A spoonful of sugar...

I’ve finally re-emerged after what has been one of the worst Autumns I can ever remember. Never before have I been so angry with an England performance that I’ve wanted to rip out my eye-balls and replace them with the testicles from a leprous baboon. But there were moments over the last 3 weeks when I was seriously tempted.

“Oh but we did so much better against New Zealand, we showed real spirit”

Fuck off. We lost. And we lost comfortably to a shit New Zealand team with Dan Carter kicking like my dead gran. But more on my England theories later.

In order to cheer everyone up I thought it would be a great time for round two of the Eyes Right, Bollocks Tight Cheerleader of the Month competition. Woo hoo!

Nominations have been pouring in from all corners of the globe but our expert panel of judges – Mother Palm and her 5 sisters – have whittled the list down to this month’s winner.

Congratulations go to [dramatic drum-roll please]……

Melandi of the Vodacom Cheetahs. Yay.

According to her website profile of this “flip-flopping dancing beauty loves doing things she usually wouldn’t do, because she loves surprising herself”. Ding Dong.

The athlete she admires the most is Lance Armstrong and her hidden talent is that she is flexible – see pic right. She enjoys pornography – oh no, wait, sorry – photography as a hobby and “feels inspired by music, emotion and being an individual”. Bleaughhhh!!!

Commenting on the win Melandi said: “Wow – what an honour. This is just the best. We’ve all been feeling pretty low since the Bokka lost AGAIN last week and this has cheered me up so much. Thanks Mother Rucker – feel free to visit the Cheetah girls anytime you’re in Free State. We’d love to see you.”

You know what, maybe I will.

Prediction Time

Time to get my predictions hat on ahead of this weekend’s international action.

England Vs Australia

I’ll be honest, I’m worried. My heart is saying “We can do it. We’re fielding a team of substitutes but it’ll be fine - they’ll step up. The boys will play the game of their lives and bring more passion to Twickenham than Berlusconi on twelve Viagra at the Playboy bloody mansion.” But my head is telling my heart “Fuck right off mate, we’ve got more chance of finding Abu Hamza reading the bible in a glove shop”.

I’m afraid, dear friends, that England will have their arses handed to them.

Australia will win by 15.

Wales Vs New Zealand

Let’s pray there is another post haka front up. Wales will be all out gunning for the ABs this year and I reckon there is a chance they could do it. But they won’t.

New Zealand will win by 3.

You can't knock passion

While I might not whole-heartedly agree with Martin Johnson's decision to include Steve Thompson in England's starting line up, it does force me to doff my cap to the Brive man.

Having been told he should never play rugby again because of a serious neck injury, Thompson could have taken his coaching job and his £500,000 insurance payment and left it at that. But no. He still had the hunger to play. He sourced a second opinion, was told he could safely take to the field, and decided to give it a go.

Of course, this left the small matter of his insurance payment. If he was to play again he'd need to give back the loot, otherwise he could expect a huge law suit and very probably some giant of a Gaul banging down his door and stealing his kids. Most people, myself included, would probably have thought "Fuck it. I've won the world cup, a grandslam, and 3 caps for the Lions. This is more hassle that it's worth".

But did the big man think that? No. He paid back the loan and got back on the saddle.

And what better vindication of a decision than to get the call up to your national side. He might be in because of injuries to many of the other options but to hell with it. The man deserves a great deal of praise for staging a remarkable come back and for proving to some of the doubters out there that the professional game still contains men willing to make huge sacrifices to play the sport they love.

The more Steve Thompsons we have in the game the better.

Count down to Twickenham

Not exactly flush with possibilities, are we? With Tindall and Blaze now on the England bonfire the tally of unavailable players comes to 76 props, 13 locks, 24.5 back row and 37 backs.

It’s a miracle yours truly hasn’t been called up yet.

