The Guinness Six Nations is the greatest annual international rugby Championship in the sport, and every year delivers truly unmissable experiences to fans all over the world. In 2022, the Championship title came down to the wire, culminating in a game for the ages, in Paris, where France claimed an historic Grand Slam.

This year, fans can look forward to another scintillating Championship, with storylines and plot twists waiting to be written by the teams and players, over five rounds of action, starting on February 4^th, at the Principality in Cardiff before all roads lead to another blockbuster Super Saturday, with the final game between Ireland and England on Saint Patrick’s Day Weekend.

At the 2023 Guinness Six Nations Championship launch held in London’s County Hall Ben Morel, CEO of Six Nations Rugby, commented: “The Guinness Six Nations holds an incredibly special place in the sporting landscape and with fans all over the world. The Championship offers fans the chance to experience some of the best teams and players going head-to-head, on an annual basis, in must win Test matches. Combine that with the unique heritage of the Six Nations and the rivalries that are woven into the fabric of the six nations competing, and you start to scratch the surface in explaining why the Guinness Six Nations is such an eagerly anticipated and loved moment in time, each year.

“We have a huge responsibility at Six Nations Rugby to not only respect the precious nature and heritage of its Championships but ensure their continued growth and development. There is also the unrelenting commitment to deliver truly unmissable experiences for fans. This is what drives the entire team

“This commitment is underpinned by unwavering collaboration with all Six Nations Rugby stakeholders, including each union and federation, its broadcast and commercial partners and the media, who all play a part in telling the compelling storylines to fans.

This year’s Guinness Six Nations holds a personal poignancy for me, as it will be my final one as CEO of Six Nations Rugby. My five years in the role has been a humbling and defining experience and I am filled with pride for the achievements of the organisation, alongside each of the unions and federations. It has been a privilege to be a custodian of the role, but my work is not done yet, and go into the 2023 Championships truly excited for what is in store for fans.”

In a Rugby World Cup year the Six Nations takes on added significance, and the tournament that guides us from the depths of winter to the start of Spring promises to be a cracker.

As a Welshman growing up in the seventies, it was taboo to idolise any England player, fortunately at that time, England were a bit of a sorry mess so it wasn’t that difficult to hold true to those core values.

But there was one exception.

On a winters Saturday in January 1973, the Welsh nation lost their moral compass, and fell in love with David John Duckham.

The match in question, of course, was the Barbarians v New Zealand at Cardiff Arms Park.

He played on the right wing that day, in his number 14 shirt, and his Coventry club socks, he entranced us with a display, that in history, has been somewhat overshadowed by THAT try, scored by a certain knight of the realm, Sir G.O Edwards.

I was in the North Enclosure that day, a fourteen year old schoolboy, as Duckham swerved, sidestepped, and wrong footed everyone, his long blonde hair flowing in the breeze, like a viking warrior,as his 6ft 1in frame, graced the field of dreams that was Cardiff Arms Park.

Now when I say he side stepped everyone ! take a look at the DVD of the match, in one move, he sends the BBC camerman the wrong way, Duckham, ball in hand dummied, the camera went to right, and David disappeared out of shot to the left.

David Duckham won 36 caps for England, his first against Ireland in 1969, and his last in 1976 against Scotland, at Murrayfield.

He scored 10 tries for England, but it was under the guidance of Carwyn James, as a British Lion, on the tour to New Zealand in 1971, that we saw the talent and the breath taking running skills that were so evident in that Barbarians match.

On the 71 Lions tour he scored eleven tries in sixteen games.

Against West Coast Buller, on 16 June 1971, he scored 6 tries, a Lions record that still stands to this day.

His form on the tour resulted in him playing in 3 Lions test v New Zealand on that famous tour, keeping Wales’ John Bevan out of the test side, which was no mean feat.

The ultimate compliment, from Wales, and its rugby fans, was bestowed on David Duckham after the Barbarians v New Zealand match, he was forever referred to, from that day onwards as “Dai” Duckham, an honour that he cherished, so much so that he titled his autobiography “Dai For England”

Dai, it was an honour, and a privilige, to watch you play.

