TRAIPSING THROUGH THE 33-degree heat in Bilbao on Sunday morning, one could have been forgiven for forgetting the European rugby finals had taken place in the Basque city over the two previous days.
Spanish cities are fairly quiet on Sundays anyway: retail stores and supermarkets are mostly closed. And even if they shared this writer’s interest in catching the second half of the Leinster Senior Hurling Championship game between Dublin and Kilkenny in Molly Malone’s pub, the Spaniards themselves are wiser than to wander around in such searing heat.
The eardrums were tickled now only by the echoes of the incessant UBB chants that had reverberated around these streets until the wee hours prior. There wasn’t a Bordeaux jersey to be seen, most of their supporters having begun the three-and-a-half-hour trip north for the homecoming.
Spanish rugby fans ahead of Friday's Challenge Cup final. Nick Elliott / INPHO
Nick Elliott / INPHO / INPHO
Those who had taken with them to Bilbao their own colours — Toulouse, Munster, Biarritz, Leicester, amateur clubs from around the continent — were either back in civvies or nursing hangovers in rare spots of shade, reality beginning to loom.
Turning the corner onto Estraunza Kale Partikularra, then, brought with it mixed emotions. On the one hand, the three Leinster supporters sipping drinks on the plaza, the sleeves of their jerseys above their shoulders, were surely a sign that Molly Malone’s was only around the corner. On the other hand, their sadness was conspicuous from easily a hundred yards away. The last of the Mohicans or, in this instance, the mojitos.
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They had booked themselves onto a late-evening flight home with the intention of exploring their beautiful surrounds. They had instead stranded themselves in a cauldron of despair. When mentioned to them that the Guggenheim Museum was about a 10-minute walk away, one of them laughed, “What’s the f***ing point in… contemporary art, anyway?” He was joking, but his momentary hesitation suggested that he had only just about stopped himself from asking what the point is in anything.
UBB's Matthieu Jalibert and Damian Penaud celebrate with the Champions Cup trophy. James Crombie / INPHO
James Crombie / INPHO / INPHO
Sport is cruel, as Ciarán Frawley, a can of Heineken in hand, had put it in the mixed zone of Estadio de San Mamés on Saturday evening.
And yet, while they suffered the unfortunate flick off Hugo Keenan’s hand and a few callously French bounces along the way, this Leinster defeat by Bordeaux was notable for the degree to which it wasn’t actually unlucky. It was a new reality with which travelling supporters were forced to contend: the agony of past defeats gave way to something closer to resignation.
Plenty of them would have Leo Cullen resign now, even while couching such a wish with words of appreciation for an indisputable club legend. That the head coach himself seemingly attempted to cushion the defeat by stressing how great it was to partake in such an occasion left a sour taste with some; they had spent their money to watch Leinster perform and win, to banish the wicked feeling that has gnawed at their souls for years. The ‘occasion’ was more like… contemporary art.
Of course, Cullen and his players worked tirelessly to make it to Bilbao with the same intention. But that their effort in the game could not have been questioned poses a question of its own by extension: why did Bordeaux look like the psychologically better-prepared, technically better-coached team? An immediate URC quarter-final against the Lions means that Leinster will have little time to look inwards for that answer. They’ll instead have “turn the page”, as a few of their players noted post-match on Saturday (not a criticism — what the hell else could they have said?). But many Leinster supporters will have stuck a bookmark in Bilbao until at least the end of the current league campaign.
While the post-match press conference probably wasn’t the time or the place to gush about it, Cullen was actually spot-on about the occasion, to be fair.
European finals weekend is, for rugby, a unique celebration; a rainbow of jerseys, an almighty piss-up, and a festival of shite-talk between groups of people who might otherwise have no reason to converse but suddenly find themselves locked in a friendly debate as to whether Romain Ntamack’s best position might actually be 12.
Notable were the number of supporters representing clubs from non-traditional rugby countries. Late on Saturday night, for example, a travelling Belgian team turned one roundabout into a personal Sumo ring for full-contact scrummaging, a concept about which the local police were remarkably relaxed. It was a limited sample size, clearly, but based on the available evidence, World Rugby need to dedicate coaching resources to Belgium as a matter of grave urgency.
James Crombie / INPHO
James Crombie / INPHO / INPHO
Supporters ahead of the Champions Cup final. James Crombie / INPHO
James Crombie / INPHO / INPHO
Ulster fans lit up the town throughout Friday, most of them having travelled in hope rather than expectation. Montpellier are, in reality, closer to a Champions Cup contender than a Challenge Cup side, and their performance illustrated why they rightly have designs on winning the Bouclier this season.
And while the heat certainly contributed to Leinster’s apparent bouts of exhaustion even in their first half with Bordeaux, the conditions for Ulster’s Challenge Cup final were on a different level. A few laptops surely suffered water damage such was the sweat pouring from the brows of journalists even high up in the stand.
After a truly depressing weekend on the field, at least, the good news is that the sun has risen again. The bad news is that it also rises in Lyon, where temperatures over the past few days have been extremely similar to those in Bilbao. At the time of writing — roughly 9pm Irish — it is 34 degrees in France’s second city, which will host next year’s finals.
