8.20pm: 20 minutes gone. Serge Betsen has gone off, looking very injured. He won't be back, so that means one of France's great players has gone. But Richie McCaw gets penalised and then warned by the ref, Wayne Barnes, of England. 'No more infringing Richie,' he says. That's a blow. But not to worry, New Zealand score first with a Dan Carter penalty. It's 3-0 to us.
Then Luke McAlister makes a clean break. Damn! It's down at the other end of the field, we seem miles away, but we do see his clever flick infield to Jerry Collins. McAlister then gets a return pass and he scores! Around us the crowd thunders its approval and only a few of us purse our lips at the good fortune our team had, as we watch on screen the possibility of a forward pass go unsighted by Mr Barnes.
We'll take it, as well as Carter's conversion which flies over. It's 10-0 to US! I repeat - the All Blacks are - US!
8.30pm: Our confidence goes sky-high! Another Carter penalty and its 13-0 to 'we kiwis'. We are happy, though I decide not to hug the big bloke from Murchison who is sitting next to me.
8.35pm: Oh well, Lionel Beauxis gets a penalty for France. Now 13-3 is the score. And around this time France actually put in some excellent phases, which is disconcerting. Good driving play and a lot of kicking from fullback Damien Traille and flyhalf Lionel Beauxis.
8.40pm: Halftime. 13-3 to the All Blacks. Half of the stadium empties to the bathrooms.
8.50pm: the second half now. Byron Kelleher makes an early great little outside break but it comes to nothing. Come to think of it we haven't seen much of him in the game, and neither have we seen Joe Rokocoko or Sitiveni Sivivatu yet. Nor Mils Muliaina. Hmmm&
Anyway what's this? A French try is disallowed but Luke McAlister is not only penalised but he is off for a yellow card obstruction. France should have taken a scrum I reckon and gone for a seven-pointer but instead they are playing safe, Beauxis kicks his second penalty. Its 13-6 now. Hmmm again. They're actually playing well. A worry.
9pm: The first substitution occurs. Keith Robinson is off to be replaced by Chris Jack. How come that didn't happen the other way round Mr Henry? Our popular 'Robbo' hasn't exactly starred in the game. (The supporters only use Christian names when they are talking about their All Black heroes. By contrast they haven't a clue about who most of the French team are.)
9.05pm: Bloody disaster! A great French rush is rewarded with a well-taken try by Thierry Dusautoir, the flanker. "Who missed the tackle?" we shout to each other. 'Bloody McDonald that's who!' says someone (the use of Christian names being forgotten for the moment) Beauxis converts. Cripes its 13-13!
Never mind we're OK, there's plenty of time!
9.15pm: Oh Gawd! Dan Carter is now limping off. We worry a lot but hey! It's OK because here comes 'Our' Nick Evans as a replacement,
Anton's off too and Andrew Hore is on. So all is still well. But Richard Loe, who is sitting in front of me turns and pulls an exaggerated worried face.
No, it's not; that's just Loey's normal face! I think.
9.25pm: Here we go! Drive after drive from the All Blacks and this time we are watching in close-up. It is great when it's right in front of our seats. We can hear the French players calling in desperation and we can hear the bones crack! They surely can't survive this! Hore makes a massive heave for the line and somehow it goes to 'Rodney' who barges over. It's a try! Rodney So'oialo, you bloody bee-yooty! And right in front of us too.
This is great! Its what we have come for! 18-13. But err, it could have been slightly better. McAlister took the conversion and missed. Maybe Evans should have taken it? Still we'll take 18-13. Don't the French fold when the pressure goes on?
To hell with my prediction!
9.29pm: The French defence is looking good. They hold out a couple more New Zealand attacks. Nothing is happening for our backs. But nothing for their French opposites either. There's still a lot of kicking back and forth.
9.31pm: Look out youse! Bloody Michalak is into the game. Beauxis is subbed off. What will this mean? That Michalak can do anything you know. He is a Carlos Spencer type player, but our guys will watch him for sure!
9.32pm: But what's this - quelle horreur! The first time Michalak touches the ball he skips past the flailing tackles of several All Blacks (was that McCaw who dived and missed?) and Michalak dashes 40 metres forward. It is the fastest and most elusive running of the game. But it is worse than that. He draws the man and passes to Yannick Jauzion and the French inside centre runs in a brilliant try.
The crowd goes mad, well the French part does. We kiwis sit in silence. The conversion goes over and France is in the lead for the first time. It is 20-18 to them! "How did that bloody happen Keith?" says some clown from the other row.
I don't answer.
Watches are double-checked. There are 11 minutes to go. "That should be enough, shouldn't it, Keith?" (This time I have to speak, "Don't ask me mate," I mutter, "how should I bloody know?")
9.32pm: Now it is really bad. Nick Evans has only been on the field 12 minutes and he is suddenly also limping off. He made one slashing break but in taking a long stride when he was tackled he has maybe torn something in his leg.
Never mind, it's desperate, but it's lucky that 'Luke' McAlister is back in the game and he comes into first-five. "Good old Graham Henry, the rotation thing is working great!" says someone. We'll see now though. The pressure is on and a time bomb is ticking.
9.35pm: Timing is approximate only now; my note-taking is awful now; each scrawl is a series of wild scribbles from this point on.