The winters are dark and cold in this part of the world, the daylight is in short supply during the days following Christmas, it is a bleak time for everyone, everyone that is apart from rugby fans.

For us it is the rebirth of the sporting year, and the start of the weekly countdown to the first weekend in February when the 6 Nations tournament begins.

The tournament starts in the depths of winter, and takes us through to the weak sunshine and gentle warmth of early spring, when the tournament concludes in the middle of March.

February 14th, which is of course Valentines day, sits perfectly in the middle of the tournament, so for the romantically inclined what could be a better way to show your undying love for your partner than to take them away for a 6 nations weekend.

But I would offer a word of caution, I would suggest you inform “your other half” that rugby is involved before you travel, I have witnessed couples in Paris having a “domestic” as the non rugby partner is informed, over coffee and croissants on saturday morning, that a large part of the romantic weekend ahead in the city of light will taken up at Stade de France watching an international match.

But the 6 nations is about far more than just rugby, it’s about making and renewing friendships, it’s about the history, it’s about the fans, the wonderful memories of 6 nations weekends past, and those wonderful ones yet to come.

Memories of matches and weekends shared with family, loved ones, and friends, some of whom are sadly no longer with us, come flooding back, and their spirits are with us this at time of year, as we prepare to enjoy a winter sporting festival like no other.

The 6 nations weekend has a heartbeat, a soul, it is a living entity, that has been enjoyed and handed down from generation to generation.

Uncles, fathers, grandparents cousins, have all taken pride in guiding their offspring on their first 6 nations weekend, and those youngsters who have taken over the baton, keep the traditions alive, and when the time comes, they will take their young on a similar rite of passage, and that is why the 5 Nations, as it was, and the 6 nations as it is now, is so unique.

Only in this tournament would you find a middle-aged Englishman wearing a Roman centurion outfit sitting outside a cafe and calmly enjoying a beer in the Piazza Navona.

Each wonderful host city has its own unique atmosphere, sight, sounds and smells.

Whether it’s welsh fans dressed in dragons costumes under the Eiffel Tower, English fans masquerading as medieval knights handing out roses to the scary French riot police, or Italians meeting their ancestors at one of the plethora of Italian restaurants in Cardiff, the joy and friendliness of the tournament are plain to see ,which ever match you happen to attend.

Add to that the kilted Scots sitting around the fountains at Trafalgar Square, with their whisky filled hipflasks to keep out the cold, the Irish a sea of green in leprechaun hats clutching a pint of the black stuff, or the stylish French looking cool in their shades, whatever the weather, and whatever the venue, you begin to get a feel of what a thrill to the senses this tournament really is.

Cardiff is the only city where supporters can watch the game, celebrate, and collapse into bed all within the distance of a Leigh Halfpenny goal kick.

The Principality stadium is squeezed in between the flats, shops, houses and pubs right in the heart of the city centre, and more importantly in a country where rain is a frequent, if not permanent resident , it has a roof.

Cardiff is also the home of Brains Brewery, whose products are rather popular on rugby weekends, one their products is a beer called “Brains SA” the locals will tell you that  “SA” stands for skull attack, which informs you all of you need to know about the side effects of this particular beverage.

Talking of beer, Dublin is of course the home of the silky smooth black stuff, Guinness, and the most popular excursion for 6 Nations fans visiting the Irish capital, is a tour of the Guinness brewery where you actually get a free sample.

The French fans simply adore Dublin, they fly over in the thousands to watch Ireland face “Les Bleus” they used to bring live cockerels with them and release them on the field of play, obviously this is now outlawed, or it may just be that chickens find Air France air fares a bit too expensive these days.

The Irish will charm you, entertain you, smile and then kick the living day lights out of you on the rugby field, there aren’t many more hospitable capitals on this planet than Dublin, as any 6 nations fan who has been there will happily tell you, once they have recovered from their lack of sleep and mind numbing hangover.

