Forget twelve counties! Leinster has unequivocally been the untouchable property of a collective number of postcodes that have lent their denomination to the ‘even’ persuasion since Crowell first drew up the plans. What a dilemma of depressing proportions arose when it became apparent that Leinsters surplus of tickets was to requirement. Notwithstanding the supposition that Leinster is a province, when bodies were required to populate a venue larger than your average horse field the painful evidence pointed to the proof that the ya fab Fintans from D4 had pushed the true salt of Leinster from the fold resulting in the possibility that blue seats would be occupied by red jerseys whether they be from Kilkenny or Clare, Limerick or Louth, Cork or Carlow.
Rather than get the ovens blazing and humble pie produced en masse the country was warned of Leinster Rugby’s answer to the Taliban beard patrol that would be in effect on the day. Munster and Leinster rugby does not suffer rivalry as a sporting contest but invariably as the pale versus beyond, a mindset that Dubs will claim to be two way traffic.
To all intents and purposes Munster rugby has always been about Rugby, an opinion not shared by the boys in blue suggested by the cacophony of jeers that reverberate around Kiely's whenever Munster take to the field, whoever they might be playing. A visit to the Ballsbridge alehouses whose patrons embody ‘the soul’ of Leinster Rugby will disappointingly reflect that a Munster loss is as good as a Leinster win. That being said I’m proud to see Irish Rugby bearing the potential to sweep the board in Northern Hemisphere competition and wonder will a sea of red still be more evident in Edinburgh nevertheless shouting for Leinster.
