I watched Leinster yesterday before I headed for work. I wish I hadn't - my blood was boiling by the end. Watch the video to see what that squat, fat, no-necked fucker White does to Leinster's Malcolm O'Kelly. It's an absolute joke that these walking heart-attacks waiting to happen are even considered sportsmen. A lot of the match was similarly disgusting.
It's bad enough that this sort of thing happens between the rugger trenches but it's much worse that the officials - who get to demand the sort of ridiculous schoolmaster-esque obedience that you'd hardly see in a stage adaptation of Oliver Twist - punish such a blatant act of scumbag thuggery in the same manner as the most obscure of rule infractions.
However what really pisses me off is the reaction of the rugby 'fraternity' to what happened. It was nearly a joke on Sky Sports, with one prick I saw this evening getting the obligatory 'You don't want to condone violence' bit in, before going on to do precisely that, and having a good chuckle in the process.
Meanwhile the fans on the radio phone-ins in Ireland castigated O'Kelly for not fighting back! They're not interested in watching sport - i.e. real athletes - they just want to watch a fight; they want to cream themselves watching big meatheads get physical with each other.
This is how the Sunday Times reported it: 'Tempers continued to flare and Julian White was carded on the half-hour for throwing a punch at O’Kelly, even though the prop failed to make contact.' For real! Had the gobshite no access to video? The hack was a Nigel Botherway; is there any limit to the number of English egg-followers with ridiculous names?
Meanwhile the bloke in the Sunday Telegraph reports that '[f]or a while this was rugby on the edge, with every collision seeming to possess the richest potential for a scrap. Goodness knows why this was - maybe Leicester were irked by Leinster out-muscling them in this pool's opener in November - but it certainly provided unexpected entertainment. It didn't last, of course.' What a shame, huh?
I didn't watch Boring Munster, although I believe they kicked the ball out of play a sufficient number of times to earn an easy victory. So I suppose I'll just have to hope that whoever they're playing next will be able to silence that piss-poor '70s rebel wannabe song they so love. You know, that one about some field in some village in another part of the country altogether...