A picture postcard
A folded stub
A program of the play
File away your photographs
Of your holiday

And your mementos
Will turn to dust
But that’s the price you pay
For every year’s a souvenir
That slowly fades away

Billy Joel’s short but poignant composition “souvenir”, written in 1974 for his Streetlight Serenade album, would seem to sum up perfectly the thoughts and feelings of many us as the 2023 Rugby World Cup comes to an end.

As the programmes, tickets, newspapers, scarves, and other mementos find their way into “that” drawer, the return to normal life seems a bit of a challenge on this dark Sunday morning.

Where Mr Joel may have been incorrect is in the final lines of his song. There are memories of this tournament that will definitely not slowly fade away, in fact they will gain momentum and exaggeration as the years go by.

That magnificent rendering of La Marseillaise in its spiritual home, when Les Bleus faced Namibia, will just get louder and more emotional in recollection than it actually was on that muggy, thundery, airless night at the Velodrome.

We certainly won’t forget Antoine Dupont’s zygomaticomaxillary complex fracture, although we may not remember how to spell it.

And what about Portugal’s win over Fiji in Toulouse ? there are rugby fans still stuck in the corner of bar Spot Lisboa on Rua Do Norte in Lisbon, desperately hungover and staring at a blank television screen in joyous disbelief.

I have no doubt that the memories of Amato Fakatva’s wonderful try for Japan against Argentina will gain in yardage over the coming years ,as will the number of opponents he beat on the way to the try-line.

On a cold wet winters morning , we may discover unexpectedly the odd Euro and metro ticket in our pocket, taking us back to that warm sunny bar in Marseille, or the cafe in Paris, where the waiter told us about the dangers of Tomas Ramos and bed bugs.

More importantly those friends and family we shared the moments with will ensure those memories don’t turn to dust, as tales of Paris, Lille, Lyon, St Etienne, Marseille, Nice and Nantes are recounted and re-lived over a beer or a glass of wine or two for years to come.

Rugby World Cup 2023 began in Paris on a hot, steamy, sun drenched late summer Friday, and ended in the very same city on a damp chilly October Saturday night. The final day coincided with the winter solstice when we turned the clocks back one hour, in reality what we desperately wanted to do was turn the clocks back seven weeks.

“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves”
William Shakespeare Julius Caesar – Act 1-Scene 2

It was France destiny to lift to 2023 Rugby World Cup trophy, but as William Shakespeare reminds us, it is always more terrestrial forces that decide the outcome of these matters.

A week on from France’ emotionally crushing defeat by South Africa, it is easier to take a more rational assessment of all matters blue, even if it is still just as painful.

That incredible match against South Africa has now been superseded by a Springbok victory over England, but there are many folk in France and beyond who still can’t quite believe what happened at Stade de France on Sunday 15 October, and I am one of them.

No matter how many times we watch a re-run of that fabulous match the final scoreline never changes, however much we will it to.

At midday last Monday the French squad checked out of the Renaissance Hotel in Rueil-Malmaison and headed to the Brasserie d’Auteuil, in the 16th arrondissement for a farewell gathering, the goodbyes were lengthy, there were a lot of sorrows to drown.

They now get at least ten days and restless nights off before resuming Top 14 duties with their clubs.

So what now for Les Bleus ?

Many of the current squad are young enough to go again in Australia 2027, Dupont, Ntamack, Bielle-Biarrey, Aldritt, Meafou, Vincent and Boudehent will be thirty or under at the next tournament.

Fabien Galthie is already back to work, he is contracted until 2028, and it has been confirmed that Rapahaël Ibanez (Manager), William Servat (Forwards coach) and Nicolas Jeanjean (Physical conditioner) will remain in post. The other positions are either yet to be decided or confirmed.

The 2024 Guinness Six Nations begins on February 5 when France face Ireland in Marseille. There will be no matches at Stade de France due to modifications needed to the stadium for its use as an Olympic venue in 2024.

France’s other home games will be against Italy in Lille, and in the final weekend of the tournament, England in Lyon.

