Dazed In The Life

Murrayfield, Edinburgh, 23rd May 2009. I was there. Along with a massive army of blue-clad fans, I was privileged to witness Leinster finally fulfill their potential and cap this glorious season for Irish rugby. Having been frustrated by the inconsistencies and heartbreaks of the last 10 years, it was an unbelievable rush and release to be there when it all came together.

But let’s start at the very beginning. I actually had an exam yesterday morning (my third of four final, Postcolonialism and Irish Studies, if you’re interested), 9:30-12:30. My flight to Edinburgh left Dublin Airport at 12:45. You do the math. The added difficulty was that, technically, you’re not supposed to leave the exam after 12, which meant a serious dash to get my three essays written in time. Thankfully, the chief invigilator (which sounds like it should be a villain in a Dan Brown book) was an understanding Ulster fan who waived the rules and let me sneak out at 12.05.

My taxi driver earned his tip, as I was at the airport by 12.25. My dad had been in touch with the DAA and, get this, I came through the VIP suite to speed up my chances of boarding the flight. I felt pretty damn cool being whished through a private check-in area, driven across the tarmac in a Merc and escorted to the top of the queue. It was all pretty posh but, ultimately, unnecessary. I was in my seat before my dad. Never mind.

So, to Scotland. We arrived at the stadium an hour before kickoff. Murrayfield is an impressive structure despite being topped with a curious mish-mash of iron twigs. There’s something exhilarating about entering a mostly-empty stadium which makes you take a deep breath as you do a full, 360 degree scan of the place. Like scanning a battlefield before the cry of charge rings out. Watching the place fill, it became obvious that the Leinster fanbase is growing. Walking through the streets to the stadium, the Leinster supporters clearly outnumbered the Leicester group by two or three to one. We were a rare breed ten years, even five years ago; now I’m not such an exclusive creature – we’re doing our best to catch Munster! In terms of fans and trophies.

Yes, trophies. That big, shiny, beautiful hunk of metal at the end of this European rainbow was well worth waiting for. I even got to touch the thing as Shane Horgan carried it through the mass of fans in the airport. The whole team passed through the departure lounge which was packed with singing and chanting happy Bluemen, signed autographs, did photos, beaming from ear to ear. A tremendous bond has started to develop between this team and their people. The travelling support has been superb and the RDS has become a fantastic venue full of fantastic fans. Munster have been able to beat Leinster with two sticks of underachievement and underwhelming support for many years, but the times, they are a-changing.

I have a seriously raw throat today after screaming and shouting all through the game yesterday. I’m not going to dissect the intricacies of the match, save to point out some obvious points. Leinster were by far the better team, with more chances and points before Stan Wright’s sinbinning. They conceded ten points while down to fourteen men, but did not allow Leicester a score for the final 37 minutes of the game. Leinster also played a very smart kicking game, chose their moments well and displayed great control and composure in the final 10 minutes to close out the win after Jonathan Sexton’s winning kick. Sexton deserves huge credit for controlling the game and contributing some stunning scores in the manner of a seasoned pro. It is sad to see Dr. Phil leave, but his young apprentice looks ready to fill his big boots.

It would be equally sad to see Rocky go. What a man. In the manner of Liverpool’s Gerrard-Torres axis, Elsom and O’Driscoll have invigorated this Leinster side beyond any previous level, especially since Christmas. They have been simply inspirational. Michael Cheika seems confident he can keep Rocky north of the equator. If he does leave, he will have left the proverbial indelible mark on Leinster rugby. As for O’Driscoll, it is as if he has decided that the stars are alligned and that he will fill in those blanks on his CV this season: Triple Crown, 6 Nations, Grand Slam, Heineken Cup. Top try scorer in the Championship and its player of the season. A winning Lions tour would be the icing on the cake. A Churchill Cup win would be a nice bonus too – Ireland has pretty much every other rugby trophy there is going right now!

Anyway, it didn’t matter that the flight home was delayed by an hour. It didn’t matter that I was shattered tired today. Hearing the stewardess congratulate us on “our win”, being congratulated by the passenger beside me on being a European Champion, the headlines in the Sunday papers, touching that trophy, getting Michael Cheika’s autograph, the signature of the man who has rebuilt Leinster in the last four years, roaring my guts out as the final whistle went…those will live with me forever.

This little piece will not read as a work of literary greatness, or as incisive sports journalism, or as a brilliantly constructed personal account. It’s a bit of a mish-mash, like the Murrayfield metalwork. But it’s hard to express yourself when you are on such a high, when your head is still spinning and when you can still hear the chants of “Lein-ster” and the strains of “Molly Malone”. It’s hard to believe, but Leinster beat Harlequins, Munster and Leicester to get here. They possess possibly the two greatest individuals in the competition. They deserve this win. We deserve it, the fans who’ve put up with the taunting and the topsy-turvy past. And Ireland deserves it too. With so many bad-news stories, sport is what we turn to for our joys. Yesterday was a joy and it was great to spend it witnessing a great team secure a great victory with my dad, who once had a trial for Leinster back in his college days. Yes indeed, yesterday was one of the best days of my life.