Sadly, as I’m getting older, my head is reigning in my heart’s ever-optimistic assertion: ‘Of course Wales are going to win the 6 Nations!’
My head’s objectivity is usually met with, and beaten by, my heart’s uninhibited, passionate, unreasoned optimism.
Maybe I’m getting more sensible. I hope not. I’m fully expecting that by 10am tomorrow I will, no doubt, be in full nationalistic swing, believing, nay knowing, that Wales will not only win their first match, but also that this will catapult us to yet another Grand Slam. (A few years ago I woke up my wife at 3am by singing Hymns and Arias in bed. No, I wasn’t even drunk)
So my head’s prediction for this year’s tournament goes a little something like this:
In typical French fashion, they will surprise us all. Mainly by being good all the way through. Losing one of their matches, either in Dublin or Twickenham.
Damn them and their new-found humility and likeable coach. They have confidence and a togetherness that will see them do well. But they do have to go to Cardiff.
If we win the first match, who knows what the surge will bring. Lose it and we’re scrapping for a crumb of respect from the rest of the matches.
I just don’t see it happening this year. Their pack is missing key players and their backline isn’t what it was a couple of years ago. But again, a lot hinges on the opener against Wales.
Only because the other team left is Italy.
So there we go.
Be nice to the other people. Don’t let national pride become jingoistic, stereotypical hatred of others. Banter if you will, but only if everyone’s ‘in’ on it.
Oh, and my heart’s prediction?
WALES TO WIN THE GRAND SLAM!
Just like every other year.