By Mad Monk
June 18 2014
Following-on from Big-Al's reminiscences about past London Irish glories Mad Monk recalls his first overseas game into the French rugby heartland...
‘Twas my very first overseas game: 29 October 2006. Sonof and I decided on the spur of the moment to have a day trip to Tolouse for round 2 of the 2006/7 Heineken Cup. Like many whims it seemed like a good idea at the time. The ridiculously early start was all part of the fun. Getting to the airport for the return flight was going to be tight, but if we left straight after the match should be no problem. You can see at that time we had not quite got the idea of the away craic. Mrs Monk consults pages d’or online and identifies a number of taxi firms in Toulouse. She was left a little bemused by the Gallic mirth that accompanied a request for a post match pick-up at Stade Ernest Wallon to go to the airport. In the end she gives up and tells us that we will just have to flag one down. I practice my taxi wave in French. I am not sure I have the accent quite right.
We haven’t yet got the idea of hilarious disasters that must perforce accompany all stories of away trips. Taxi from airport, find tourist office to ask where buses for stadium leave, pizza for lunch. Yawn. We walk along the canal to fill the time, reasoning that a bit of exercise before the match will do us good. Had we known what would happen later we would have taken motorised transport while we could. Eventually we arrive and spot some other green shirted ones. The green LISC berets are a big hit with the locals who are evidently bored with the red ones. We check out inside and find somewhere that sells beer. For some reason the beer here is sold in tiny plastic thimbles but it is cheap. We find our seats. Having bought online direct from the club we find ourselves surrounded by local supporters. They indulge us. They know they are going to win.
Some things do not change. Brian Smith (First edition) was struggling with injuries. Ricky Flutey was dropped at the last minute with a leg injury during Saturday’s captain’s run. Barry “the Boot” Everett only lasted until half time, and the Cattmeister came off two minutes into the second half. Delon made it the perfect start with a try in the first minute which Barry the Boot converted. It went downhill from there. Toulouse replied with two converted tries and chucked in a couple of penalties for good measure. Half time 20-10. With two of our key players off, Toulouse pressed the advantage. Kieran Roche did manage to score for us with young Mr Armitage adding the extras following Barry’s departure but it was too much of a mountain to climb. Even with a man advantage in the last ten minutes London Irish could not capitalise and allowed the home side a last minute bonus try.
Being swept off along with 18,000 other fans we look in vain for a taxi. Ah well, having studied the maps of Toulouse the airport is not far from the stadium. We have no choice but to walk. To start with it goes well. Following a bunch of Toulousains who presumably live on the other side of the Garonne we find a footbridge and cross the first natural barrier between us and the airport. From here it should be easy right? Walk in the general direction of the airport. Such things are, by their very nature, large, and hence should in principle be easy to find. Finding the airport was easy. We could see the airport, we could hear the airport. It is just that we could not quite reach the airport. The number of cul-de-sacs in the industrial estate surrounding the place is phenomenal. We long since abandoned the idea of making it to the airport in time for a relaxing pre-flight meal. When two footsore supporters finally staggered through the main entrance we were just grateful that the flight had not closed.