Heineken European Cup Final

If your a true rugby fan then you must go to a game in Wales (Previously Cardiff Farms now the Millennium stadium) its always been a dream of mine . . .

Nicci organised this past weekend as a birthday present for me. All I knew about this weekend was that there we where going to a festival in Europe and to get there was going to be a huge amount of travel involved. I was quite dubious about how much fun we could fit in around all the travelling. Nicci however was adamant that this ‘incredible european festival’ would be worth it. As a last minute idea I managed to scrounge the Friday off work (from a rather unimpressed manager) I don’t understand his problem, I true to form I asked on Thursday – it wasn’t last minute or anything.

We started the weekend with a 2 hours bus ride to Frankfurt Hann, where we waited and then caught another bus to Frankfurt Main where we spent the night. The next morning we caught a train back to the airport and boarded a plane to our final destination – seeing as we where in Germany I thought it would be in Russia, Prague maybe. Boy I was surprised to find out the plane landed in Bristol, Wales????
Turns out that Nicci wasn’t entirely truthful and this ‘Festival’ was actually the European Cup Rugby Final, not only had our newly adopted team Munster made the final. Somehow Nicci had scored amazing tickets to the rugby almost on the 50m line. Better yet the final was being played at Cardiff, the home of Wales rugby.

Anyone who knows my father will probably have heard a few of his stories. Well one of my favourite tales has to be ‘story number 54’ when got rugby tickets to the All Blacks vs Wales at Cardiff Farm Park. He still says it is one of the most memorable games he has ever seen, his one regret was that the All Blacks wiped the Welsh and he didn’t get to hear much singing from the crowd, they where rather tame he says.

Well knowing this we got off the plane and Nicci was grinning from ear to ear, being run over buy a bus wouldn’t have wiped the smile off her face, unfortunately realising she had left her phone on the plane did! It wasn’t the phone that mattered she explained not only where we going to the rugby final, but some good friends where in Cardiff as well and she was supposed to call them and we were to meet them for a few pre match beers. Sounds terrible!
We couldn’t do much about the phone because the plane was already heading back to Frankfurt so we jumped onto a bus heading to Bristol where we where staying. The schedule was always tight so we only had enough time to dump our bags at the hostel before getting onto another bus to Cardiff. This feat would have gone a lot smoother if some local hadn’t sent us in the direct opposite direction from the hostel.

As we wandered down the street it was here that I started to realise that rugby wasn’t a sport but actually a religion here. We where still an hour and a half drive from the stadium and literally every second man woman and child walking down the street had a bright red Munster shirt on - talk about support Wales rugby is alive and well.

After wandering around in circles for a while, we boarded the bus to get us to Millennium stadium – still carrying our bags. Suprise surprise it was overflowing with red Muster fans. The trip was rather uneventful but as we pulled into Cartiff the bus stopped, we couldn’t move. Looking out the window it was painfully obvious why, Munster fans had taken over the streets, they where everywhere. Thousands and thousands of Munster fans – incredibly it was only 1200, kick off wasn’t until 1700, this was a real rugby town.

With some help from well lubricated but extremely helpful fans and a program sales lady who became our personal secretary for the day (if you wish to apply for the position you have to provide your own phone) we managed to not only pick up our tickets but to call and meet Mark and Emma in the pub. Well not quite the pub, the small grassy area next to it, the pub was overflowing, the windows where wide open, everyone was just passing pints onto the street. On the street it was standing room only. The seriously outnumbered Tulouse fans had nothing to worry about, the atmosphere was so chilled. The stadium sits about 75,000 fans. But I am sure there was closer to 100,000 people there, and I only counted 3 cops all night. We watched 9 or 10 pink French bunnies (????) carrying huge Tulouse signs above their heads attempt to sneak thought the sea of red Muster fans like cartoon characters, big high steps, standing on tip toes and fingers pressed to their lips indicating to anyone who was watching to be quiet, of course the entire street was watching. I by this time was on the floor with fits of laughter, it was so funny. They carried on down the street like this until one Munster fan; adamant of their impending doom bought them all a round because he ‘felt sorry for them’.

We then downed a few beers and talked about how rugby was an outside winter sport therefore closing the stadium roof was a ridiculous idea, why would you do this? We asked. Then all too soon it was time for kick off. Still carrying our bags and headed for our seats on the 40m mark. The stadium the atmosphere can only be described as electric it was so intense. The huge stadium was full of Munster supporters (about 68,000 I have been told). The few Tulouse fans that actually turned up where hell bent on making some noise though, they carried drums, cow bells, pots and pans and anything they could use. The entire stadium was red, there was nothing else, just red, you couldn’t even see the blue seats the people where that thick.