For France their rugby ghosts of yesteryear still cannot rest. Blanco, Sella, and many other wonderful players fell just short of World Cup glory, and now we can add more great names to that unwanted list. The wounds are still raw, but maybe this indescribable hurt can fuel France for the next four years.

Antoine Dupont can steer this side right through to 2027, but his availability at the 2024 Guinness Six Nations appears to be unlikely.

The superstar scrum half and captain has had backing from club and country to enable him to fulfil his ambition to represent France at the Olympic Rugby Sevens tournament, this would mean stepping away from the fifteen-a-side game for an extended period. Talks are ongoing with all the parties involved as to the exact dates and timings of events, but it is looking certain that Antoine will be going for gold next summer.

So now is the winter of our discontent, but it could be made noble summer on the other side of the world in 2027, à bientôt.

A small part of Rugby World Cup 2033 died at the Stade de France last night, and that is meant as no disrespect to South Africa, Argentina, New Zealand and England, the remaining combatants.

For the last four years France have lived, breathed, eaten, slept and dreamed World Cup glory on their very own green green hybrid grass of home.

It came an abrupt and tearful end last night in the capital by the narrowest of margins, one single tantalisingly reachable point.

South Africa’s 29-28 victory was etched in the weary faces of commuters at Gare du Nord this morning as they sipped their takeaway espresso’s, staring in disbelief at a tearful Antoine Dupont on the front page of L’Equipe.

Just over two weeks ago I was sat in the press tribune at the Marseille Velodrome. It was a thundery, muggy Thursday night on the south coast, and France’ magical display of rugby wizardry left the capacity crowd in raptures.

The joy and elation that swirled around that magnificent stadium that night turned into a collective gasp of shock and horror as captain, scrum half and resident rugby genius, Antoine Dupont, left the field clutching his right cheek, a cheek that was already awash with his own tears. 

It felt to everyone looking on that his World Cup was over. The rugby world spent the next 24 hours looking up Zygomaticomaxillary complex fracture on Google search, looking in hope, rather than expectation, for a glimmer of good news to ease their fears.

A whole boat load of medical bulletins have passed under the Seine bridges since then, and amazingly last night, under the bright lights of Paris, just twenty-three days after surgery in Toulouse, the great man was back, and he and his esteemed colleagues were hoping to take a giant leap forward in their quest for Rugby World Cup glory.

The area around Stade de France had been buzzing since noon, a joyous colourful Sunday carnival, but as the sun set on a beautiful cloudless day defeat for France was not on the agenda.

The match itself was a throbbing brutal contest as expected, swaying back and forth and in doubt till the very last second.

The mostly home crowd ear splitting cheered every French success at scrum, line out and breakdown they did everything they could to get their boys over the line, but it wasn’t to be.

At the final whistle their were French bodies strewn across the field, prostrate, red-eyed, and utterly exhausted.

As the clock struck midnight the French fans had no interest in the fact that it was Monday morning and the start of the working week, they were crestfallen and by the look of it things will be moving very gingerly in the capital today.

For France they will wake up this morning with that awful feeling of stomach churning emptiness, they have thought about nothing other than winning this tournament. The stark reality will slowly hit that they now have to go back to normal life accompanied by that gut wrenching feeling that will take quite some time to dissipate.

A nation that has fallen in love with this team will put a collective arm around them, and they deserve nothing less, some would argue they deserve a lot more.

Merci les bleus

That glorious infuriating heart-stopping Welsh roller-coaster never ceases to amaze, frighten and astonish in equal measure.

Until the beginning of September it had been totally inactive, sat at the bottom of the track rusting away with nowhere further to descend.

On August 5th a bit of WD40 had been applied as Wales beat England in Cardiff. It had started to climb for the first time in a long while before defeats at Twickenham, and at home to South Africa, derailed it once again.

A full service was required, and by September 9 two minutes into the opening match against Fiji it purred for the first time in ages. A 31-26 bonus point victory had put it back on track.

