Well...not that I am an analytical type, but...why does that funny pointy ball keep popping through my posts? I can't work it out...for a football agnostic and intellectual junkie like me, perhaps ze Gods have gone crazy?
It all started when I met a rugby-mad dad and his two Young Wallabies. I went from oblivion to several test matches, to being nagged by my cubbettes to buy them a rugby ball, rugby jerseys, scarfs and beanies and even shipped a boxing Wallaby to England for Springbok cousin, dressed up as Lion!
It didnt help that cubs and I ended up sharing a table with ex Wallaby Captain of World Cup fame at Tres Sopranos- our local pizza joint, a few weeks ago...and now Cub 1 at very expensive ladies school is drawing up a petition to get touch rugby allowed and mum has to line up rugby super stars to coach les girls!
Having recently met ex team doctor of the All Blacks, and a good mate of Francois Pienaar, another doctor and Captain of World Cup fame ( albeit the horny kind....no, the Springboks dummy! don't always think naughty things!), I must confess I'd be much happier if the girls pursued a gentle sport like tennis!
But then again...I can see how 320 girls living under one roof in almost boot camp conditions in sub-zero temperatures could benefit from releasing a few pent-up hormones by chasing a pointy ball! It sure beats bitchiness!
Well, looks like my rugby education is set to continue and cubs think I'm supermum for getting us all invited to the Wallabies/England game on Sunday night. Only problem is: What to do with the bloody New Seeluhndar? (Perhaps I'll reciprocate with the ballet - hope he doesn't break into the Haka Haka when the curtain rises!)
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