Rome is the 6 Nations “new kid on the block” as Italy did not join the tournament until the year 2000 and the shock for fans here, especially those from Scotland, is that you are likely to experience sunshine, now a famous Scotland player once told me that Scots are born with blue skin, and it takes them three weeks in the sun to even turn white, so the Tartan Army are easily to spot, not only because they are wearing kilts, but due to the fact that they are all clutching bottles of factor 50 sun cream.

Italy joining the 6 Nations created an added pressure for the regular 6 nations fans, and  there is a big downside the Azzuri’s inclusion.

Partners, wives, girlfriends and boyfriends who previously had no interest in rugby, and could be visibly seen yawning when you even mentioned the word , suddenly took a rather disturbing interest in the game, when they discovered that joining you on a potential weekend to the Eternal City was a distinct possibility.

Rome is a venue like no other, no tradition or historical rugby hang ups here, it is the brash teenager of 6 Nations rugby, and is determined to enjoy La Dolce Vita whatever the result.

A colleague, when in Rome for an Italy v England match, told me of a time he found himself standing at a set of traffic lights in Rome, when he suddenly became aware of a twelve-inch sword being waved in his face, wielded by a local man uttering threats in a deep loud Italian voice.

A few seconds later his “assailant” reassured my friend that the sword was made of plastic and gave him a “high-five” and a “Ciao baby” and went on his merry way.

If Rome is the brash teenager then Twickenham, the bastion of Englishness, is the grumpy old grandfather, but even so is a shrine for visiting fans, and a shrine that obviously makes visitors extremely thirsty.

At the England v Ireland match in 2014 160,000 pints of beer,were sold at the stadium, another victory over the Welsh who only managed a mere 77,184 pints in Cardiff at a match between Wales and France.

As you walk from Twickenham station to the ground, every inch of pavement is filled with providers of fast food frying their wares, as the aroma of burgers, sausages and onions fill the air with a smokey haze you can almost touch the cholesterol.

For Welsh fans the favourite trip is Edinburgh, this all started due the fact that until 1977, the matches at Murrayfield were not “All Ticket” so people paid at the gate, as a result the Welsh always travelled in heavy number.

It is a like a red tsunami flowing down Princess street as the Scarlet hordes make their way to Murrayfield framed by the beauty of the castle, and the Scott Monument.

Things went horribly wrong in 1977 when at least 110,000 were squeezed into Murrayfield for Scotland v Wales, and it was a miracle that no one was seriously injured, and since that day, Scotland matches became ticket only affairs.

That weekend trip to see Wales play Scotland in Edinburgh was perceived to be a test of manhood undertaken by many generations of Welsh fans.

The journey to this game was known as “The Killer”, leaving Cardiff at 2100 on Friday night, the train would arrive in Edinburgh at 0700 on Saturday morning, the return journey commenced immediately following the match, with the train leaving Edinburgh at 2100 on Saturday night, and arriving in Cardiff at 0500 on Sunday morning, it was not a journey for the faint hearted.

Mind you I know of people who have travelled on this weekend marathon and never even got to see the game, due to socialising a bit too fervently, they returned home with very little memory of the whole weekend, but the moment they got back they started saving, weekly, for the next trip in two years time.

But putting romanticism aside for one moment, the stark economic factors of the tournament are worth a mention.

Supporters spending makes the championship worth £375 million per year to the participating countries economies, whilst the cities that host the matches (London, Paris, Rome, Dublin, Cardiff and Edinburgh) benefit by around £150 million.

The main sectors to benefit are food and drink and accommodation, in a study undertaken by previous tournament sponsors RBS, £59 million is spent in bars and restaurants, and £38 million on hotels and other accommodation, and £19 million spent in shops.

In addition the tournament creates around 3,100 jobs, and all this very real boost to economies occur during what is a quiet time of year for tourism.