But I suppose every cloud has a silver lining. The one “good” thing to come out of the injury pile up is the righting of the madness that saw Nick Kennedy being left out of the squad completely. Thankfully he’s back in the mix and to my mind should be one of the first names on Jonno’s team sheet.

The key concern is obviously up front. The Aussies aren’t the scrummaging joke they once were, the Pumas are probably the most feared pack in world rugby and the All Blacks are, well, despite not having a functioning line-out, the All Blacks.

England will have to front up big time if we’re to match any of the tourists at the set piece. And as much as it pains me to say it, it looks likely we’ll have an all Leicester back row. Steffon Armitage is a great player, but Lewis Moody is a lunatic and we’ll need his combination of lunacy and experience at the back of the scrums and at the breakdown.

For me the backs pick themselves. The only toss up is between Foden and Cueto at fullback. Foden can be dodgy under the highball but has the magic England need at the moment while Cueto is tried, tested, solid and in form.

One thing is certain, England are going to be hard pressed to win these autumn games but there is reason to be cheerful. The Messiah is back and there are a few players in the mix who may yet do enough of the business to give the nation a collective hard on. Here is my line up for the 7th (assuming I have to put Borthwick in as captain):

1. Tim Payne
2. Dylan Hartley
3. Duncan Bell
4. Steve Borthwick ©
5. Nick Kennedy
6. Tom Croft
7. Lewis Moody
8. Jordan Crane
9. Paul Hodgson
10. Jonny Wilkinson
11. Matt Banahan
12. Shane Geraghty
13. Dan Hipkiss
14. Ugo Monye
15. Ben Foden

16. David Barnes
17. David Wilson
18. Courtney Lawes
19. Louis Deacon
20. Mathew Tait
21. Danny Care
22. Mark Cueto

God bless America

As much as it pains me to admit it, the Americans have given the world a number of pretty useful inventions: barcodes; dental floss; auto-pilot; breakfast cereal; anal beads (!?!). The list goes on and on, and we should be thankful. We Brits may have kicked off the industrial revolution but the seppos took it, gave it braces, bleached its teeth, nipped, tucked, squeezed and came up with the production line, rocket fuel and Starbucks.

But the yanks didn't just want to be master of the intellectual world, they wanted to control the sporting world as well. Now, given the good old USofA's fairly limited history they haven't had time to develop a sound four four two formation let alone a solid forward defensive stroke. So they decided the best thing to do was to barstardise some of our greatest sports in order to ensure consistent global dominance. Perhaps the best example is American Football - a sport developed with nothing but revenue in mind. But I'm not going to go into the whole rugby vs Amercian football debate, it's as dull and endless as an American football match itself. But there is one thing that American Football will always have over Rugby and that is the LFL.

What's the LFL? I hear you cry. It is the Lingerie Football League. That's right, the fucking LINGERIE Football League. And it's quite possibly the mother of all inventions to come out of the land of the star spangled banner. Not only are the participants extraordinarily easy on the eye but they are in fact hard as fucking nails.

Visit the website. Watch the footage. And if you're still not converted take a long hard look at yourself in the mirror and ask yourself one question. Why in the name of all that is sacred not?

Eyes Right Cheerleader Award

I can't begin to describe the amount of demand there has been for more cheerleader posts since our last trip down stiffy lane. I can't describe it because there hasn't been any, but I'm not going to let that minor glitch stop me from kicking off the first Cheerleader Of The Month competition. Whether or not this happens every month depends on my levels of motivation but rest assured, I'm sure I'll be able to find the time. So here we go...

This months winner of the soon to be coveted Eyes Right B*llocks Tight Cheerleader of the Month is....Eina Schmidt of the Natal Sharks. Congratulations.



Eina is 22 and from Cape Town. She loves long walks by the ocean, strong but sensitive men and English accents. Her greatest fear is having to eventually give up wearing her knickers for a living and her biggest secret is that she actually cried when England lost in the world cup final in 2007.

