The rugby yesterday was awesome. The Lions were amazing in places, outstanding at times, wonderful in general. Very impressive.

Yet not enough. Which is why they lost. Because to compete with the All Blacks you need to be all that, but ALL the time. Any lapse and its punished. As happened yesterday.

As I like to start the weekend with a different type of violence; just as gratuitous but more personal than just watching the rugby, I went to my Tai Chi class and recorded the match for later consumption. And when I decided to consume, I noticed that the ‘match programme’ on Sky had lasted 3.5 hours. An 80 minute game, 210 minutes of programme. Which breaks down as follows:

Pre-match bollocks: 40 minutes
Post-match bollocks: 40 minutes
Adverts: 50 minutes

(Note for purists; I omitted ‘half-time bollocks’ because its actual content is statistically insignificant compared to the adverts).

It was a wonderful match to watch. All Blacks games always are. Hard, fast and simply impressive, all across the pitch. The Lions had two instances where they just lost concentration, for which you cannot criticise them under all that pressure. Both times cost them tries. But the Kiwis just do a little bit more of absolutely everything. As Kieran Reed collapses at a maul under a heap of 18 stone forwards, he amazingly has the presence of mind to flick the ball up as he falls into the arms of his scrum half. Another try. Beauden Barret, the world’s best fly-half has to move to full back due to an injury and becomes the world’s best number 15.

The scary bit is not losing the match. Its that the Lions played so well, and still lost the match. If they’d been shit, improving would be simple.

This afternoon should be interesting. Lila needs to take a bottle. Not of gin, like her grandmother, but of milk. Something she’s been understandably reluctant to do. But needs to because her mummy (or as Lila calls her: ‘McDonalds’) wants to go to a wedding next weekend and that will be difficult without baby taking a bottle. So today me and Auntie Rachie are taking charge. The world’s two most irresponsible people left in charge of a starving (ish) child. But a man’s gotta do… or a wo-man.

God help us all.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx