25 seconds of sporting brilliance that took place in the autumn of 1973.
I don’t remember it of course, but I know the story:
Bennett retreating, collects in front of the posts.
Beats his first man.
Once, twice, again.
“Brilliant, oh that’s brilliant!”
Out to JPR who is nearly decapitated but somehow releases to Pullin.
Pullin to Dawes.
Tom David, the halfway line.
What a take by Quinnell.
Stumbling, Quinnell releases to Edwards who like an express train, collects on the burst.
The diminutive scrum half crosses the 22 at full tilt.
A full back despairing, a winger lunging.
Airborne for an eternity, the corner flag whacked.
“What a score!”
35 miles away, a toddler is bounced inconsiderately hard whilst sat upon his dad’s knee, as he, like a million other dads across Wales, is totally engrossed in the sporting moment.
Was I knocked on? I can’t remember.
In life, things have a funny way of repeating themselves, and it’s in the XL Lounge in Ubud, Indonesia that “The Boy” receives his first taste of sporting dad syndrome.
The try wasn’t a classic like the one crafted by the Barbarians against that all conquering New Zealand team of ’73, but when Jonathan Davies burst through the Irish midfield to a sole Welsh exclamation of “Go on! Go on!….. Yeeeeeesssss!”
My instinctive reaction to jump out of my seat, beer in hand resulted in me smacking hard into the buggy at my feet, which up until then I’d forgotten contained a snoozing baby.
The despair of the gathered Irish fans was muted compared to “The Boys” wail at being woken so inconsiderately.
He soon got over the dormus interruptus though and (I’d like to think) heartened by the scoreline, dozed through the remainder of the game.
It was a performance both he and I can be proud of from a team whose dedication and work are coming together at exactly the right time.
Time to believe?
Who knows what lies ahead, but two more Welsh performances like that and in 38 years time he might also be recounting a story based in legend.