Commenting on her award Eina said: "It's a real honour to be the first recipient of the Eye's Right cheerleader award and I didn't even have to felate the judging panel. All the girls at the Sharks love the blog and are so jealous, they're going to be doing everything they can to win this in the future."

God bless you Eina Schmidt.

What we've all been waiting for

Hells bells – My trouser drill has just made a hole in the bottom of my desk. The trailer of “Living with the Pride” has just dropped into my inbox.

Having watched Living with Lions ohh, maybe 1000 times over the years, my standards have been set fairly fucking high but I get the feeling this could be a very special film. Forget they lost the series, this is another McGeechan tour in SA and I think the Lions 09 journey could make for much better viewing than its ’97 counterpart.

On the face of it Geech seemed to have managed to instil some of that “amateurs on tour” feeling into the 2009 party and if we get even a flavour of what the documentary team managed to capture from the ’97 tour we’ll be in for a trouser swelling treat.

I may be calling in sick on the 19th October.

Carlsberg don't do hakas, but if they did....

I have to say I fucking loved it when Wales fronted up to the haka in 2008. I wish I'd been there, in the Millenium Stadium, drinking in the atmostphere at that very moment. The complaints by certain kiwis afterwards was complete bollocks. Disrespecting the culture and tradition blah blah fuckety blah.

I think it's important teams don't allow NZ to have it all their own way when it comes to the pre-match ritual, particularly when they're playing away. But I have to admit, this video put the Welsh reaction into perspective. I don't think we'll be seeing Ryan Jones with his top off and a wooden cleaver any time soon - but you never know.

Bob Babbington needs you!!!

Right. That’s it. My life has changed. I officially have a new love. His name is Bob Babbington and he is the inventor of Sim Rugby, a sport he is tipping to take over the world. Not only is Bob a fucking genius but he also has a way with words that surpasses even Mother Rucker’s venerable vocabulary. Watch some of his videos to see for yourselves.

Bob has managed to recruit key members of the England squad to play and promote this innovation of the game and purely through his passion and charisma he has acquired another advocate – yours truly. If only those at the top of the RFU had even an ounce of Bob’s energy and reverence for the code of Union, the game in this country may be in a very different place. And anyone whose enthusiasm for a sport makes them want to eat it “make themselves sick and eat it again” should be in line for a bloody knighthood in my book.

Bob Babbington, I bally salute you and look forward to watching you and Sim Rugby flourish in the future.

Don't cry for me....

I know it's late but I've been abroad promoting Eyes Right across Europe.

So - the anitpods have finally got their act together and invited the Argies to play in the tri-nations. What will it be called? The quad-nations? No, sounds like a farming equipment conference. The Quattro-nations? Fuck no, sounds like a shit pizza. The four-nations? Hmmm, I could go on but it doesn’t matter. The point is Argentina are now firmly where they belong. Slicking back their hair, taming polo ponies, quaffing inordinate amounts of malbec and gorging on prime steak at the head of the fucking IRB dinner table.

And those already sitting pretty at the top need to watch out. Lest we forget Argentina came third in the 2007 World Cup. THIRD!!! And that’s without a major annual competition in which to hone their craft. Now they’ve got the chance to take a massive step forward and not only compete in the big leagues (although they’re doing that already) but actually picking up some major, MAJOR scalps.

I for one will be more drawn than ever to the re-vamped tri-nations purely for the moment when Argentina scrape a win against the ABs in Dunedin. What a day that will be.

Here's to you Mr Floyd

Keith Floyd, 1943-2009. What a man.

Of course he’s got nothing to do with sport but he’s still a legend in Mother Rucker’s book. And what a way to go. Full of oysters, potted shrimp, partridge and Côtes du Rhone. Yes please.

