Love and passion in France

There has been many historic sporting achievements throughout my lifetime some of which I’ve read about and some I have been privileged to have witnessed, incredible feats that changed not only individual lives but changed the psyche of nations. Such events as the Australian Socceroos heroic performance against Uruguay in 2006 which finally saw them reaching the Football World Cup finals in Germany for the first time since 1974 after 32 years of failure saw their disappointment and heartache forgotten as they participated in and on the Worlds greatest sporting stage. Skeletons have been firmly put back in their closets and the late, great Johnny Warren can now rest in peace. The eyes of the football World will be firmly fixed on these conquering heroes from ‘Down Under’ and this great land of ours will experience nothing like it since the Sydney Olympics. A nation will be united, cultural differences will be put to one side and the nations heart will beat as one as we watch every ball kicked and every tackle made. Emotions will overflow and tears will be shed, but I doubt the love and passion I experienced at the 1998 World Cup finals in France will ever be felt from supporting our champions from the other side of the globe, experiences from the most controversial World Cup finals held, memories that changed my life forever. Witnessing Brazils biggest defeat in World Cup football, the celebrations on the streets of Paris after Frances historic win. The disbelief in reports of Ronaldo the world’s greatest footballer swallowing his tongue through pre-match nerves and how the hatred of a nation turned onto a young English player for being sent off after a moment’s loss of control. Not since USA 94 and the senseless shooting of Colombia’s Escobar has so much controversy surrounded the finals of a World Cup. But there was another story in France that was not reported on, not a story of “German Nazi Hooligans” or rampaging “British Lager Louts”. But a story of true dedication, a story of love and sheer determination to be part of one of the greatest show on earth, a story I’m sure that was bigger than anything to come out of Sydney during the Olympics or is likely to come out of Beijing in 2008. What story could be bigger than breaking Olympic World records? The answer is quite simple, I survived four weeks in a two-man tent! “Big deal” I can hear you mutter. “The man’s gone mad” how can this be bigger than Australia’s own Cathy Freeman winning the 400 metres or Thorpy and company breaking world records at the drop of a hat? Let me start by clearing up a misunderstanding, the term two-man tent is a loose interpretation used by what I can only describe as the psychotic descendant of a tribe of pygmies who was impersonating a Camping and Adventure Salesman, who assured me that the picture on the box was not and I repeat not the actual size. It soon became obvious to me that I actually owned a pair of underpants, which had more room in them. Therefore when contemplating living in a canvas jockstrap firstly take the contents out of the packet and examine prior to reaching your desired destination. Now for someone who hasn’t actually bonded with Mother Nature for over thirty years, spending four weeks in a pair of Y-fronts can be very traumatic, and the memory has a habit of twisting the truth. My head was full of distorted scouting memories, sitting around campfires drinking cocoa and singing “ging gang gilly gilly” and sleeping all feet to the pole! I now know modern tents don’t have poles, probably because there is nothing to hold up and having reached France with my accommodation such as it was firmly in place minus the pole and my sleeping bag unfolded it was time to catch up on some well deserved rest. Sleeping in a padded condom directly on the ground is like trying to sleep on top of a bag of walnuts and it soon became clear to me that sponge matting is highly recommended. The camping grounds in France are of a high standard and offer all the conveniences a camper could want, showers, toilets and a shop to purchase all your food supplies such as beans, spaghetti and soup. It soon became obvious that you should never go camping without plates, cutlery and a can opener or at the very least your genuine Swiss Army multi functional knife; it can be very embarrassing having to ask your fellow campers if they can open your dinner for you. So I made some basic mistakes and sure the tent was small and I should have known that terra firma is bumpy and that cans are difficult to open without the recommended tools, but there is one more lesson to be learnt if you are thinking of ever going on a camping holiday, never and I repeat never go camping without a toilet roll, campsites offer excellent clean amenities but do not supply toilet paper in the cubicles. Sadly sitting on the throne with only a pair of shorts hanging around your ankles is not the ideal situation to find yourself in as it is highly unlikely you will have your trusty French phrase book available at the time “parlez vous anglaise, parlez vous anglais” World records will continue to be broken at the next Olympics in China and new heroes will emerge in Germany.Yes Ronaldo’s fears were overcome, Beckham was forgiven and my lower back actually did eventually respond to treatment. But there is one thing I’m sure of, we will all be back with a passion supporting some great event in the future either from the luxury of our lounge rooms or actually in person but remember please whichever sport you decide on I hope you choose your accommodation wisely.

Ends.