Six Nations Rugby: England v. Italy

Yesterday our friends Caroline & Andy invited us to see England trounce Italy in the first match of the Six Nations Rugby championship, a much anticipated annual tournament between England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, France and Italy.

The stadium is in Twickenham, a smallish London suburb/village with NO parking and very narrow roads. So spectators get as close as they can via a variety of public transport, and then walk for ages in the cold toward the stadium. Enterprising locals set up sausage stands on their front lawns and rent out their driveways to those brave/stupid enough to drive to the match.



















And you can purchase flags and scarves to show your support for England all along the walk.

























Unless you are fans from Italy and brought assenine fan gear from home.



In any event, there were LOADS of people.





What better way to kick off a rugby match than with Special Forces being lowered on a giant flag of Engand from the roof of the stadium? (It was a lot more hardcore than my photo conveys).


And there was also God Save the Queen:



It didn't take England very long to score. And so the crowd was happy.






















I'm confused as to why England fans sing a traditional American spiritual to root on their team, and even more confused as to how they all manage to sing in unison from the first note.



In truth, it was not the most exciting game given how dominant England was. There was a solitary Italian fan near us wrapped in his country's flag. I wouldn't have guessed it was possible to look so stoic while wearing a blue clown wig.

But it's always great fun to see rugby anyhow. We purchased little radios that allow you to listen to the action on the field via a small mic worn by the referee (the feed from which is otherwise not broadcast). It's great for better understanding what's happening and also hear what the players are saying to one another. (It's not like American football where the refs will explain penalties to the crowd. )

























Then, after being dominated most of the match and losing what seemed like half its team to injuries, Italy (in blue) finally scored:



But it was too little too late, and in the end England won handily.













After the game we retired to the Sun Inn, a rugby-themed pub in Richmond (along with a lot of other fans).

The crowd was jovial but it'd been a long day so we headed home while the evening was still on a, um, high note:

York Hall

Scott and I went to the fights on Friday night at the historic York Hall Leisure Centre in Bethnal Green. Awesome venue and atmosphere.





The main event was the British welterweight title fight: Kell Brooks vs. Stuart Elwell.

The Telegraph summarizes it better than I could:

"Elwell looked out of his league, the 31-year-old felled by a jabbing hook 30 seconds into the fight, then punished again with a straight right. Before the first round was over, he was down again, this time by a left cross, and was given a standing count by referee Marcus McDonnell. Elwell ended the round looking very shaky indeed.

When Brook wobbled the legs of his opponent again in the second with a left, right, left, as Brook picked his shots, referee McDonnell had seen enough. It was the right decision. Elwell was in no position to continue."

Here's a very poor quality video from my mobile phone. You can't really see much, but if you turn up your speaker you can hear a very loud, very drunk spectator shouting advice to the boxers (something useful, along the lines of "fucking come on!"). Helps you get a feel for York Hall.




Brook was amazing to watch. Swift, powerful, focused, yet totally serene. Tough, both mentally and physically. Which is why I suppose was surprised/amused to hear his voice in the post fight interview:

Come on, Fulham!

Attended my first football game last night. Fulham v. Middlesborough ("Middls-bruh") at Craven Cottage stadium in London. Awesome, but much more so for the atmosphere and people watching than for the athleticism. Fulham isn't doing so well, and Middlesborough didn't look all that hot either. It was more like going to a triple A baseball game.

I had grand plans to take lots of photos but learned at the last minute that cameras are not allowed into the stadium, so I left mine home. And I had grand plans to record the chants to share with you, but long story short I screwed up and there are no recordings.

It's too bad, because we were in the rowdy seats, which was like the bleachers at Yankee Stadium, times ten, plus on crack. Apparently it was not all that rowdy as football games go. And they take protective measures: fans from opposing teams are segregated into different sections and they don't serve beer. But I still had the feeling, surrounded by a hoard of 20 year old guys screaming and swearing til their carotid arteries were pulsing visibly, that a fight could break out at any second.

The cops seemed to think so, too. There were plenty of them sprinkled in the stands, wearing earpieces and relentlessly scanning for the first sign of trouble. And there were droves of mounted riot police lining the street outside to corral any hooligans. (As an aside, did you know that they make riot visors for horses? Take a look.)

But anyway, back to the chants.

There's the classic, straight forward "Come on, Fulham"

Come on, Fulham!
Come on, Fulham!
Come on, Fulham!
(listen)

Then there's "We are Fulham" (FFC stands for Fulham Football Club. The guy screaming his head off in this clip was sitting right behind us last night, I think):

We are Fulham,
We are Fulham,
We are Fulham,
FFC,
We are Fulham,
Super Fulham,
We are Fulham,
Fuck Chelsea!
( listen)



Of course, it doesn't matter that they aren't playing Chelsea. They hate Chelsea and will take any opportunity to broadcast it from the rooftops, as in this little ditty which was repeated over and over:

Stand Up If You Hate Chelsea,
Stand Up If You Hate Chelsea,
Stand Up If You Hate Chelsea,
Stand Up If You Hate Chelsea..
(listen)

They're not super sophisticated, these chants. For example:

You're shit
And you know you are
You're shit
And you know you are

Or, after the Middlesborough fans in the opposing stands failed to respond, in song, to our section's chants:

Your support is fucking shit
Your support is fucking shit
Your support is fucking shit

While surfing around trying to find some football chant clips, I came across this song, Fields of Athenry, which is an Irish folk song about the famine that has become associated with Irish football. Quite a contrast.

I can't believe I've lived here 6 months and have not been paying attention to football

I suppose it would help if we had television. I mean, we have a TV, but no TV service. For now it's just hooked up to the DVD player so we can watch movies and documentaries. This is part laziness in dealing with the cable people, part experiment in recapturing our lives from crap TV. But unfortunately, it means I am missing out on all sorts of sports, or 'sport' as they say here.


(photo: BBC Sport)

Lucky Scott was at the Fulham-Arsenal game last night. For those of you who don't follow Premiere League football, this was a pretty big game and when the dust settled, Fulham emerged victorious--the first time they'd beaten Arsenal in 40 years!

He called me from his fancy corporate box seats to let me hear the crowd. Amazing chants!

Same old Arsenal
Same old Arsenal
Always cheating!

AND

We are Fulham
We are Fulham
Fuck Chelsea!

(um, but aren't you guys playing Arsenal right now? I guess it doesn't matter...)

There is an effort underway to produce an extra ticket for yours truly for Saturday's game between Arsenal and the Tottenham Hotspurs. Otherwise, I will have to enjoy it vicariously via Scott's mobile phone.