It was the revelation that Floyd had gone out the way he’d have wanted - full of exquisite food and booze - that got me thinking. Many an argument has taken place in public houses across the land as to the make up of the best rugby team incorporating differing person/animal types i.e. your perfect animal front row would be a hippo at loose head, a crocodile (think of the tail) at hooker, and a silverback at tight head. So I started thinking about my perfect rugby team made out of food. Here goes:

1. Loose-head prop: The full English breakfast – inelegant, unhealthy and inevitably too much for you to handle. But when you’re getting your head kicked in by booze or flankers, they’re always there to sort you out.



2. Hooker: Chicken jalfrezi – they seem fairly innocuous but will rip your arse-hole out given half the chance.



3. Tight-head prop: Sirloin steak – simple, meaty, does just what you want it to but must be treated with respect or is liable to get tough.



4. Lock: Pigs trotters stuffed with sweet breads and morels – looks and sounds like something out of Mordor but does things that nothing else on earth can.



5. Lock: Chicken breast – seemingly dull and uninspiring but full of protein and likely to catch something if held aloft for an extended period of time.



6. Blind side flanker: Bread – you never notice it until it’s not there.



7. Open side flanker: Onions – they get everywhere, especially in your eyes.



8. Number eight: A full rack of BBQ ribs – looks too much, weighs too much and if you try to tackle it in one go is likely to make you sick.



9. Scrum half: A jar of marmite – you either love them or hate them.



10. Fly half: Braised Scottish halibut with charred leeks, coddled quail’s eggs, English watercress salad and creamed Oscietra caviar - technical brilliance with a hint of genius.



11. Wing: Eggs – quick, versatile and tasty. Just don’t hit them too hard.



12. Inside centre: Bacon cheese burger – no nonsense. Gets the job done. Never fails.



13. Outside centre: Fig rolls – speed is the key here. And nothing goes through you faster than a fig roll.



14. Wing: Cous-cous – quick, but who gives a fuck



15. Fullback: Chili con carne – safe as houses, always reliable. Often has a bit of kick.

Gone but not forgotten

Christ – what a few weeks it has been. Apologies, fair readers, for Mother Rucker’s absence from the fibre optic highway but for the first time in this young knave’s life one has been busy at work. Quite ridiculous really that a blogger who is supposed to be blogging on rugby has completely missed the tri-nations, the opening weekend of the Guinness Premiership, the Magners League, etc, etc, flap, flap, flap. Well, I can honestly say, hand on heart, I am sorry. Must do better. And one shall.

Lets kick off with a bit of a round up of what the bloody hell has actually been going on whilst I’ve been off air. Well for a start the Saffas have won the tri-nations. This is fine. As long as the Australians don’t win the damn thing I couldn’t care one iota. Yes, it can be spectacular rugby and I enjoy watching it. But, care who wins? I do not.

Except in Australia’s case.

NZ winning it is fine - they’re generally expected to. SA winning in is fine – they’re the world champs and been playing some pretty awesome stuff. But watching Oz winning is like being forced to rub a poisonous Amazonian tree frog into your genitals. Not fucking enjoyable.

Don’t get me wrong I have nothing against Australians per se. Except for the fact they’re whingeing, arrogant, whiny bastards of course. But I recall back in ’03 when England had just won the world cup. Some fellow charioteers and I were giving the oppo’ supporters some jovial post match banter when one of them turned to me and said, in that all too familiar Australian upward inflicting drawl, “wait ‘till you’ve won it twice before you start shooting your mouth off you pom c*nt”.

Now, those of you who know me well will know that my fuse is about as long as Ronnie Corbett’s trouser leg. But amazingly there was no physical violence – how could I taint such a perfect day – and the fact I had received such an angry response to an England victory made the celebrations even sweeter. But that incident reaffirmed my belief that everyone, everywhere, must do everything they can to prevent Australia winning anything in the future. Well done South Africa and well done England for bring the Ashes home - no one cares about pyjama cricket anyway.

The Guinness Premiership has of course kicked off. Well done to George Robson for taking a mere 40 seconds of the season to prove unequivocally that Quins are a bunch of tossers. Wasps are off to a flier as are Sarries and Bath are below Leeds. Not exactly how I would have scripted it but there’s a long way to go.

