“The secret of life is to fall seven times and get up eight times”

Some of the rarest things in the world include unique gemstones like painite and pure blue diamonds, rare animals such as the Amur leopard and the Vaquita, and extremely rare elements such as Astatine.

Additionally, there are rare natural phenomena like the Sea of Stars and glowing forests.

In sporting terms, a Welsh rugby victory is on the same scale of rarity as rocking horse poo.

A well-known Japanese saying about rarity is “Ichi-go-ichi-e which translates to “treasure every encounter, for it will never recur in exactly the same way”.

Thankfully for Wales, this proved to be the case as they put the misery of last Saturday’s defeat to Japan behind them and made the second test an “Ichi-go-ichi-e moment.

Rome wasn’t built in a day and a Welsh victory has been in the building stage longer than Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia but finally after twenty-one months-644 days- it finally arrived in Kobe under the familiar settings of a closed roof.

It had a feeling of Tokyo revisited as Wales built up a decent 21-3 lead but similar to the previous weekend Japan came alive in the second half and with four minutes remaining Wales were clinging on to a 24-22 lead.

But this time the Dragons found their fire and instead of capitulating they roared forward and a delightful behind the back pass from Tane Plumtree sent Dan Edwards over the line.a

As Edwards converted his own try, a nation exhaled and began to breathe in the rare clean, embracing air of victory.

Does this win solve all or any of the problems in Welsh rugby ? Of course not, but everyone who loves and follows Cymru deserves to celebrate this victory.

Captain Dewi Lake’s Tokyo tears of sadness were replaced by tears if not of unadulterated joy, then most definitely ones of relief.

There will be plenty more optical precipitation shed in the near future, but for now Wales and its people can dry their eyes and even allow themselves the luxury of a mild grin.

さようなら Sayōnara

Halley’s Comet returns to Earth’s vicinity approximately every 75 years, making it possible for a person to see it twice in their lifetime. A Welsh victory is assuming similar proportions following a disappointing defeat to Japan earlier today.

Eight thousand miles away from their previous bitter heartbreaking embarrassing defeat in Cardiff to England, they hit new depths at Prince Chichibunomiya Memorial Stadium in the Aoyama district of central Tokyo.

An eighteenth consecutive defeat was earth-shattering for Welsh rugby fans, who have been witnessing a total eclipse in the winning stakes for what seems like a lifetime.

The BBC made a request to move forward the kick-off time, I imagine with a genuine concern for the health and safety of viewers in Wales.

The collective injury toll from half asleep victims operating kettles and coffee machine before the 6am kick off could well have placed unprecedented demands on the NHS accident and emergency departments. But Japan coach Eddie Jones decided otherwise and may well have blood on his hands.

The excruciating heat and humidity were undoubtedly a factor, but Wales after building up a 19-7 half-time lead were pointless in the second half in both senses of the word.

Wales took advantage of an ill disciplined and inaccurate Japanese side in the first half, scoring three tries through Ben Thomas, Tom Rogers and a penalty try. But in the second period they offered nothing and at the final whistle looked a demoralised and shell shocked outfit.

Japan’s seventeen unanswered second half points came from tries by Nakakusu and Vailea converted by Matsunaga and a penalty by Lee.

This latest Wales defeat puts them at a new low in the Word Rankings, placed 14th, below Japan and Samoa.

The sight of Welsh captain Dewi Lake in tears provided a snapshot of the desperation and sadness that has engulfed a proud rugby nation, and there appears to be no prospect of those emotions changing anytime soon. 

After victory in Perth on the western edge of Australia the Lions made the long trip coast to coast to the far east and to the third most populous city in Australia Brisbane, a journey of some 4,225 kilometres, a forty-six-hour drive or a four and a half hour flight. Luckily, the Lions chose the latter.

The whole squad devastated by the news that Tomos Williams’ tour is over with a hamstring tear had to quickly regain a sharp focus on matters in hand, namely their second tour match against Queensland Reds at the Suncorp Stadium.

