Training tonight was a session of extremes. Extreme weather as the uncompromising rain lashed down and extreme contact as we were equally uncompromising with each other. Endless phases of team vs. team always begun with a #8 pick up right down my alley which got rather tiresome to say the least. But as always with sessions like this, the masochist in me found it strangely enjoyable. We are in a good place for Sunday. Throughout the session I was thinking, “it’s good that we have not forgotten the harsh words we said to ourselves while locked in the changing room in Clermont”. Clearly the chances of me getting the opportunity to say this to anyone were slim but it still went round and round in my head as I refined it grammatically in the rain. This is something that happens more and more as I think in French.
Come the end of the session people were bantering with me about the rain and being Scottish etc ha ha ha... In the first few months when chat was rare then I would happily exploit Scottish stereotypes for a cheap gag here and there. “Oh look, it’s raining, I love the rain” ha...ha... But these days I feel I don’t really need to lower myself to that sort of conversation. It is cheap and a bit patronising, especially when I indulge in it myself. “Oh look, a ginger person, they must be Scottish” ha...ha...
Our coach went on a huge tirade about Stade Francais at the end of the session. He spoke of this generation of Stade players never having won anything and lacking a winning mentality. He also said...um, basically...they’re soft. That’s the gist of it. I just can’t wait to see what strip they wear, as surely they can’t let their youth teams trot out in the same outrageous concoctions that the pros parade. Having said that, my flatmate says that last year they played with the flowers on their chest.
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