I wondered whether I should put my balls on the block and make a prediction on who would win the premiership this year. Well, I’m going to. You’ve heard it here first. London Irish.

A question of tradition?

Despite still being in a state of germination this little blog has had its fair share of email – mostly abusive of course. And generally from those who frequent petting zoos for carnal satisfaction (they’re probably French…or Australian). But I was inspired by one note which drew my attention further (I was already well aware of them) to the Super 14 cheer leaders.

“They have no place in the game” said Mr Groan from Twat-head on Claptrap, “they do nothing but pollute the purity of the sport and detract from years of tradition and value”. Now I pondered on this pearl of wisdom for all of about ten seconds before a quick Google search confirmed what I suspected.

Mr Groan is an imbecile.

I bloody said so didn't I

So – investigations have taken place, hands have been held up and Deano has ended up with a three year ban. I can’t say I’m surprised, when I first commented on the whole sordid incident I knew it was only a mater of time before all involved got there acts together to sort it out. I’m pleased for Tom Williams and the reduction of his 12 month ban to 4 months. He was merely a pawn in whole farcical episode and didn’t deserve to be left in the wilderness for as long as initially imposed.

BUT – one thing still angers me about this. I don’t just have a bee in my bonnet, oh no, I’ve got a hacking great hornet in my under-crackers. Dean Richards has come out and said he feels his ban is disproportionate. WHAT? That could quite possibly be the biggest load of cod-shit I’ve heard since Jade Goody (god rest her filthy soul) said she was going to finish the London Marathon after a 20 minute training run and a curry. Alright, the man is an England legend and has a place in most of our hearts as a player and some as a coach. But Quins out and out cheated. Imagine if Nick Evans had slotted the drop goal and Leinster (the eventual bloody winners) got knocked out. There’d be fucking lynchings. The fact that Quins lost the game doesn’t matter one iota. The processes and decisions that lead to the ‘blood-gate’ incident were exactly the same and Richards has been dealt with accordingly.

Look at the affair with the Bath players. Matt Stevens was banned for two years for taking a class A substance. Whilst I would never defend the actions of the Bath lads I’d argue the whole affair with Quins is far worse and – as long as they are thrown out of the Heineken Cup this year – they have received a punishment fitting the crime. Quins, with Deano at the helm, have consciously brought the game into disrepute. In the middle of a match they took illegal actions in an attempt to win the game. Old Matty S had a drug problem off the field which spilled into his career, it’s not as if he was injecting nandrolone into his neck at half time in order to boss the scrums. Disproportionate Deano? Fuck off.

Tour de force

Well, it has certainly been quite a Tour. Aside from Lance Armstrong stunning the critics with his podium finish, Wiggo and Cav have done the Brits proud. Although, I’m not sure how much Mr Cavendish appreciates being called a Brit, I know how tetchy the Manx can be. But, this tour has set 2010 up nicely. Particularly as Contador and Armstrong could no longer hold their tongues and unleashed hell on each other today.

Next year, we’ll have team Astana with the 2009 champino Alberto Contraception going head to head with team Radioshack (classic) led by seven time Tour winner Lance Armpit, who will no doubt have poached his long term Directeur Sportif, Johan Bruyneel from Astana, as well as his US Postal and Discovery Channel running mate and tour hard-man George Hincapie from Columbia.

But, we shouldn’t be fooled into focussing our attentions on these two teams alone– although there will be fireworks between them – the brothers Schleck will, again, be a handful in 2010. Andy Schleck demonstrated what a class act he is in the mountains this year and when he attacks, Christ, everyone knows about it, he will definitely win the Tour, it’s just a question of when. And, lest we forget the new 100% British team which should be gracing the Tour next year. It is truly amazing that a British team will contain one of the favourites for the general classification as well as the favourite for the Maillot Vert.