Going coast to coast over this vast country incurs a time difference. Brisbane is two hours ahead of Perth, and even this relatively small adjustment when added to previous jet lag can disrupt the body’s circadian rhythm.

In the wild, Lions sleep between sixteen and twenty hours a day, But in the rugby jungle there is no time for slumber that will come after the fight. 

With thirteen changes to the team that beat Western Force in Perth, continuity and familiarity were inevitably going to be in short supply and as in the first game of the tour the first half was clunky.

The opposition scored a try in the opening seven minutes as was the case against Western Force and Déjà vu continued when the Lions created beauty and precision in a dominant second half.

Repetitions and time on the training field will only improve this side, as much of the tour so far has been taken up with travel and administration. But there is no doubt the raw materials are there.

 Maro Itoje looked a true Lions captain, leading by example and being involved in many key moments. The youthful irritations of screaming with joy at every successful ruck and maul appear to have been replaced by cool, calm intelligence that his troops respect and follow.

As the World Wildlife Fund declared a new endangered species, the Welsh Lion, it was wonderful to see Jac Morgan in sparkling form and justifiably awarded the man of the match award.

So the Lions move on to Sydney with 106 points from the opening two games, including 16 tries. The only fly in the ointment is the injury to Elliott Daly. He left the field in the 67th minute, grimacing with pain from an arm injury.

Daly has been faultless so far on tour and has definitely put his name forward for a starting test place, as was the case with Tomos Williams last Saturday. One only hopes the outcome of his injury does not have the same end result.

The Top 14 season that began on 7 September 2024, ended last night close to midnight after nine months and twenty-eight weekends it finally decided to call it a day.

The Top 14 Final is a rugby and cultural event like no other. It is Mardi Gras and Oktoberfest all rolled into one.

From early morning the TGVs roll into Gare de Lyon and Gare Montparnasse with their colourful human cargo disembarking and immediately heading for a station buffet espresso with the speed and footwork of Louis Bielle-Biarrey.

The day of the final is an extremely long one with kick off post 9 p.m. Wherever you go in the French capital on the day of the final there are lines of families in team shirts sitting out in geometric lines of cafe tables as far as the eye can see soaking up the sun’s rays amid the wafting aroma of steak frites.

The glass carafes of red, white and rosé glisten in the sun. This is as much a part of final day as the match itself, and just as grueling, with cheese and coffee and maybe even a brandy to get through before setting off for Stade de France with a heavy heart an even heavier stomach and a much lighter wallet.

If you have never been to Paris for a Top 14 final, I would recommend you add it to your bucket list.

Paris on a June summer’s night the temperature a simmering thirty degrees at 9pm and an intoxicating rugby occasion at Stade de France is truly one of life’s pleasures.

This Top 14 Final between Bordeaux and Toulouse two teams who are no strangers to matches of this magnitude will be remembered for a very long time.

As colourful sporting occasions go this was blindingly vivid, a feast for the senses in colour and sound enhanced by the speed of Penaud, the elegance of Ntamack and the raw and brutal collisions where Big Ben and Massive Meafou instead of swapping jersey’s exchanged rib cages.

A penalty from Bordeaux scrum half Maxime Lucu in the 80th minute brought the scores level at 33-33 and forced the contest to go to extra-time

In those red hot nerve jangling added twenty minutes the ice cool Thomas Ramos landed two penalties to give Toulouse victory (39-33) and their third consecutive Top 14 title.

The 78,534 present witnessed a pulsating contest as the lead changed hands on six occasions. When Toulouse established a ten point lead (33-23) with fourteen minutes remaining it looked game over but Bordeaux had other ideas and a 69th minute try from Petti Pagadizabal converted by the immaculate Lucu brought the defect back to three points.

Saturday night reached over to Sunday morning as the midnight hour passed whilst Julian Marchand lifted the Bouclier de Brennis a trophy the size and shape of a wardrobe door.

