r-l-w-c w-r-a-p: all is full of love

Ok these recaps are going to have to become so much more frequent. For a non-event, the Rugby League World Cup isn’t skimping on the pre-competition action.

Once I recovered from our night on the tiles with the Blarney Army after meeting the Wolfhounds last weekend – not with the players, of course … they have training to do, remember? - I realised that the World Cup was being completely hilarious and we were missing it.  Travesty.

Mick ‘Jan Brady’ Robertson has been off training with the Scottish team, eating haggis and being generally awesome about having to rock the kilt at formal occasions:

Looking forward to that, it will be a bit interesting I don’t think I have the legs for it.

DON’T UNDERSELL YOURSELF BABY!  You’ve got good knees and you know that’s really the main thing, right?

Note to Scotland: I hope they get matching vests too. Arrange that pls.

Actually, bloody everyone is turning out to be a bit lovable in this world cup.  It’s so confusingggg.  The French – those poor bastards – have now been moved from Caloundra to Canberra, but even they’ve managed to stay classy.   Eric Anselme said he was honoured.

… It’s good to be part of the facilities of the Raiders.  They are a very great club. I remember as a young guy in France I grew up watching Mal Meninga.

Seriously, bitches, how am I meant to cope with this?  I can’t handle it.  I have a hard enough time coping with torn loyalties in the NRL, and I hate half the teams in that.  There’s nothing worse than watching a team you like walk, heads bowed, from the field after a loss.  So what do you do if you like both teams?  I’M GONNA BE HAPPY/MISERABLE WHOEVER WINS.  Excuse me while I take a xanax.

My original World Cup plan was to take out my snark on the Aussie team and the poms.  Before you say anything, no this doesn’t make me a traitor.  Non-Aussies just often don’t understand the careful dynamics of Australian league.  And while I love my country, that love is almost almost outweighed by the fact that – as a New South Welshlady – I loathe Queenslanders.  Individually, they may be lovely, but on the field, they are nothing but dirty Queenslanders dressed in disgusting Maroon.  It’s Just Fact.

And the Aussie team is horrifyingly packed with them. At the Kangaroos Bondi training session, it was dirty Queenslanders beachside as far as the eye could see. They even outnumbered the sunburnt pommie tourists. BUT SIR, THEY’RE EVERYWHERE!

Billy Slater on a surfboard, Brent Tate practising mouth-to-mouth, Greg Inglis … being Greg Inglis.  Ok so I don’t know what he was doing but I KNOW HE WAS THERE. And perhaps, most disturbingly of all, Johnathan Thurston wearing inappropriate white boardies. Even Billy Slater won’t put up with that shit.

Really, mate? You went with white? I know we’re meant to be bonding but I’m just not comfortable knowing you quite this well.

[I'm assuming the lifesavers are proud New South Welshman and like us, loathe Dirty Queenslanders. Therefore may I suggest that they are not so much demonstrating mouth to mouth as attempting to suffocate Tate by using the burking method? I saw it on Law and Order once so it must be real. -K]

The only redeeming thing about the whole beach training fiasco was seeing Ron ‘the Cougar‘ Palmer – trainer for my babies, the Roosters – rocking out in his Official Aussie Team Budgie Smugglers.

No one is surprised Monaghan has to wear a rashie. The sun is not kind to rangas.

But then even those crafty Queenslanders won my heart. They unleashed their secret weapons in the form of Steve Price in his custom-designed Kangaroos bucket hat (HE JUST REALLY LIKES BUCKET HATS, OK?) and Scotty Prince, aka Prince Scotty the Caramel … and they were hugging. Game over, I’m done. I officially now don’t hate any team in the world cup. You adorable bastards.

But the real stars of the news this week are team Fiji. Media outlets are falling over themselves to pimp out the fact that the Fijians are staying in Woy Woy and drinking Sustagen Kava from plastic cups.  If I was feeling narky and English-majory today I would maaaaybe say that all this press interest has an air of ‘the noble savage’ about it, but instead let’s say that the Errol gals don’t need any convincing about how awesome Fiji is.  And not just cause we are oddly fond of Jarryd ‘Baby’ Hayne.

We love them almost as much as Andrew Johns loves Akuila Uate.  Uate is lining up for Fiji in the Cup, and Joey says:

In all my years in rugby league I’ve never seen a better athlete than this bloke … it’s all raw power.

And even though I’ve only seen him on the field once or twice, it does seem like he’s lining up to be a bigger, better Lote Tuqiri.  But, and this is where it gets a little weird:

You touch him and the muscle fibre is incredible. His vertical leap is phenomenal and the bloke has a backside you could sit a drink on. It’s frightening to think just how good he could be.

Why is this in the newspaper? Is Joey considered some kind of arse conoisseur, based in his own impressive booty? Is he the go-to man for arsenalysis? HOW DID THIS COME ABOUT?

… Sigh. Look, I hate when someone manages to be creepier than me.