The noise was indescribable, when the teams came out the cheer that erupted was so loud you couldn’t tell if you where actually yelling or not. The game was fantastic, a real final, close and hard fought. This just excited the crowd. The Tulouse fans would try and make some noise just to be stopped dead in there tracks by 68,000 Irish and Welsh fans who would start singing – not just a drunken sing along, but incredibly in harmony, the entire crowd would actually change octaves through the song. It was at this point I decided that shutting the roof of the stadium was brilliant because the acoustics where just cool, you could almost feel the building pulsing, it the roof was open you would have heard the Munster fans in Paris.
The match paled in comparison to the atmosphere, although Doug Howlet nearly scored a great try if he wasn’t delivered a forward pass, Byron Callaher played a solid game as usual (even if he is a dirty frenchy now) and the Tolouse winger put on of the best tries I have ever seen. It started from an offensive Munster kick deep into the French half; he gathered the ball from outside the touch line. Passed it to himself, then beat most of the defenders with two chip kicks, which he subsequently recovered, then provided a text book off load to a supporting player who scored - nice.

After the game finished it was back to the pub, everyone we spoke to would look at us ask what on earth we where doing there (not being Irish – we stood out like sore thumbs as soon as we opened our mouths). We coined a standard answer which was “We are New Zealanders . . . who else would travel this far for a rugby match” they seemed to love that answer; it was talk of the pub. The other quote of the night was “eight busses, one train, two planes, one weekend - watching Munster win in the Cup final . . . Priceless”. Turns out everyone knows this Mastercard add, everyone liked that also.
Its about now I have to admit that New Zealand rugby supporters have nothing on the Welsh or Irish, Cardiff is a real rugby town and rugby is a religion over there, they really put us to shame. Welsh rugby is like nothing I have ever experianced.

Then all too soon, it was 1.30 in the morning and fun time was over. We had to catch our bus back to Bristol (still with our bags) and attempted to find our hostel again. At 3.45am we had succeeded and crawled into bed, painfully aware a sleep in the next morning was not an option as check out was at 10.00. We survived the next day drinking coffee in cafes (intravenously into my veins please) and wandering through the shops, stopping to pick up Vogels bread and tea for Nicci.

We caught the bus back to the airport and checked in, we boarded the plane and then we waited . . . .and waited some more – turns out they couldn’t find one of the passengers, painfully aware of how far we had to travel I started to worry, the minutes continued to tick by. Finally she turned up, no apology and she actually had the nerve to ask everyone in her row to move because she liked the window seat. It was about this time that the pilot came onto the radio and told us we had just missed our take off slot and would have to wait another 45 minutes for the next one. A head wind ensured that we where going to be over two hours late landing in Frankfurt.

While in the air we had a competition to see who was the most screwed – I think the air hostess won, she had a daughter at home, had missed her connecting flight which meant a 3 hours drive to get home, AND she had a big exam the next morning at 0800. The couple behind us where on their honeymoon and missed their connecting flight (but the way they went on though you thought the sky was falling) and as for use we had missed the last bus back to Luxembourg for the night.
That’s not a problem I thought, we will just catch a train. Turns out that the only train that we could have caught to Luxembourg goes via Paris, take over 8 hours and we would have to train changes 5 times (it’s normally a direct 3 hour trip).
Ok, that’s cool, more than one way to skin a cat, we will rent a car and drive; it can’t be that expensive. Haha we got quoted 400 euro for a 24 hour rental. Flights to Luxembourg where about 400 euro each so that wasn’t an option either. Our next option was to book a hotel and leave in the morning, my already angry manager won’t like this I thought. That wasn’t going to happen anyway because the hotel reception had closed so we couldn’t even book a hotel. Hhhuummm its now 12oclock and we are really stuck now. So we did what every self respecting kiwi would do. We found four chairs in one of the biggest busiest airports in the world and tried to sleep. Being mildly paranoid about having my bags stolen sleep doesn’t come easy to me in public places so I rested my eyes . . . in between watching everyone that walked past. At 2.30am we boarded the first bus to Frankfurt Hann, where we would catch a connecting bus to Luxembourg.
I rubbed my eyes and hopped off the bus at 06.15am on Monday morning, it was light the city was awake and everyone was off to work. Not wanting to feel left out I went home, changed and went to work - I was even early, but I hadn’t slept.
Funny thing is not only did I get kudos at work doing such a trip after I had finished telling this entire story it was may manager was the one who was laughing longest and hardest.