However, if anyone is going to challenge Contador for the yellow jersey next year they need to man-up in the mountains. Armstrong didn’t have his old bite, Schleck needs one more year to hone his strength and Wiggo, well, Wiggo now knows he can mix it with the best of them. If he can use this year as a bench mark, improve further and get a decent team around him, he could be a real contender.

Bring on Rotterdam, 2010.

Olympic skin tone

Yesterday, Lord Coe was aboard the Javelin Rocket – or whatever it’s called – blasting towards Stratford at 3,792 mph waxing lyrical to the assembled “dignitaries” on the games, the stadia, the budget and how everything is going swimmingly thank you very much.

Great news. I am a big supporter of the UK hosting the games, always have been. And personally, I think to hell with the cost – IT’S THE OLYMPIC GAMES. We get the opportunity to host the world’s greatest sporting event once in a generation - if we’re lucky - so an opportunity like this MUST be embraced. Two fingers to the naysayers – if I had my way all those opposed to the games would be forced to carry out the duty of filling the swimming pools in the Aquatic Centre using only a tap and a thimble, before being sent to Coventry for the entire month of August 2012 to reflect on what inhibited, miserly, tight arses they’ve been.

But, one thing that struck me yesterday as I leafed through the coverage of London 2012’s 3 year countdown and watched the various news reporters looking distinctly out of place in their bulbous hard hats. How the fuck does Tom Daley get so tanned?

Every time I see the little media tart paraded in front of the press his hue is increasingly dark. OK, OK, I know I shouldn’t be taking the proverbial, he’s just won the World Championships and he’s 7 years old, bully for him. But can someone, somewhere, please explain where this melanin phenomenon has appeared from? From what I can gather, diving is a predominantly indoor sport, particularly when training in the UK. Given the amount of training needed to become a World Champion in any sport, I’d wager that young Tom spends a lot of time indoors. Even if he was training outdoors, he lives in the UK and a tan of that position on the Dulux chart is just impossible to achieve in our temperate climes. His parents – because of course they’re on telly all the time as well – don’t seem to have any major tanning issues so he’s not got any real genetic inclination to bronze. Could it be a bottle job? That is the most likely explanation. But for someone whose career involves plunging into chemical filled water, is this the best option?

I have to admit I’m at a loss, I’ll leave it open to the floor. But, one thing is for sure, if it is the real deal and he carries on at this rate he’s going to be a leathery mess by the time the 2012 arrives, and no-one wants to see that in a pair of Speedos.

Deano should do the honourable thing

Back in April I was watching the Quins Vs Leinster game unfold in complete disbelief. Disbelief at the luck, or lack of it, suffered by Quins. To lose Nick Evans was a blow of the highest order. His replacement, Chris Malone, a solid performer but more of a Premiership journeyman than an out and out match winner could do the job, I thought, but it would be a big ask. Not that it mattered. In minutes he was off as well leaving Tom Williams, a winger, to salvage the result.

To their credit Quins remained in touching distance, until, five minutes from time when a drop goal was needed to win it, the bombshell hit. Williams walks off, blood all over his mouth, and Evans is brought back on. Then, the moment which completely threw the spanner in the shit. Williams winks.

You bell-end. Why wink? If he hadn’t made this simplest of errors Quins may have got away with it. As a result the club have been investigated and found guilty of cheating, slapped with a £215,000 fine and Williams has been banned for 12 months.

I have to agree with Damian Hopley, Williams’ punishment is disproportionate and unfair especially as Dean Richards, the man who would be in control of any underhand tactics, has got away scot free leaving the fledgling Tom Williams facing a career threatening break.