Perhaps the only solution for an Irish province is to plot an away run through the knockouts in search of acclimatisation. Leinster will try anything at this point. Many of their supporters, however, will tell you that they can’t keep trying this.
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Searing heat, Belgian scrums, and the last of the mojitos: a magical, miserable weekend in Bilbao
TRAIPSING THROUGH THE 33-degree heat in Bilbao on Sunday morning, one could have been forgiven for forgetting the European rugby finals had taken place in the Basque city over the two previous days.
Spanish cities are fairly quiet on Sundays anyway: retail stores and supermarkets are mostly closed. And even if they shared this writer’s interest in catching the second half of the Leinster Senior Hurling Championship game between Dublin and Kilkenny in Molly Malone’s pub, the Spaniards themselves are wiser than to wander around in such searing heat.
The eardrums were tickled now only by the echoes of the incessant UBB chants that had reverberated around these streets until the wee hours prior. There wasn’t a Bordeaux jersey to be seen, most of their supporters having begun the three-and-a-half-hour trip north for the homecoming.
Those who had taken with them to Bilbao their own colours — Toulouse, Munster, Biarritz, Leicester, amateur clubs from around the continent — were either back in civvies or nursing hangovers in rare spots of shade, reality beginning to loom.
Turning the corner onto Estraunza Kale Partikularra, then, brought with it mixed emotions. On the one hand, the three Leinster supporters sipping drinks on the plaza, the sleeves of their jerseys above their shoulders, were surely a sign that Molly Malone’s was only around the corner. On the other hand, their sadness was conspicuous from easily a hundred yards away. The last of the Mohicans or, in this instance, the mojitos.
They had booked themselves onto a late-evening flight home with the intention of exploring their beautiful surrounds. They had instead stranded themselves in a cauldron of despair. When mentioned to them that the Guggenheim Museum was about a 10-minute walk away, one of them laughed, “What’s the f***ing point in… contemporary art, anyway?” He was joking, but his momentary hesitation suggested that he had only just about stopped himself from asking what the point is in anything.
Sport is cruel, as Ciarán Frawley, a can of Heineken in hand, had put it in the mixed zone of Estadio de San Mamés on Saturday evening.
And yet, while they suffered the unfortunate flick off Hugo Keenan’s hand and a few callously French bounces along the way, this Leinster defeat by Bordeaux was notable for the degree to which it wasn’t actually unlucky. It was a new reality with which travelling supporters were forced to contend: the agony of past defeats gave way to something closer to resignation.
Plenty of them would have Leo Cullen resign now, even while couching such a wish with words of appreciation for an indisputable club legend. That the head coach himself seemingly attempted to cushion the defeat by stressing how great it was to partake in such an occasion left a sour taste with some; they had spent their money to watch Leinster perform and win, to banish the wicked feeling that has gnawed at their souls for years. The ‘occasion’ was more like… contemporary art.
Of course, Cullen and his players worked tirelessly to make it to Bilbao with the same intention. But that their effort in the game could not have been questioned poses a question of its own by extension: why did Bordeaux look like the psychologically better-prepared, technically better-coached team? An immediate URC quarter-final against the Lions means that Leinster will have little time to look inwards for that answer. They’ll instead have “turn the page”, as a few of their players noted post-match on Saturday (not a criticism — what the hell else could they have said?). But many Leinster supporters will have stuck a bookmark in Bilbao until at least the end of the current league campaign.
While the post-match press conference probably wasn’t the time or the place to gush about it, Cullen was actually spot-on about the occasion, to be fair.
European finals weekend is, for rugby, a unique celebration; a rainbow of jerseys, an almighty piss-up, and a festival of shite-talk between groups of people who might otherwise have no reason to converse but suddenly find themselves locked in a friendly debate as to whether Romain Ntamack’s best position might actually be 12.
Notable were the number of supporters representing clubs from non-traditional rugby countries. Late on Saturday night, for example, a travelling Belgian team turned one roundabout into a personal Sumo ring for full-contact scrummaging, a concept about which the local police were remarkably relaxed. It was a limited sample size, clearly, but based on the available evidence, World Rugby need to dedicate coaching resources to Belgium as a matter of grave urgency.
Ulster fans lit up the town throughout Friday, most of them having travelled in hope rather than expectation. Montpellier are, in reality, closer to a Champions Cup contender than a Challenge Cup side, and their performance illustrated why they rightly have designs on winning the Bouclier this season.
And while the heat certainly contributed to Leinster’s apparent bouts of exhaustion even in their first half with Bordeaux, the conditions for Ulster’s Challenge Cup final were on a different level. A few laptops surely suffered water damage such was the sweat pouring from the brows of journalists even high up in the stand.
After a truly depressing weekend on the field, at least, the good news is that the sun has risen again. The bad news is that it also rises in Lyon, where temperatures over the past few days have been extremely similar to those in Bilbao. At the time of writing — roughly 9pm Irish — it is 34 degrees in France’s second city, which will host next year’s finals.
Perhaps the only solution for an Irish province is to plot an away run through the knockouts in search of acclimatisation. Leinster will try anything at this point. Many of their supporters, however, will tell you that they can’t keep trying this.
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