By Cormac
December 18 2011

I said I’d write the Racing match report –It may as well be mercifully short.A freezing day, the festive humour flattened,In eighty minutes, precious little happened!

A dour game subdued the Christmas vibe,
Producing almost nothing to describe.
Our chance was slim to start, we all but blew it –
But how on earth can anyone review it?

The match began in quite idyllic fashion
The Irish with the best of early action
Two solid Racing line-outs, then a ruck
And penalty, to break the Irish duck.

Now Tommy Homer stepped up to the ball,
In quite appalling dayglo boots, but all
We cared about was ‘Is he going to kick?’
A roar went up – he pointed to the sticks.

The massive kick went over, what a start!
An early boost, to gladden Irish hearts.
‘Some more of this’ was ev’ry Paddy’s prayer -
But sadly things would only slide from there.

Then Tommy should have kicked – the crowd called ‘Run!’
He should have known there’s really nothing on.
A silly Delon pass, we lost the ball.
An interception, Racing pen – three-all.

Now Declan caught the restart, and a pen
To Irish made the score 6-3, but then
A fearsome scrum by Racing does the same.
A pen to them, it’s over – level game.

A blazing set of rucks puts us on top –
Frustration boiling over, Racing flop
Atop the ball – there really was no need.
The dayglo boots restore our three-point lead.

But now the match’s pattern soon emerges –
The Irish ref’s infuriating urges!
For every single ruck he’s hardly ceasing
To penalise the Irish: not releasing.

It’s Gibson holding on, he says, this time.
The Racing stand-off takes their score to nine.
The game swings back to Irish, as before –
A Tommy Homer kick gives us three more.

And then the Frenchmen mount their first attack:
With ‘pick and go’ they smash into our pack.
Frustratingly, it should have been our ball,
Wisniewski drops an easy goal – 12-all.

The final score line of the half, as such,
Another ‘holding on’ pen kicked to touch.
A longish throw, a maul, 10’s in the hole…
A perfect pass, a beautiful drop goal.

So that’s the half, with Racing three points up,
And our continued progress in the Cup
Dependent on the Racing side conceding
(I’ll tell you now – they didn’t quit from leading)

Some Irish stout defence was needed next,
The ref awarding Racing scrums perplexed
The Irish fans and forwards – anyway,
We booted clear, to live another day.

But then, the heartbreak – Irish going well,
A silly chip from Spratt (I think) – oh hell!
Sereli Bobo’s got the intercept,
And seven points he’s happy to accept.

He’s legged it down the pitch – TH can’t catch him.
And that’s it, vis-à-vis the scoring action,
Until the final minute of the game –
The Irish out, in everything but name.

And then the Irish nemesis, Wisniewski,
Delib’rately knocks forward, quite grotesquely.
And even Sir (pro-Racing “Irish” fellow)
Can think of no alternative to yellow.

It’s after this that things get really tough,
The Racing forwards running out of puff.
We’re trying to move them round, and make them sweat,
But does their wasting time succeed? You bet!

The ref keeps giving pens for holding on,
But every one to Racing Metro – yawn!
And that, combined with unforced Irish fumbling
Is setting us Madejski faithful grumbling.

But, anyway, Wisniewski soon returns,
A host of Irish scoring chances spurned –
Well, maybe that’s a little harsh, but still,
I really wish we’d held on to the pill!

Now everything gets worse – the wasting time,
The penalties, the Irish handling – I’m
About to lose the plot, and go berserk,
When finally an Irish tactic works.

Fantastic Irish move, through sev’ral phases,
From Delon, Topsy, Dodge, and – what the blazes!
A grubber threaded through for Dec to chase
Just bobbles into touch – he lost the race.

A knock-on, scrum, free kick to us, and thence
Does Paicey smash the wall of French defence,
AT LAST the Irish cross the Racing line!
Though Homer slots the two, we’re out of time.

So, there we are – an outcome far from pleasing,
Your poor old correspondent’s fingers freezing!
The crowd all wander home, depressed and listless,
And that’s the lot. Dear reader, happy Christmas!