For Toulouse a dark season that has been touched by tragedy and blighted by injuries had finally seen some sunshine and there were many tears shed by players and staff alike.

So the Top 14 and the season that never ends finally ended but we do it all again in the blink of an eye when the teams start their pre season training next month. Oo La La !

“Mad Dog”, whose real name is Adrian, became somewhat of a cult figure in the eastern suburbs of Perth for his exploits over the past 30-odd years.

I guess Adrian is not the kind of name that reeks of terror hence the Mad Dog nom de plume.

A rugged character with a famously foul mouth, he could be seen, and more evidently, heard, riding his bicycle barefoot around the Midland area engaging verbally with people and vehicles.

But It reached a point where folks with far too much time on their hands were following him to wind him up and get a reaction, they even turned  up at his house. As a result Adrian became less visible over the years.

Today at Optus Stadium the mad dogs of Western Force and the British and Irish cross-breeds went walkies, and it was the big cats who emerged top dogs 

After defeat to Argentina in Dublin a win was essential to get the official tour on the road and start to build momentum and cohesion for the upcoming test series against the Wallabies.

The Lions had met Western Force just once before, winning 69-17, at Patersons Stadium in 2013.

There were eight Irish international in that Lions team back in 2013 the same number as were present on Saturday.

The sky over Perth turned a deep crimson just as the British & Irish Lions thundered onto the pitch, a fitting backdrop for a team that arrived like a coming storm. Eight tries later, any nerves about rusty combinations and opening-night cobwebs had been swept away.

For a brief heartbeat, Western Force had their moment — a glimmer of resistance when veteran scrum-half Nic White darted over in the fourth minute to cancel out Dan Sheehan’s first minute opener. The home crowd stirred, but that was as close as the Australians got to parity. What followed was a second half performance dripping with tempo, touch, and thunder from Andy Farrell’s side.

Finn Russell the Scottish sorcerer was throwing passes with more flair than a magician at a kid’s party.

Cross-kicks, flicks, maybe even telepathy. One minute he was directing traffic, the next he was smiling hands on hips watching Daly finish off his latest masterpiece.

Henry Pollock the twenty year old who looks twelve was everywhere and involved In everything, tackling like a dad trying to get to the BBQ before the rain, he also got a yellow card for being too enthusiastic at the breakdown.

There is plenty to work on nonetheless. The lineout wobbled. The penalty count ticked too high, restarts were not collected and concern lingers around Tomos Williams, who limped off with what looked like a hamstring strain.

The Welshman’s two tries underlined a thoroughbred performance and we can only hope the prognosis reveals something relatively minor with a short recovery span.

But the Lions are up and running and the show has only just begun.

There’s something ancient in the way a British & Irish Lions tour begins.

It starts with a quiet rustling—whispers in rugby clubs from the Welsh Valleys to the Irish pubs of Limerick, in the granite towns of the Scottish Highlands and the rain-soaked lanes of northern England. There, in the corners of old bars and living rooms, people speak in reverent tones. “This might be the year,” someone says. “A new squad. A new land. A new chance.”

And then the names are called. Not just names, but dreams: Legends and upstarts, warriors and poets in the same breath. They’re not playing for just a nation now—but for four. For a legacy. For a red jersey that binds them in something greater than identity. A shirt that holds the sweat of McBride, the fire of Edwards, the bone-cracking grit of Johnson.

When the squad gathers, it’s a brotherhood forged from rivalries.

They arrive not as enemies, but as familiar strangers. Englishmen who once battered Irishmen in Six Nations slugfests now stand shoulder to shoulder in an Australian sunrise. Scots who once cursed Welsh counters now laugh over boots caked in the same foreign mud. There are jokes about accents. Banter sharp as a hooker’s throw. But beneath it all—trust begins to grow.

