In the gents, this old Irish guy starts speaking to me. "Goingtodagametemorra?"One of the guys from work just nods politely. Nervous smile. Eyes dart longingly toward the exit as he stands there, not knowing what to say or do. He's a nice enough chap, but can't speak "drunken rugby fan" (in which I am clearly fluent).
I say to the Irishman, "I wish! Never get tickets to the decider over here. We'll just watch some of the earlier games at the pub."
"Whichpubsagoodcraick?
Werestardingdrinkenetnineaclocktemorra.
Whereshudwegotawochdaerlygames?"
"Nine a.m. hey? Price of Wales - a Wetherspoons - will be open then, but since it's a Spoons it won't have TV on. Try the large O'Neils on St Mary's St from around 11"
Anyway, we start talking about the game, and he reckoned that the only reason Ireland were doing well this year was because it was the first time, ever, that a Munster player had passed the ball to a Leinster player.
He then told me that this was his 15th trip to Cardiff to see rugby - but the first trip he'd been to where he saw anything other than the Stadium. He said that today was the first time he had seen Cardiff Bay or Cardiff Castle.
Get back to the table and my mate says "I did not understand a bloody word that he said".
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