You might have come here expecting some sort of serious prematch analysis given that Saturday is the first test match of the season. You should have known better. It’s just way too hard for me to get up for this one. Maybe it is the fact that the supposed number 2 team in the world just got spanked by a tiny island nation, maybe it is the fact that the Boks sent their “C” team over, but I’m not feeling it.
It’s been said that guys like David Duchovny in Californication suffer from some sort of compulsive obsessive desire to chase the next high. They engage in reckless sexual behaviour compulsively and without enjoyment – yet they can’t stop. Test match rugby is starting to take on that twist for me. I know I shouldn’t take another hit. I know those junk dealers up at SANZAR are just lining their filthy pockets with my addiction, but still, I can’t help myself – I’ll be up and at ’em in front of the flat screen come kick off time, shoving biltong in my mouth and trying to avoid direct eye contact with Darren Scott just like I used to when I was a kid – just desperate for that next fix of how rugby used to make me feel.
Perhaps I should just grow up and accept that too much test rugby inevitably means that individual encounters lose that special aura they used to have. Maybe that’s a notch you put in the shattered dreams bucket of “growing older” along with:
- finding out that pro-wrestling is rigged
- you’re not talented or driven enough to be the lead guitarist of the next big rock thing
- that MacGyver guy is really just a phoney
- finding out that work sucks – you’re not going to be carried in the arms of cheerleaders for a living
- that moment when it dawns on you that Winnie Cooper doesn’t end up with Kevin Arnold
- Hansie Cronje
But still we soldier on anyway, forking out our cash for SANZAR, still telling ourselves this test match will be different. I feel dirty already…