Raise your hand if you also get ankle-tapped a lot in the rugby match of life.
Okay, so Friday definitely didn’t win the gold medal as far as birthdays go, thanks to the little injury I picked up, but success over our old rivals was a pretty sweet gift and certainly placed it elsewhere on the podium at least. Birthday or not - Stormers fixtures are always circled in red on calendars in the houses of my nearest and dearest.
I can’t remember if I said it before in blogs of the past, but I grew up in a big family full of passionate WP supporters. Port Elizabeth didn’t have much to offer to the rugby fraternity at the time – I mean, we definitely couldn’t call ourselves Super Rugby conference leaders – not even hypothetically. So it was understandable that most of us stood behind our neighbours to the West.
I pretty much disintegrated the family when I decided to pursue my dream of making rugby my career... in Pretoria.
Over the years the family feuds have settled somewhat, and the average get-together is somewhat less of a logistical nightmare, but the family still comes alive whenever we battle it out with our southern rivals.
I’ll tell you this much - thank heavens I decided to come up North, because imagine how the adult version of this young WP supporter would have turned out...
I guess I’ve always been destined for the pink jerseys.
Little does young Dewie know that in just a couple of years he will have broken his nose five times.
Anyway, back to the Stormers game.
Okay, I have no misconceptions – it definitely wasn’t the game of the weekend, but it was a great way to start our campaign. We did a lot of things well – things that helped us be successful in previous years, but there’s still lots of room for improvement, and we’re well aware of it.
I think the Sharks should feel good about themselves too, what with their derby win away from home. Those are pretty important.
However, the ones who should feel best about themselves are the group of guys, whoever they are, that decided on the fixtures for this year’s Super Rugby competition and, more specifically, for giving the Kings a bye in their second week.
I’m not quite sure why I haven’t heard anything on the news yet, but considering the amount of people I recognised on TV hailing from the town of Despatch, it is my conclusion that the stadium was partially destroyed after the game. You don’t understand just how devastating an inebriated Despatcher can be. They should be calmer by next weekend.
The rest of the country as well for that matter – all this hatred directed towards the Kings for ruining everybody’s Superbru predictions has to subside at some point.
I’m looking forward to some good games on the weekend. We’ve got the Force at Loftus on Saturday before we depart on our overseas tour next week. My medial ligament injury means I’m missing this one, but the news after the MRI scan is better than we expected, and I might be ready within the next week or two, so it’s not that bad.
Since my birthday on Friday was also a game day, there wasn’t much celebrating possible, and so my girlfriend decided to kidnap me on Saturday instead. We started things off with a spa session, because everyone wants to be subjected to a deep tissue massage the day after you spent the previous night running into people. That was followed by a visit to the Lion and Rhino Park, because everyone wants to play with a couple of tiger cubs when you’ve got fresh wounds and you can’t run away when they decide to attack.
Just kidding moo moo, it was lovely...
In the meantime I’ll frequent the hyperbaric treatment facility to aid my recovery, and I’ll let you know if I find Nemo...