In 2017 two matches in Cardiff, where Wales faced Ireland and England, resulted in £52 million coming into the Welsh economy, of which £30 million was enjoyed by the city of Cardiff itself, so it seems everyone is a winner in the 6 Nations, off the field at least.

As the 2023 tournament approaches, many of us, in the middle of a cold dark winters night will lie awake, and as the wind and rain beat against the window, we will feel a cosy warmth, as we remember with fondness, the matches, the weekends, the laughter, the tears, but most of all we will remember the people we have shared the matches with, and those friends we have met, because it is they that make the six nations tournament so very special.

There is a Peculiar feeling when World Cup tournaments come to an end, an emptiness, a void that is difficult to fill, weeks and months even years of hope and expectation suddenly evaporate, and we are left with the vagaries of so called normal life.

Ruby Tui’s feet had barely touched the ground before the rugby circus had packed up its tent, and the mass migration to Auckland airport commenced.

But as the sun sets in the land of the long white cloud, a new dawn has already risen in the northern hemisphere, as England take over the RWC torch for 2025.

The number of teams participating will be increased to 16 with England, New Zealand, France and Canada already awarded qualification as a result of reaching the semi-finals of RWC 2021.

The prospect of a sold-out Twickenham for the 2025 Final is now a very realistic one, the tournament down under has been another Neil Armstrong type giant leap for the women’s game.

For the Red Roses there is no doubt that the heart breaking pain of yesterday’s final will be the fuel to ignite their challenge for 2025 at the moment though there are wounds to heal and a long 24 hour flight to re-live events from a tournament that gave us all so much.

Thank you New Zealand see you in London.

How do you attempt to match Stephen Jones and Rob Kitson’s wonderful written tributes to Eddie Butler ? Well the answer is you don’t. All I can do is speak from my Welsh heart, a heart that has taken a severe pounding over the last few days.

Eddie commanded the press rooms of international rugby stadiums, not in an assertive macho way, but in a wonderfully warm comforting manner, this big bear of a man seemed to fill the room as he entered it and in his wonderfully gentle manner he always shook everyone by the hand, it didn’t matter if you were an established hack or a new kid on the block you got the same warm greeting, and it made you feel all was well with the world.

Most of my work has been covering France home games, and Eddie nearly always got the commentary gig at the Stade de France in Paris, along with Jonathan Davies, the comforting presence of those two Welshman entering the salon de presse was always a moment I looked forward to.

It was my huge privilege to have met and known Eddie Butler, I feel a stomach churning loss so I can only imagine the pain those with a closer relationship to the big man must feel, I hope all the love and respect that has been shown in print and every other form of media will be of some comfort to them.

For me personally the press areas of the Stade de France and the Principality Stadium will have an empty corner that no one else can possibly fill, I will miss that big pre match outstretched paw so much.

Sleep peacefully Eddie anyone who has ever had the privilege to work alongside you will never forget you. I certainly won’t.

Late night kick offs in Paris are “de rigueur”, providing fans with just enough time for a semi leisurely pre match dinner, or at the very least a croque monsieur and frites, accompanied by a smooth glass of red.

In Cardiff these nocturnal rugby soirées are an exception rather than the rule, a long day for the fans and players to get through before finally heading to the stadium.

On Friday night in Cardiff, as the skies darkened, the emerald green dewy grass glistened under the floodlights, even the starry sky peeped through the open roof at the Principality Stadium.

The heavenly stars were matched by those down below on lush green terra firma. Dupont, Ntamack, and Penaud just three of the blue constellation that have lit up French rugby in the last couple of years.

But it was the men in Red who almost caused a total eclipse of France Grand Slam hopes as they went tantalisingly close to causing a major upset.

Wales pressured France led superbly by Dan Biggar, they caused France to look nervous and fractious but ultimately their rock solid defence kept Wales from gaining that one crucial score that would have given them a memorable victory.

A French win in Cardiff in recent years has been seen as rarely as Halley’s Comet, but these Bleus Brothers play rugby on a different planet, and back to back wins in the Welsh capital have put them eighty minutes away from a Grand Slam.

