Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.
On Saturday night, at the home of rugby league in New Zealand, I spoke ill of people whom I have never even met before. I used curse words on multiple occasions and I may have even taken the Lord’s name in vain. I said some things I now regret, although it is not likely my words were heard by Gavin Reynolds, Chris Sutton or Luke Patten.
I lost my temper, Father, but at the time I felt wronged. It felt like these people were conspiring against me, against our boys, against our country. If it makes it any better, it wasn’t just me — there were another 16,000 people booing and shouting. It wasn’t fair, Father. Why were they allowed to hold down for so long in the tackle but not us? Why did the bunker have to stick its nose in where it didn’t belong? And what was that for, ref? C’mon, they’re offside! Continue reading Inside the confessional