for the first of the month, and no returns.
It is perhaps the only benefit of modern communications technology that this morning I was able to txt this age-old formula to the LittleDavys at Balclutha Polytechnic, complete with a triumphant “I win!”
Because winning against your offspring is one of the great evolutionary drivers of the last 2.4 billion years.
Anyways, having sent off the txt, I then sagged with anxious despair, because today is indeed the 1st of August, and we are in the downhill run towards RWC2015. It is like that moment from childhood, when you push off from the top of the hill in your new built trolley, rapidly collecting speed and knowing that it could all be thrilling or an utter disaster and it’s too late now so just hold on in grim determination.
By the end of this brand new month we will have played our last two tests against the Wallabies. We will have chosen our 31-man squad. (When I say “we”, I’m expecting Shag to give me a call any moment now.) A bunch of good players will have been told to go back to their provinces and keep fit playing in the NPC.
And Ned will be a puddle of anxious. It’s not going to be pretty folks.