A week later the roller-coaster proved its reliability against Portugal, before hitting the breath taking heights with a big big win against Australia. The ride upwards continued with a bonus point win against Georgia.

We were hoping for the ascent to continue, and for twenty-one minutes in Marseille it really did, but sadly that old Welsh roller-coaster had reached the top of its climb and it was downhill from there on in.

The Rugby World Cup fair is over for Wales, and the covers have been put back on, but there is optimism that come early February that infuriating, heart stopping part of all our lives will be fully operational once again.

Wales, thank you for the ride, diolch.

The Stade de la Beaujoire has painful connotations for Wales and their followers. I know of people in Llanelli that are still receiving counselling as a result of the final Rugby World Cup pool match that took place on the French Atlantic coast back in 2007.

That game in Nantes was a riot of rampant rugby, and the flying Fijians epic win sent Wales home with their tails, and various other parts of their anatomy, between their legs.

But before the flashbacks get too overwhelming, let’s fast forward to 2023. For Wales fans the rollercoaster they are so familiar with was closed for the weekend. Instead of the usual gut wrenching need of a win to qualify for the knock-out stages, it was a case of whether they would go to a Marseille quarter final as group winners or runners-up, which was probably just as well given their opponents, Georgia, are one of a long line of oval shaped banana skins that have taken the legs from under the men in red over recent years.

Wales and Georgia have a lot in common, they both have a population of around three million, and an historical tradition of vibrant coal and steel industries now sadly defunct.

With players in the starting line up plying their trade at Lyon, Toulouse, Brive, Toulon, Bayonne, Stade Francais and Biarritz, Georgia must have felt quite at home on the banks of the Loire.

But it was the boys from the banks of the River Taff that took home all the prizes, bonus point win, pool winners and unbeaten in the process.

Anyone predicting that a few weeks ago would have been given a wide berth and a very poor sanity rating.

A 43-19 win scoring six tries masks a period of the game where Georgia were in touching distance but Wales pulled away and in the end it was a comfortable victory.

A quarter final awaits next Saturday in Marseille where the opponents are likely to be Argentina or Japan.

Injury worries over Gareth Anscombe and Taulupe Faletau will be cause for concern but for now it’s job well and truly done for Wales.

Lyon I discovered is not a place for the gastronomically feint hearted. Bouchons are traditional lace-curtained, wood-lined little bistros particular to Lyon, a city often called the “stomach” of France. They began as local inns that sprang up to serve simple home-cooked meals to the 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 humble, 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, but not necessarily of good material, so my pre-match meal was of a much lighter variety.

Tonight’s Group A encounter between France and Italy was effectively a knock-out match, with the winner progressing to the quarter finals, and the loser heading out of the tournament.

Fabien Galthie’s men made their final road show stop at the Groupama Stadium, via Lille and Marseille, before heading north to join the bedbugs of Paris for the knock-out stages.

It took just over a minute for France to score their first try as their forwards steamrollered Italy to create a wonderful touchdown for none other than Damian Penaud.

The power, pace and accuracy of France was evident from minute one, and four first half tries gave them a bonus point after 37 minutes and a 31-0 Half time lead.

Roared on by a racous home crowd France started the second half as they did the first. Jalibert’s 46th minute try was followed by touchdowns from Mauvaka and a Moefana brace

Italy’s error count was as astronomical as France’ ruthlessness, and the final score reflected both elements. A late consolation try for Manuel Zuliani was a small crumb of comfort for the Azzuri.

Mendoza, nestling at the foothills of the Andes is one of Argentina’s most important and spectacular wine regions producing the Malbec grape. Its vineyards sit at high altitude and have become the adopted home of a French grape variety that failed to flourish in its homeland in quite the same manner.

The history of Malbec in Mendoza can be traced back to the 19th Century when cuttings were first brought over from France over to Argentina.

With Argentina facing Chile in Nantes the battle of two wonderful wine producing countries was bound to produce something tasty. Two tasty reds facing each other in the home of a delightful dry crisp white, if there were a wine World Cup then Malbec, Merlot and Muscadet would be a tough trio to beat.

