Well, here we go again. New South Wales tomorrow and another miracle sought. I thought we stood up pretty well last week for 40 minutes, given the jet lag and so on, but the territorial stats at half-time in fact told a story of sheer desperation and building pressure. We just had to crack, and crack we did. It was disturbing to see our scrum being shunted the way it was. The inability of Kockott and Kankowski to clear from the base of the scrum was cause for despair.
Yet we have the players to take it tomorrow (as we've had the past three matches). Two of them we nearly took and should have taken. Yet missing is that elusive spark to set off the chemistry of a proper team effort, the communication and intuition that get you onto another plane of performance.
I like the thoughts of Hugh Reece-Edwards. What we need, he says, is a bit of traditional Natal gain-line rugby, a moving forward with the ball. Hear, hear! Add to that a bit of short passing while moving forward and we could be in business. So far our threequarters have been taking the ball flatfooted and crabbing sideways. Nothing on at all.
Attacking the advantage line brings to mind flyhalves like Butch James and Henry Honiball. The other night I was watching old footage of a Test match, and the Bok line was moving in a way we haven't seen it do for years. Yep, there was Honiball, pivot of the whole thing, breaking the line. Maybe Andy Goode is the answer we're looking for (that's if he can stay on the field more than five minutes before getting carded).
Otherwise we might as well just hire one of those mystics who slip the leaflets under our windscreen wipers, promising to bring zip to our sex lives, rich pickings at the horseraces, success in the courts and promotion at work – all of it done with a magic mirror. If Plummers and his assistants can't manage it, let's try the mystics and the magic mirrors.
The only thing to lift the gloom last weekend was some wonderful Six Nations rugby. France-Wales and Ireland-England produced displays that were nothing short of inspiring. Error-free rugby, ball-in-hand rather than ball-in-air – it was great stuff that could have gone either way in both games. Now it seems France are on a roll for the Grand Slam, Ireland for the Triple Crown. But just about anything can still happen.
Meanwhile, it's the end of an era. The Florida Road Rugby Colloquium meet at the Filler tonight for the last time. Is the Colloquium disbanding in disgust at recent performances? Are we leaving the Filler? Not at all – the Filler is leaving us. The place is relaunching next week with a new name. However, I'm assured that the Colloquium is still welcome and its traditions will remain intact: spitting olive pips down the barmaid's cleavage, bok-bok and the Florida Road feu de joie – a celebratory shooting out of the streetlights using catapults fashioned from the gals' knicker elastic.
Just one problem though. At present there's nothing to celebrate. But if we pull it off against New South Wales – call out the marines!
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