Last weekend I attended the Heineken Cup Final 2008 between Munster and Toulouse. In short, the experience was incredible. Following is an account of the weekend, one of most memorable of my life.
I left work at the usual time of 5pm on Friday 23rd May 2008. Except this time I had a bit more of the Friday feeling than usual. I was finally on my way to Cardiff for the European Rugby Cup Final between Munster and Toulouse. I had bought tickets way back before the season began and Munster had come a long way, fighting to come top of the pool of death and beating both Gloucester and Saracens in away quarter and semi finals respectively. Now they faced the giants of European rugby, Toulouse, in a very fitting end to their European Cup campaign.
My excitement heightened as I passed through security and noted that the vast majority of travellers that evening were dressed in red Munster jerseys sporting the familiar white Toyota text. As I approached my gate, it became clear to me that supporters were trying to get to anywhere at all in the UK that they could, regardless of distance from Cardiff. I presumed they would later worry about getting to Cardiff from Glasgow, Newcastle or Manchester or wherever they were flying to. It never ceases to amaze me how determined Munster fans are to get to a match.
In my case, I was flying to London. I had purchased plane tickets back in March when it was definite that Munster had topped the pool stages. At that point, air tickets to Cardiff were already sold out and tickets to nearby Bristol were averaging over €200 each way. There was no way I could afford that and so I opted for a set of €20 each way tickets to London Gatwick. I planned to stay with Aileen on the Friday night and head to Cardiff on a coach on the Saturday morning. Even with the added cost of getting to Aileen’s place in Blackheath by train and the return coach ticket to Cardiff, the total cost of travel was nowhere near what it would have been if I’d flown to Cardiff or Bristol.
So off I went and arrived at Aileen’s later that night with no problems other than the usual one hour flight delay. The only task of importance that needed to be performed that night was to wash my Munster jersey and a few other clothes. I had failed to dry my washed clothes for the weekend and so I brought my bag of laundry to work on Friday with the intention to get it tumble dried at a laundrette during the day. Unfortunately the laundrette was too busy to do it and I was forced to bring the clothes to the UK with me. By the time I arrived at Aileen’s, the washed clothes were smelly from a day and a half of being in a plastic bag and so I had to wash the whole lot again. However, as you will soon find out, this turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
At 7.30 in the morning, Aileen and I woke up and set off on the journey to Cardiff with my bag of freshly washed clothes! First we took a train from Westcombe Park to London Bridge. From there we were able to get the tube to Victoria Coach Station where we grabbed a connecting coach to Cardiff. By the time we arrived at Victoria Station, we were running slightly late and couldn’t find our coach. After a few seconds glancing around the bus station however, it was obvious which coach was ours. It was the one with a massive line of people waiting to get into it – all wearing red Munster jerseys. Great stuff! I even bumped into Thom, a bloke Fi and I met while travelling around Bolivia last year.
The coach ride was fun with a great atmosphere inside it albeit a lack of air conditioning. There was even the odd French person on the bus although they weren’t wearing Toulouse jerseys. The journey was scheduled to take 3 hours and 15 minutes and we were only thirty minutes late arriving in Cardiff due to a massive queue for the toll bridge just outside the city. As soon as we arrived we were treated to a spectacle like none other. The sun was blazing down on a glorious day in Wales. The streets were jam-packed with Munster supporters and plenty more were spilling out of the pubs. It was only 1pm and everybody seemed to be drunk already!
I got in touch with a friend of my cousin Richard who we were renting an apartment from and we grabbed a cab to meet him. Once he had given us the key and showed us around we swiftly freshened up by having a shower only to discover there were no towels! It seemed we were destined for an intense drip-dry session when I suddenly remembered that the random bag of laundry I’d been carrying around included a towel! Not a big one mind you but enough to do the job. One quick bottle of champagne later and we were in a cab again, travelling back towards the stadium. By this stage, the inner city streets had been closed off to traffic and the taxi driver dropped us as close to the stadium as he could. This suited us fine as it gave us an opportunity to do a bit of walking around and soak up the atmosphere.