The whine really flowed following the Pumas abject display in their opening match against England but they recovered with a 19-10 win over Samoa.

Chile have a different rugby pedigree but they have won many friends at this World Cup with their derring-do attitude, and to play their South American amigos at the Stade de la Beaujoire was something very special, an experience to recount to their children and grandchildren, tales that will no doubt get taller as the Merlot gets shorter.

This was the first ever Rugby World Cup match between two South American teams.

The beautifully named Perpignan centre Jerónimo de la Fuente captained the Pumas on the occasion of his 77th cap, and with players from Clermont, Toulon, Racing, Bordeaux and Toulouse in the Argentinian line-up there was plenty of home interest in this Latin rugby fiesta.

Chile may lack experience at this level, but with 27 players out of the 33 man squad playing for the same club, Selkham Santiago, they were certainly not short on familiarity.

An eight-try 59-5 victory in Nantes means the Pumas return to second in Pool D, level on points with Japan, who they will face next week, the winner of that match will qualify for the quarter finals.

But the biggest cheer of the day from the raucous Latin crowd came in the 73rd minute when Tomas Dussaillant crashed over for Chile’s solitary try.

The Condors fly home with their heads held high having made many new friends and admirers. There were a few glasses of Malbec, Merlot and Muscadet raised in the wonderful bars and restaurants of Nantes on Saturday evening to toast a colourful heart lifting occasion under beautiful warm sunny French blue skies. This is what the Rugby World Cup is all about.

Early Friday morning in Marseille, as I trudged wearily from the Vieux Port uphill to Gare St Charles for my train to Paris, the usual sunny blue skies had been replaced by grey somber clouds, dampness was in the air, it was as if light tears were falling from the sky.

As the lights of the cafés pierced the mirky gloom, the locals yawning wearily to work were talking in hushed tones about the match the night before, one that had given us all an emotional battering, taking us from wonderment, to concern to sadness, all in the space of eighty minutes.

On a day when Pope Francis was due to visit the southern port, there were more people than usual saying their prayers, most of them centred on one individual, Antoine Dupont.

There are certain participants in global sporting tournaments that stand head and shoulders above the rest. Jessica Ennis at London 2015, Pele at the 1970 FIFA World Cup, Zinedine Zidane at France 1998, their faces appeared everywhere and their involvement, the true greats that they are, enhanced those sporting landscapes.

The Rugby World Cup in France has Antoine Dupont adorning station concourses, bus shelters and every available billboard.

In the glory of France’ 96-0 win over Namibia, where Dupont was at his glorious best, a clash of heads with Namibia captain Johan Deysel, could have ended his tournament.

Friday’s front pages in France had only one story, and the image of the diminutive scrum half leaving the field of play in tears reached out from the news stands. Pope Francis had been relegated to page two.

The collective angst waiting for a medical diagnosis was unsurpassed, social media was awash with pleas for updates, fingers and toes were crossed for a medical outcome that would at least give the scrum half a chance of recovering in time for the latter stages of the tournament.

By Sunday the full chain of events had become clear.

Dupont was taken to the Private Hospital of Provence at 1am on Friday morning direct from the Orange Velodrome with the French team doctor and accompanied by his brother Clement following a police motorcycle escort.

He was desperate to see his team mates and returned to the France team hotel in Aix for breakfast where he managed,despite the pain, to digest some protein shakes and yoghurt.

Dupont then travelled from Aix to Toulouse where at 6pm he saw Professor Nicolas Sans,who after an MRI scan confirmed a Zygomaticomaxillary complex fracture resulting from blunt trauma to the peri orbital area.

At 11pm on Friday night, Dupont underwent surgery at the CHU Purpan hospital in Toulouse. A titanium plate was inserted by Professor Frédéric Lauwers, a surgeon specialising in maxillofacial traumatology who had already operated on Romain Ntamack after the double maxillary fracture he suffered in 2020. Dupont left the theatre at 2am.

There are hopes that the scrum half “could” be fit for the quarter finals, mere mortals take around six weeks to recover from this type of injury but as we all know “Toto” is way above mere mortal status.