The stars may not have sparkled as brightly as expected, but on a night when France took a step nearer a title and a Grand Slam, that has eluded them since 2010, the planets have aligned to create a mouth watering late night spectacle next Saturday in Paris against England. A victory for The Boys in blue could result in it being a very late night indeed.

We Welsh are an emotional race, we laugh or we cry, and rarely bother with the run of the mill stuff in between.

Our National team takes full advantage of this Celtic mindset, and constantly provides us with similar polarised emotional experiences, this can happen seasonally, or as happened at Twickenham yesterday, in the space of a single afternoon.

With 79 minutes on the clock Wales trailed England by four points, the Cymric Dr Jekyll we experienced for the opening fifty three minutes of the match had transformed into a free flowing, confident, silky handling Mr Hyde, alas it was all just a little too late to transform us from tears to laughter.

We started welling up early on, or maybe it was just a speck of dust in the eye, as Marcus Smith kicked two penalties in the opening six minutes to give England a 6-0 lead.

After half an hour we began to get the tell tale full lump in the throat as Smith kicked another two penalties, to give England a 12-0 half time lead.

Laughter seemed to be heading down the M4 with its backside on fire as full blown tears loomed ever closer in the rear view mirror. Wales were struggling to put any phases together, struggling at the breakdown, and along with 82,000 thousand others, struggling to understand the referee.

Three minutes into the second half an Alex Dombrandt try completed the dreaded emotional transformation, Wales were 17-0 down making more errors than a Boris Johnson speech writer.

At this stage in the proceedings I would like to introduce you to that cruel Celtic emotional add-on: HOPE.

This is the toughest one of all to deal with, especially when you have already resigned yourself, with extreme difficulty, to the certainty of defeat.

Josh Adams scored a try on fifty four minutes, ok a great consolation but nothing more, Nick Tompkins scores a try on sixty one minutes, Biggar converts to bring the score to 17-12 to England and then it hits us like a runaway train, that HOPE thing is about to kick in.

But of course as we suspected, and as inevitably as night follows day, HOPE disappeared into the Middlesex dusk as another two Marcus Smith penalties, in the space of four minutes, took England’s lead to 23-12, that hope thing can be a heartless creature.

So it’s a fairly swift return to that resigned defeat, but at least we know it’s over, time to come to terms with the fact once and for all, and prepare for the tears.

As if ! when you’re Welsh my friends the emotional tsunami doesn’t end there, not whilst there is still time to wring out a bit more from our emotional flannel.

With the bright Twickenham scoreboard showing 79:31, Kieron Hardy scores from a quick tap penalty, Dan Biggar converts and its 23-19, surely Wales can’t do this, can they ?

Hope springs eternal as the saying goes, and at this stage it is springing like Michael Flattly on steroids, Wales go through seventeen phases with the clock in the red, one last hurrah for HOPE, then with 84:18 on the clock it has gone, like a thief in the night, nowhere to be seen, and we my friends have once again been emotionally mugged.

Laughter to tears is in our DNA it’s how we roll and we have learned to live with that, but it’s the hope that kills you.

It is 401 miles from Edinburgh to Cardiff, a journey, or rather a pilgrimage that is definitely not for the faint hearted.

That weekend trip to see Wales play Scotland in Edinburgh was perceived to be a test of manhood undertaken by many generations of Welsh fans.

The journey to this game was known as “The Killer” leaving Cardiff at 2100 on Friday night, the train would arrive in Edinburgh at 0700 on Saturday morning, the return journey commenced immediately following the match, with the train leaving Edinburgh at 2100 on Saturday night, and arriving in Cardiff at 0500 on Sunday morning, it was not a journey for the faint hearted.

I know of people who have travelled on this weekend marathon and never even got to see the game, due to socialising a bit too fervently, they returned home with very little memory of the whole weekend, but the moment they got back they started saving to do it all again in two years time.