The scene on the streets was even better than two hours previously. The crowds were bigger, redder and rowdier. A crowd had a rugby ball and were kicking it as high as they could into the air. It was the responsibility of the person who caught it to kick it back up again for somebody else to catch – that’s if it didn’t land on your head! At one stage, the ball went to ground and about 6 people dived on it. It looked messy but eventually one guy came up tops and hoofed the ball over a building. There was a large noisy groan from the crowd who were disappointed their game had been cut short. However, several seconds later the ball appeared from the other side of the building and landed in the middle of the crowd. Of course this was immediately followed by a loud Irish cheer.
I’d been texting my Uncle Mike a bit that morning as he was also travelling up from London on the train with two of my cousins. Although it was approaching an hour before kick off, we headed to a bar to meet up with them briefly. Soon after that we were on our way inside the stadium. We were in section U34 which is fairly high up about halfway between one of the try lines and the 22-metre line. We climbed up and up and up and all the way we could hear the booming crowds from inside the stadium. Eventually we got to U34 and as we stepped out we were awed by an incredible sight. The stadium was only half full at this stage but already the noise and colour were breath-taking. I was also pleased to note that our seats were actually at the front of section U34 and not as far back as I thought. The only disappointment was that the stadium roof was closed despite the fact that it was a glorious day outside.
Aileen wanted to queue for a couple of drinks so I left her to it and headed for my seat to soak up the pre-match atmos. As I took a better look around the stadium, I realised I could not see a single Toulouse supporter. Of course, this was made difficult by the fact that the Toulouse jersey is also red however I still expected to see a few. I couldn’t even hear any Toulouse chants. The lack of opposition supporters was further emphasised when the MC announced each Munster and Toulouse player one by one. At one point, the MC called out Ronan O’Gara’s name which was greeted by a deafening roar. Immediately following this, O’Gara’s Toulouse counterpart was announced - Jean-Baptiste Elissalde. Although Elissalde would be a highly respected and experienced French rugby player, there was a barely audible murmur in response to his name.
Aileen arrived back with the drinks just in time for kick-off and things got going. In retrospect, the game panned out pretty much as it was always going to. The first 20-30 minutes, Toulouse appeared to have the edge. They had all the possession and were making all the attacks. However, they never really threatened the Munster line and it became clear that Munster were trying to wear Toulouse down – and it was working. Once they had lowered the French team’s confidence to the desired level, Munster turned things up a notch and moved into attack mode. From this point on, Toulouse never really had a chance.
The try came shortly enough before half time. Toulouse had a scrum on their own line however such was the standard of Munster’s scrummaging that day that the Toulouse number 8 picked the ball out of the scrum, only to be immediately greeted by Tomas O’Leary and Alan Quinlan. The Toulouse player was buried and the scrum awarded to Munster. Several passages of pick and play followed Munster’s resulting scrum and a short while later, Denis Leamy was being driven over the line by Donncha O’Callaghan and Alan Quinlan. The score would have been 10-3 to Munster at half time had it not been for a Toulouse penalty late in the first half.
The second half continued with Munster busy locking the game down. They were ahead and they were going to make it stay that way with a little help from the supporters who were by now launching into the umpteenth rendition of ‘The Fields of Athenry’. About half way through the second half, Cedric Heymans threw a small spanner in Munster’s works when he performed a beautiful double chip and chase to get past Munster’s otherwise impenetrable defence which resulted in a Toulouse try. It was the only piece of play of note from Toulouse and it came down to a tricky manoeuvre that it takes a player of Heymans’ stature to pull off. The last ten minutes were as nail biting as ever for a Munster game but finally, Munster were awarded a penalty and the final whistle sounded. Full time. Munster were champions of Europe again with a score of 16-13.