More medical appointments are scheduled this week to discuss the option of wearing a protective mask, and Antoine will definitely return to limited training with the France squad on Thursday.

Maybe page two’s Pope Francis has had a quiet word with his boss, we shall find out in a few weeks time. A nation is holding its breath.

Wales and Australia have been familiar foes in the professional era. Having personally lived through many days of humiliation from Messrs Campese, Gregan, and the hundreds of Ella brothers, recent history has been somewhat kinder to the men in red.

Wales wonderful win over the Wallabies at the last Rugby World Cup was a truly memorable one, and yesterday in Lyon the two teams met once again to effectively decide qualification for the knock-out stages of RWC 2023.

Wales needed a win, any old win to guarantee a place in the quarter finals, but surely no one in their wildest dreams anticipated the performance that emanated from the men in red, and indeed the margin of victory.

Australia were poor, but Wales gave an eighty minute accurate, precise and intelligent performance, and after the year they’ve have had, on and off the field, this was bread of heaven and it fed us until it would have been greedy to ask for more.

The feast began after three minutes when a superbly executed try from Gareth Davies got Wales off to a flying start. A 16-6 half time lead built by the boot of Gareth Anscombe was a nice little cushion to build on in the second period, and boy did Wales build on it.

Nick Tompkins 48th minute try and the metronomic boot of Anscombe gave Wales a 32-6 lead with twenty minutes remaining.

This is normally the time when we Welsh retire to our default location, behind the sofa, peeping through our fingers, but for once, like a pit pony glimpsing daylight, we were drawn to a comfortable seat front of house basking in a victory that was already in the bag.

A 78th minute Jac Morgan try applied the coup de grace and Wales headed to the quarter finals with a game to spare.

Pre tournament no hopers to the the first guaranteed Quarter finalists is some journey, and whilst many Wales fans missed the start of this match stuck on the Lyon trams, there is no doubt that Wales are on track, and poor Australia have gone off the rails.

It is midnight at the Orange Vélodrome in Marseille, the distant twinkling lights high in the mountains behind the stadium flicker through a veil of thundery mist as Thursday night reaches gently into Friday morning.

France’s Rugby World Cup caravan came south tonight from Paris via Lille to the balmy Mediterranean, and what a welcome it received.

The African coast is the next southerly landmass from this ancient port, so it was fitting that the host nation entertained the African qualifier Namibia in this Group A pool match.

To hear “La Marseillaise” sung in Marseille is something very special. As stirring a national anthem as you could wish for.

When you hear it sung at the Stade de France, the hairs on the back of the neck stand on end and a shiver goes down the spine.

But I have noticed the further south the anthem travels, the more passionate it is sung. When it down gets here to the south coast it swirls and echoes around the Orange Vélodrome and with the mountain tops visible through the gaps in the grandstands, it is an utterly glorious experience and last night it was extra special.

The temperature also appears to affect the tempo that the anthem is played at. In Paris it can be slow, but it accelerates the further south it travels so by the time it has reached Marseille, the transformation from “largo” to “allegro” is complete.

Tempo was something the boys in bleu were anxious to stick to, following a tricky time up north against Uruguay in their last match.

A fervent capacity crowd roared France on from the start and the boys in blue responded with a 6th minute try from Damian Penaud. 13 tries later it was a 96-0 win for France.

In between we witnessed rugby from the gods, one handed spin passes from Dupont, sleight of hand and angles of running that would have had a maths teacher purring.

But those rugby gods can be cruel and Johan Deysel’s red card for a head shot on Antoine Dupont could be a massive downer on a massive win.

There’s a suspicion of a crack or fracture in his jaw,” Galthié said. “He’s gone for tests. We’ll wait for the results before moving forward. We need to take advantage of this great victory and the players’ fine performance.”

The concern over Dupont muted the celebrations down at the Vieux Port, and Galthie must be in torment for not taking him off at half time when France were leading 54-0, but for now after a wonderful show down south a nation holds its breath.