Training is war. Not against the opposition, but against expectation. Every pass, every ruck, every scrum in the camp is a reckoning. You’re not just playing for yourself anymore—you’re fighting to prove you belong in that jersey. The red one. The one that carries ghosts.

The Lions aren’t just a team. They are a myth that breathes. A tale told every four years that somehow always feels eternal. Wherever they tour—be it the high veldt of South Africa, the gold-cloaked fields of New Zealand, or the harsh edges of Australia—they are received like an invading storm. Admired. Hated. Respected.

And on match day, when the stadium trembles with anticipation, there is silence before the roar.

The red jerseys file out. The opposition stares them down. Locals chant. Flags fly. Yet when the anthem rings—not one, but many—something extraordinary happens. The Irish hum their hearts into “Ireland’s Call.” The Scots remember “Flower of Scotland.” The Welsh feel the pull of “Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau.” And the English—stoic, proud—tighten their shoulders with the memory of “God Save the Queen” or now “God Save the King.” But all that melts into one collective breath as the Lions stand together—not singing a song, but being the song.

Every match is a bruising glorious dogfight. You’ll see knees taped like scaffolding, eyes swollen, and breath taken in painful gasps. There are tackles that shake ribs. But then—magic. A flick off the boot. A break on the wing. A moment of brilliance that cuts through brutality like a hymn in a storm.

And win or lose—when it ends—something lingers.

Opponents come over and shake hands not out of duty, but with the weight of what just happened. They know what the Lions are. Not tourists. Not mercenaries. But messengers of an idea: that unity forged through rivalry can produce something greater than the sum of its parts.

Back home, pubs erupt. Boys and girls in playgrounds spin imaginary passes and wear oversized red jerseys. Old men cry in armchairs. Former Lions watch through clenched fists, reliving the ache of old tours. And for a few glorious weeks, the sport feels closer to a saga than a game. This is not just rugby. This is the roar that crosses oceans.

Lyon I discovered quite some time ago is not a place for the gastronomically feint hearted. Bouchons are traditional lace-curtained, wood-lined little bistros particular to a city often called the “stomach” of France.

They began as local inns that sprang up to serve simple home-cooked meals to Lyon’s silk workers (les canuts), in the 18th century. By the period between the world wars, the bouchons were run by “les meres” formidable women who had worked as cooks for the wealthy bourgeois families of the region.

Their menus were local, their tables check-clothed, with humble rooms, and relatively small bills.

The bouchon is all about tradition. Their ethos is that to dine properly, you must surrender to the god of pork fat, giving yourself over to it with full heart and empty belly. Well my heart is probably fairly full already, and not necessarily of health inducing material as I genuinely await a cardiology appointment, so my pre-match meals are of a much lighter variety, but I digress.

On the menu this weekend at Lyon’s sold out Groupama Stadium were two mouthwatering Top 14 semi-finals starting on Friday night with Toulouse v Bayonne.

58,741 perspiring souls watched the brave Basques give everything against a Toulouse side who by their standards are not exactly purring at the moment.

Fly half Joris Segonds’ six penalties kept Bayonne in touch, but their inability to convert a try scoring opportunities until the 84th minute proved to be their undoing.

Toulouse on the other hand took their limited chances with tries in the 12th and 33rd minute from Ntamack and Graou.

After the disappointment has subsided, Bayonne will be delighted with their season overall and can make the long 736 km journey home with their heads held high.

Twenty-four hours later it was the turn of Union Bordeaux Begles and Toulon to battle it out in the second semi-final.

With temperatures touching 31 degrees at the 9pm kick off time, Bordeaux’s star-studded back line were ready to turn up the heat, but it was hat trick hooker Maxime Lamothe who stole the show with three touchdowns.

Toulon were in contention at half-time following a try from Faingaanuku in the 40th minute that made the score 15-10 at the interval. Toulon Full back Melvyn Jaminet was in sparkling form, but Bordeaux were superior in all facets of the game and never looked like losing.

