look smug as I pulled two-time winners South Africa.

That left one round to go. Intensity was face down beating his fists on the carpet. The Clown was dancing around on his tip-toes like the court jester, still looking for a genuine winner. The Zimbo had basically given up and was watching Wimbledon… and then casually reached into the bowl and plucked out New Zealand. You’ve never seen someone come out of a losing stupor so quickly and start trash talking. I tell you this, the accent gives it an edge.

Intensity shuffled his hand around the bowl with a look of anguish before picking France, and then looked at me suspiciously when I said that they had a good chance of beating New Zealand at least.

The Clown pulled home team England and jumped around like it was 2003 all over again. And I pulled a final dud in Romania, but comforted myself with the idea that at least dinner would be interesting that night. Stuffed cabbage rolls please.

That left the Rocket with Georgia, United States, Argentina and of course, Australia. So much for Woody Allen’s showing-up rule. She was punching out zeds and still got the Wallabies.

We needed a scoring system. So here’s what we decided. Each team gets twice their world ranking as points start. Match scores and starts accumulate as overall points, and whoever wins each match also gets five points for the win.

It should make for some interesting match-ups. France versus Canadia (or Intensity versus The Clown) for instance, the beginning score will be France 14-34 Canadia (ranked 7 and 16 respectively) and basically we then play to see if the French can put 20 unanswered points on the Canadians. More to the point, can Mr Intensity handle losing to his little brother without his head exploding.

The sleeper in this system is Samoa – physically brutal and getting 18 points start courtesy of their nine ranking – they’ll be hard for South Africa to beat in their pool game even without the start. Luckily I’ve got both, so whatever happens there, Dad wins.

Italy too, ranked 15, will be hard for some sides to beat with a 30-point bonus before kick-off. The Clown will be hoping that he can give his brother a mid tournament heart-attack with a net win over France.

Of course, the system gives both sides a start, so it evens out. But where it gets interesting is when the top sides play minnows. Remember Georgia versus Ireland in 2007 where Ireland narrowly won 14-10? Well with our scoring system, the final result would be Georgia 38-20 Ireland.

Anyway, all this playing around made me realise that it’s only 79 days until kick-off for Rugby World Cup 2015, and we’ve already got a list of teams and a scoring system tacked to the side of the fridge.

Stand by – this could be the biggest Rugby World Cup yet. And the winner?

Anyone but Mum.