Just shy of a year ago, Alex Groves had open-heart surgery to fix an aneurism, having been told that he could die if he played rugby again without it.
And here he was, 362 days later, starting a game for the first time after coming off the bench a couple of times.
I can’t imagine what it must be like to be told that doing the thing you love could kill you, unless you have this major operation and, even then, it might not work.
But he’s back and I, for one, wish him all the best.
Any road up, it’s week two of the Six Nations (or should that be 🏉️M6N🏉️, now?) and already it’s looking as if Wales will struggle to make the top six.
Italy look like they’re just out there to have fun, Scotland seem to be learning some harsh realities, and Ireland are being… annoyingly good.
And then there was the other smash-and-grab one-point victory of the weekend…
In the interest of saving electrons, I’m doing a two-for-one match report this week:
Did Doncaster/England win that match or did Sale/France throw it away? Certainly, it would seem to be the latter, given that it was the losing side that had the bulk of the possession and opportunity, only to fall foul of inaccuracies in handling and giving away penalties in critical positions.
How many times did Sale/France have the line at their mercy, only to fumble or drop the ball just when the opportunity for the killer blow had presented itself? Or give up the penalty to allow Donny/England to set up and take their own chances? To what extent did Donny/England’s game plan frustrate Sale/France and effectively force them into mistakes?
(I’ve just read through what I’ve written below and it comes across as a stream of consciousness. Sorry about that – it’s something that hit me quite forcefully over the weekend and I’m trying to get some relatively unformed thoughts down. I’m not going to prettify it, read as if I’m that crazy guy mumbling to himself in the corner of the pub.)
That’s enough of that. What I really wanted to talk about is how these two games bring into stark relief the way that being invested in the result can seriously -uck up your emotions[^1].
On the one hand, the team you want to win butchers chance after chance, each one a fresh disappointment, another strangled scream, another raising of your face to the heavens, crying “What the -uck?”[^2] But, on the other hand, when it’s your opponent that’s got the butterfingers, it’s the relaxing of the clenched bum, the anxiety turned to elation, the scaring of the dog as you scream “Yes, yes, yes” into the void.
And, at the end of the game, the emptiness inside contrasting with an ebullient desire to find someone, anyone to talk to and discuss the fantastic victory, all heightened a thousand-fold because you weren’t expected to lose/win.
The commentators called both games “poor” or, at least, pedestrian: and that’s probably true for neutral observers. But when you’re invested in a game, it can’t be pedestrian, because your emotions are going to be pulled about one way or the other. It’s elation or despair: there’s no in-between.
I said on Facebook that I’d rather watch that England/France game than any amount of basketball[^3] rugby. I ought to qualify that and say basketball rugby where I’m neutral because, when I’m neutral, gut emotions don’t enter into it. Had I watched the exact same sequence of events but between, say, Australia and New Zealand, it would have been just another game, one of little consequence. But then, to a large extent, so would a fast-moving, high-scoring game between those two teams; because I’m not invested in the result.
But, because I am invested, the game turns into something deeply emotional and deeply personal and so a dour, hard-fought game has more meaning than a high-scoring display of silky skills where the result is of no consequence (to me). You also get a level of investment in games where the result affects your own team’s position. When you want Team A to win to keep Team B off your back, you end up with a milder form of emotional investment in the result, which heightens the enjoyment (or otherwise) of something in which you are otherwise neutral. That’s why league structures are so enthralling: working out permutations and being invested in the results of more than just your own team’s matches. I love it.
Note, I’m not saying that I don’t enjoy the silky skills, especially if it’s Sale or England displaying them, it’s just that an emotional connection to the events swamps an intellectual appreciation.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way, even feeling the way I did on Friday because, for every loss to Donny, there’s snatching a win against France.
[^1]: Muck, I meant muck up. Wash your mind out…
[^2]: Not that time, though.
[^3]: Run up one end, score; run up the other end, score, run back, score… T20 compared to Test matches.
an old grey dog 