At this point, the reason for the closed roof became clear. Once the Toulouse players had accepted their medals and quietly slipped off to the dressing room, the main floodlights were turned off and an atmosphere of suspense was created by blue and red spotlights. The medals and cup were awarded to the sound of screaming fans and some fireworks but unfortunately we were on the wrong side of the stadium to see properly. The players did however do a lap of honour, pausing at each section for the fans to get a good look and take some photos.
After a while, Aileen and I slipped off to do some celebrating with the 60,000 estimated other Munster supporters in the city. Alas, the celebrations were not to turn out as expected. I had been off the booze for four weeks at this stage and I severely underestimated my lack of tolerance for alcohol. That’s not to say that I drank a particularly large amount, but it meant that a few hours later, I was far too lethargic to be doing anything and we headed home at around midnight. Slightly disappointing but it didn’t at all take away from the magnificence of the day.
Thanks to my newfound lack of tolerance for alcohol, I awoke the next day with an unusually heavy hangover. Thankfully, I had little to do other than travel that day. Once we’d settled up with Richard’s friend for the apartment, we headed into the city for an onwards journey to London and then on to Dublin for me. One of the main things I noticed about the city the next morning was the cleanliness. As you can see in some of the photos below, the streets were utter carnage by the time we left them after the match. By the next morning, the place was spotless. The officials have obviously got the clean-up operation down to a tee.
It was a great weekend, one of the best of my life and certainly not one I’ll ever forget. Talk about something to tell the Grandkids! Tickets are already on sale for the Heineken Cup Final 2009 but I’m not sure if buying them this early would be tempting fate! Photos to follow below real soon.
Now away with ye...
Phew! Last night I got a late invitation to drinks in town with Kev, Dan and Denis. I gladly accepted the invitation as it was Kev’s last night before heading to Clifden for the summer and I hadn’t seen Dirty Denis in about 18 months. The plan was to meet in The Temple Bar at 10pm but of course when I arrived at 10.10, I was the only one there. I wasn’t too put off mind you and purchased a creamy pint of Guinness while I waited for the boys. The Temple Bar was jammed with tourists, many of them American and I quietly surveyed the scene while sipping my pint and listening to the ludicrously loud trad band. Denis was the first to turn up and I barely recognised him with all the facial hair. He looked like Kevin Bacon! We purchased more pints and soon got talking to some randomers. The randomers turned out to be Danielle, Meghan and Travis. Danielle was from Windsor, Ontario and the others were from Florida.
As talking progressed and Dan also arrived, I let slip that Col is currently living in Toronto, not too far from Windsor. Danielle, being a crazy Canadian, insisted on getting in touch with Col. Always the match-maker, I promptly texted Col with a message from Danielle. As was to be expected, Col’s response was ‘Who… What?’. I move on from that topic and decided to question Travis as to how he got nasty looking cuts all over his face. I was expecting some big tale of courage and bravery and more courage where he intervened on a situation where a woman was being attacked by a big guy with a knife. Unfortunately, the truth was far less exciting. It turns out he was attempting to give Danielle a piggy-back and in doing so, fell forward and cut his face open! I advised him that in future he concoct a much more masculine story and forget the real explanation.
When I had given up trying to persuade the Canadian and Americans that Denis looked like Kevin Bacon and Dan looked like Gary Sinise, I decided to make tracks. I had intended to take the last bus home at 11.30 however due to the late arrival of the boys, it wasn’t really going to happen. I did however have every intention of catching the first vomit comet at 12.30, which I did. On my way home I realised that I didn’t have my house key. I texted each of the three lads I live with to unlock the front door before they went to bed. I of course forgot that they were all already in bed and later found out that they had all got out of bed to unlock the front door for me, only to meet each other in the hall. Each one thought they were the only one who got the text!
It’s the next day and I’m positively wrecked. I am still easing myself back into a drinking buzz following a four week abstinence. The weekend just gone was a drinking disaster however I did manage to have four pints last night and not get too bad. However despite this, I’m in a very lethargic place right now and am looking forward to a good sleep tonight. But not before a delicious chicken korma first!