With Bordeaux leading 39-17 and twenty minutes remaining, they were cruising to victory. A 79th minute try by Gigashvili converted by Jaminet made the scoreline a little more respectable for Toulon.

So next Saturday night in Paris the Top 14 Final will be a repeat of last year’s showpiece which took place in Marseille as Stade de France was being prepared for the 2024 Olympic Games.

Bordeaux appear to be at the height of their powers whilst Toulouse one could argue are looking a shade below their best, hampered of course by injuries to star men Dupont, Mauvaka, Capuozzo and co. But you write them off at your peril.

Pumas are extremely athletic and are built for sprinting. They can run up to 50 mph over a short distance. The puma doesn’t have any natural predators in the wild. However, some pumas will have to compete for prey with large powerful predators including wolves and black and brown bears.

A Lion’s roar can be heard up to five miles away and can reach 114 decibels – that’s almost as loud as a chainsaw! They sleep around 20 hours a day and consume 7kgs of meat daily fortunately Andy Farrell’s ‘Pride’ are a bit more active and a bit less carnivorous.

However next Saturday night in Dublin the battle of the big cats takes place at the Aviva Stadium, the following day the British & Irish Lions touring party will jet off to Australia for their much anticipated 2025 tour.

An opportunity to see the Lions play on these shores is rare and one that many rugby fans will be overjoyed to have the opportunity to experience however with around fifteen of the squad unavailable due to the proximity of domestic finals it does somewhat devalue the fixture but maybe I’m just being churlish.

Argentina will also be missing a few stars due to the Top 14 knock out stages and due to recovery from the Gallagher Premiership final.

The lions spent most of last week on the Algarve at the Quinta Do Lago resort in Almancil bonding in glorious sunshine on Portugal’s southern coast. With three golf courses on site I’m happy to report that no one should be feeling under par on their flight to Dublin.

The Lions and the Pumas are not facing each other for the first time in these islands.

Clive Woodward’s British & Irish Lions wanted a warm-up match in 2005. They offered Argentina the opportunity of playing in Cardiff on May 23. Argentina accepted knowing that the date was far from ideal with many of their players involved in various cup finals around the globe.

Argentina were missing twenty-six front line players but managed to earn a creditable 25-25 draw and a moral victory against a lack lustre Lions team whose blushes were spared by 20 points from the boot of Jonny Wilkinson.

British & Irish Lions 25 (16) Tries: Smith Cons: Wilkinson Pens: Wilkinson 6

Argentina 25 (19) Tries: Piossek Cons: Todeschini Pens: Todeschini 6

Lions: G Murphy; D Hickie, O Smith, G D’Arcy, S Williams; J Wilkinson, G Cooper; G Rowntree, S Byrne, J Hayes; D O’Callaghan, D Grewcock; M Corry, L Moody, M Owen (capt).
Replacements: S Thompson, J White, B Kay, L Dallaglio, C Cusiter, R O’Gara, S Horgan.

Argentina: B Stortoni; J Nunez Piossek, L Arbizu, F Contepomi (capt), F Leonelli; F Todeschini, N Fernandez Miranda; F Mendez, M Ledesma, M Reggiardo, P Bouza, M Sambucetti, F Genoud, M Schusterman, J-M Leguizamon.
Replacements: E Guinazu, L de Chazal, M Carizza, S Sanz, F Bosch, L Borges, L Lopez Fleming

Referee: S Dickinson (Australia)

Friday night in Dublin will hopefully be an entertaining and perhaps more importantly an injury free affair as the Lions fly out to Australia the following day.

Playing in the Top 14 in France is a bit like painting the Forth Bridge, once you get to the very end, it is time to start again at the beginning.

A tournament that started on 7 September 2024 finished its league stage last night will now proceed to a knock-out format until it reaches the final in Paris on 28 June.

All this weekend’s Round 26 matches kicked off at the same time, 9pm (CET) in the interests of transparency. There was still plenty to play for, with the only certainty before the mass kick off’s began being the fact that Toulouse had topped the table and were guaranteed a semi-final in Lyon on 20/21 June, whatever happened on Saturday night.