Yesterday it was our friends from the North who had the dubious honour of travelling, and they did so for once in expectation rather than hope, an unusual and maybe troubling mind set for many of the Tartan Army.

Scotland had not tasted victory in Cardiff for 20 years, their last success a 27-22 win over Steve Hansen’s Wales in 2002.

After a memorable victory against England in the Edinburgh rain, the previous Saturday, a Welsh drizzly version of precipitation welcomed them to a packed Principality Stadium.

In a pulsating match Wales found a physicality so sadly missing in Dublin, and got the better of the exchanges against a tough and talented Scotland side.

For Wales this match was old school, it was about passion, desire and sheer bloody mindedness, it was also old school in the stands with a 73,000 choral legion backing track of Bread of Heaven, Hymns & Arias and Calon Lan.

Nobody epitomised this spirit more than Wales fly half and captain Dan Biggar who received the quantity of in-match medical treatment that would make BUPA shareholders wince. Biggar is a warrior, he eventually limped off just before the end, but not before kicking a 50 metre penalty to within metres of the Scottish try line.

It was Biggar’s One hundredth test appearance and he kicked 15 points including the match winning drop goal in the 69th minute after Finn Russell had been yellow carded for a deliberate knock on.

Scotland with Hogg and Russell can light up the darkest of days, but on this occasion they couldn’t turn up the dimmer switch, the Scots in fairness did very little wrong, it was just that sort of day, Wales simply refused to be beaten.

Ryan Jones the 2005 Wales Grand Slam captain coined a phrase for Wales which was Bouncebackability”, they very rarely give back to back poor performances, Yesterday in the twilight and the cascading misty rain of Cardiff the three feathers shone through the gloom, and honour was restored.

Wales head to Twickenham in two weeks time and Scotland entertain France, this wonderful championship still has a few surprises up its sleeve. Murrayfield has never been a happy hunting ground for France so watch this space. But for now we can all take a deep breath, and after all we have been through in recent years give thanks for big crowds great rugby occasions and most importantly our rugby friends.

It has always been this way in Wales, in rugby we do not enjoy the mellow fruitfulness of Autumn, it is as if we descend into a semi hibernation, saving ourselves for winter, and the heralding of a new year that brings about a renewed vigour and an oval ball restoration, as a new Six Nations Championship appears on the horizon.

This year has been no different. Wales have struggled. As the leaves continue to fall, the players, like the dark brown leaves, have also fallen in significant numbers.

The injury list was extensive at the start of the campaign, and it has only increased week by week over the hectic bruising and exhausting month.

On Sunday night the Welsh casualty list had increased even further, the roll call of the wounded alarmingly high. Alun Wyn Jones, Justin Tipuric, George North, Ken Owens, Ross Moriarty, Will Griff John, Leigh Halfpenny, Josh Navidi, James Botham, Dan Lydiate, Josh McLeod, Dewi Lake, Leon Brown, Will Rowlands, Rhodri Jones and potentially Louis Rees Zammit.

Autumn 2021 began with a heavy defeat against by the All Blacks. Wales battled and rattled the World Champions, South Africa, in the Cardiff rain, a week later, and fell agonisingly just short.

Fiji followed, now if there are two words that conjour up images of Welsh rugby anguish, they surely must be Autumn and Fiji, combine the two and you have the perfect storm, as was reflected on a sunny Remembrance Day in the capital, despite the flattering scoreline in Wales favour it was, as famously quoted by Yogi Berra “Deja Vu all over again”

Yesterday the last men standing took on the Wallabies in a match that incorporated just about every rugby thrill and spill possible, red card, yellow cards, a disputed try, and a last minute penalty that gave Wales victory by the narrowest of margins.

For a Wales a victory over Australia however ugly, will be rightly celebrated, and with the blooding of so many new faces, maybe for Wales this will bear fruit in future challenges that lie ahead.

The month of November is nearly over and thoughts will soon turn towards the Guinness Six Nations, there will be a spring in the step and pulses will race that little bit quicker, for Wales, winter is coming.