Williams cannot and should not be singled out. Only a complete dick head would believe he acted alone. When Evans was brought off, the substitution was registered as tactical. TACTICAL? His leg was hanging off. To describe this as tactical is, at best, insulting. Of course, what it meant was Evans could return to the pitch as a blood replacement which he did after Williams left the field with the fabricated cut to his mouth. This in itself also leads me to believe that Williams couldn’t have acted alone. With 5 minutes to go in a match as tight as that, the last thing you are thinking about is, how am I going to cheat to get out of this? You’re concentrating on the next move, the next phase, how to get the team into a winning position. Williams must have been ordered to do the necessary to get Evans back on.

Whoever it was at Quins who instigated this charade, the buck stops with Dean Richards. To be fair, Harlequins have held their hands up and said the acquittal of Richards and the physios on misconduct charges was inconsistent and maybe there is still time for Deano to do the honourable thing, he was an up front and honest (in the Jim Telfer sense) player, it’s time for him to be an honest coach. What ever happens, what doesn’t change is the fact that a young man’s career now sits in the balance because of the decisions of others. Tom Williams I feel for you.

Simon Shaw my Lord, Simon Shaw.......

I am yet to make up my mind on whether I like Stephen Jones, The Times' chief rugby correspondent. He quite often talks sense - his opinions of the ELVs and the various fuck-wits that forced these ridiculous notions of change onto the great game sit very comfortably with my own. But, he quite often throws in a clanger of Brian Moore sized proportions. Not that I can think of a specific one now (isn't it always the way) but they are significant enough to cast doubt in my mind as to whether I fully condone his views.

But, there is one subject upon which I can categorically agree with Jones, Simon Shaw. In Jones's article for the August edition of Rugby World he describes Shawsy in the same breath as Martin Johnson and John Eales. WHAT?? You may say. The man only has 54 caps (including 2 Lions caps). Pre-fucking-sicely says I. He is one of the greats in-spite of his caps record.

The man has 54 caps but could easily have had 100 if it had not been for narrow minded coaches not willing to take the risk on his size and bulk. Yes he suffered playing in the same era as Jonno, but whose to say that Shawsy and Jonno couldn't have forged a partnership similar, if not superior, to the likes of Botha and Matfield in more recent times.

I grant you Shaw has blossomed with age, he has worked out how to use his height, weight and power in almost perfect symphony and his performance in the second Lions test this Summer was testament to that. But, his career as a whole puts him up there in the echelons of the greats.

First capped for England in 1996 against Italy he has been on at least the periphery of the England set-up ever since, only injuries forcing his exclusion all together. He made it to the 2003 World Cup picking up a winners medal and an MBE and the 2007 World cup final. He has toured with 3 Lions parties and it's a travesty he only picked up his first Lions cap in what will surely be his last tour for the men in red. The fact he was omitted from the first test in 2009 is another coaching blunder resulting in a record not being as full as it should.

His domestic record is perhaps the most impressive. In May 2008 he became the first player ever to play in 200 Premiership matches and I'll wager very few others go on to do the same, he is also the only lock forward to ever score a drop goal in the premiership. At Wasps he has collected three Premiership and one Powergen Cup winner's medals, the Heineken Cup twice, the Tetley Bitter Cup twice, and the Parker Pen European Shield. A truly awesome haul of silverware. And, he is showing no signs of imminent retirement, the man is 36 but could seemingly go on for at least another couple of seasons which will take the length of his playing career to over 20 years. Unprecedented.

But, for me, the moment which showed the shear class of the man was after his man-of-the-match performance in the 28-25 epic 2nd test in Pretoria in 2009. This was, as Stephen Jones described it, his career game. Jim Telfer in 1997 described a Lions tour in South Africa as a players' Everest. Shaw not only summited his Everest, he threw in K2, and the north face of the Eiger for good measure. He was simply awesome. Mere mortals may have taken solace in their man-of-the-match award but for Shaw it did not register, the game was lost, the tour had gone and the tears welling up in his eyes almost brought the room of lads I was with to tears as well. Legend.

So, Stephen Jones. I wholeheartedly agree with your sentiment and, on this occasion, I encourage others to do the same.