The other guaranteed semi finalist still had to be settled, with only two teams in the frame, Bordeaux and Toulon.

With Bordeaux defeating bottom of the table Vannes they achieved second place in the table and along with it that other prized semi-final berth in Lyon.

Clubs ending up in the table between fourth and sixth will now play off in the ‘Barrages’ with the winners earning the two remaining semi-final spots… still with me ?

Well the outcome of a very late night in the Republic saw Toulon, Bayonne, Clermont and Castres qualifying for the barrages.

Following an intense night of action, Vannes were relegated to Pro D2 They will be sadly missed next season, as will their unique Breton identity and the warm welcome given to all and sundry at the ‘Rabine’.

Their place in the Top 14 will be taken by Montauban, who beat Grenoble 24-19 in the Pro D2 final.

Grenoble will now face the Top 14’s 13th place side Perpignan, who beat Toulouse 42-35 last night, with the winner getting a coveted top division spot for the 2025/2026 season.

So the knock-out stages of the top tier begin.

On Friday Bayonne face Clermont in the Barrages with the winner of that match playing Toulouse in the first semi-final in Lyon on Friday 20 June.

Next Saturday’s Barrage sees Toulon entertain Castres at the Mayol with the victor facing Bordeaux in the second Lyon semi on Saturday 21 June.

The final Top 14 table makes interesting reading La Rochelle missed out on the knock-out stages by a single point.

There will no doubt be plenty of spills and thrills ahead before the Final in Paris on Saturday 28 June.

The season that never ends is only just getting started.

Scarlet Fever is a terrible affliction, I first contracted it in October 1972, but the outcome was not All Black and the 9/3 chance of survival went in my favour.

Back in the olden days when I was young, Llanelli were the knock-out kings. They won the Welsh cup, which alternated in title between Schweppes, SWALEC, Konica Minolta, and Principality on ten occasions between 1985 and 2010, including four in a row between 1973 and 2010. 1976.

The knock-out kings also reached two European Champions Cup semi-finals, losing both to Northampton and Leinster respectively.

Then in 2017 the knock-out glory days returned with a bang with the men in red winning the Pro12 and in the process defeating Leinster in a semi-final in Dublin followed by victory over Munster in the final. This remarkable Dublin double is now permanently etched in Scarlet folklore.

Yesterday, those from West Wales and the exiled global fever suffers were hoping that lightning would strike twice, albeit with an eight-year gap between the flash and the bang.

But 2025 proved to be absent of any cumulonimbus activity and the charged activity emanating from the blue wave eventually washed away any Scarlet hopes of a repeat of that epic result in 2017, but boy were they were made to work for it.

Two Leinster tries in the opening nine minutes looked ominous for Scarlets, and there were plenty sitting in the Dublin sunshine thinking this may be a rout. But a try from Tom Rogers in the nineteenth minute and a length of the field effort on minute forty from Blair Murray meant there was only one point between the teams at half-time.

An early second half try from Osborne extended Leinster’s lead to 22-14, and Hugo Keenan’s unconverted effort made it 27-14 on 59 minutes.

Prendergast added a 65th minute penalty pen, but Scarlets refused to lie down, and a wonderful move ended with Johnny Williams touching down near the post Costelow’s conversation made it 30-21 and with ten minutes remaining you felt the game with a bit of Carmarthenshire sorcery could still be there for the taking, but another Prendergast pen on 73m sealed it for Leinster

Scarlets can go back across the Irish Sea with their heads held high they have qualified for next season’s Investec Champions Cup and their performances towards the latter part of the season have given a swell of optimism for next season on the field.

Off the field off course is a different matter in the turbulent world of welsh rugby administration but for now the Scarlet faithful can take pride in their knocked out knock out kings and there are worse places to drown your sorrows than Dublin