New Zealand attacks and a pass for a French in-goal clearance goes to Michalak on his wrong foot. He has to swing a clearing kick wide to where Chris Jack is waiting in the wings. If he catches it we will be home free. Only a teeny French winger is between 'Jacko' and glory. But hell! Things are really bad. The ball bounces and skids straight through the big man's legs and runs into touch. Jeesus!!
[A pause here to take a breath folks, this is getting more painful to set down on paper. Did you hear the bad joke about the soccer coach berating his goallie who had let an easy opposition shot go through his legs. "Sorry coach," said the goalie after, "I guess I shoulda kept my legs shut." To which the coach thundered, "Not you son, your mother!"]
Funny the strange things I think about when the ball goes through Chris Jack's legs!
9.38pm: I am running out of notes now. There are none left to quote to you directly with. It is my memory now which tells me now of countless New Zealand attacks but all are defended by desperate French tackling.
The crowd size is put up on the scoreboard. I don't know why I have written it down. 71,699. Who cares? We're in deep trouble; no sorry they're in deep trouble, the All Blacks are on their own out there!.
9.39pm: McAlister tries a late drop-goal. It sails wide. That would have won us the game. France is defending again. The excitement is a tumult. The French crowd are going crazy! I swear the lid has risen off the Millennium Stadium!
9.41pm: 80 minutes is up on the clock; and then it is down to a seemingly slo-motion spotlight run by the little Jean Baptiste Elissalde, the French scrum half. He grabs the ball from a scrum and starts running in glory - running towards his own goal line - but he has not lost his head. He is only straying as far as he can away from All Black grapplers who might steal the ball off him and steal the game.
Instead he kicks high into the stands, towards where the French team's wives and sweethearts are sitting.
And the game is over! We have lost! Our team is out! France will progress.
The All Blacks will go home.
("Now you'll be happy," says the man from our bus who thinks I am a traitor! Oh well, c'est la vie. I might say to him later, "Who did pick the win correctly, mate; you or me?")
9.42pm: But right now I watch the teams embrace each other on the field. The noise around us is huge. In the aisle a young Frenchman is jumping up and down with glee and hello he's embracing everyone, including moi! He is mad with excitement. Richard Loe, from the row in front of me, turns and says, "Keith from now on it's big pints we drink, OK!' He disappears up the aisle behind me.
It had been a real thriller of a test, one of the most gripping I have ever seen. But now as the players leave the recriminations will start, well won't they? It's a cruel world, so Graham Henry look out!
His plan to endorse the rotation system, and the holding of top players out of the Super 14 competition, the dilution of club and rep teams to accommodate spending on the All Blacks, the pouring of millions into the 'Brand' of the All Blacks. The debate will go on for years&.
I turn to lead my group of supporters back to the bus for the ride to the airport. I had confidently told them that, "I know the way out; I have been here so many times before." But my gang has gone. They left straight away. Disappeared and disappointed? I haven't a hope of finding them. Anne will be mad at me! She had earlier said, 'lead them out,' and right away I'd felt I had to be a bit like Solomon himself.
In the concourse the noise is overwhelming. Cheering, hooting and questions everywhere. ("Whaddya reckon Keith?" people call out. In that moment I wish I'd had a career as a butcher's boy or a bus-driver!)
And then out of the din came one clarion call. A lone young man in an Australian accent is standing against wall, and just shouting one cruel word to the world, 'Chokers! Chokers!' he cries until I have passed by and his droning has merged into the mayhem. We will have that to bite on for four more years as well.
Ouch, that call will be hurting every New Zealander now. And maybe forever more..
10 pm: I reach the bus at the back of the stadium where our people are standing in the dark. On the way a young man had grabbed me around the neck and tried to tell me that he was 'gutted!" We are, all of us mate. TV1 News is also there; I search for immediate answers for them. As I talk another bloke grabs at the microphone and yells a rude F--- word. Go away you silly b-----!
On the bus the news is quietly passed around. Kristin David, one of the very nicest of our tour ladies, (who is married to the champion Cook Strait swimmer of the '60s, Barrie Devenport, who is with us too) has won the sweep. She had a score of 21-20 to France, a brilliant effort in picking the score, really. My pick only won second prize! I announce I am donating the 20 Euros back to the team's bus fund. The people seem happy at that.
11pm: Our plane takes off back to Lille. We saw Jonah looking stunned there at the airport. Poor bloke, with people all around him as usual. Is their no place where he can get peace in the world.
Flying along, I snooze against the window and wonder with amazement at what we have just been part of. It is New Zealand's worst performance at a Rugby World Cup. Our team is out at the quarter-final stage. "Will we have to qualify in 2011 Keith?" says someone, obviously worried now about the future.
11.30pm: We touch down in Lille. The Customs people are nice. It's late and they seem to recognise tired and disappointed fans. We are ushered through double-quickly.
Soon we are in our bus, and our ever-popular Welsh driver Andy Martin, offers his sympathy. He will now take us through the night to Paris.
Sunday, October 7
We arrive in Paris at 5am!
We are heavy hearted yes. But you know? A sing-song in the bus, a drink or three, a little quiet music and another snooze and what we have been through all seems as far away, as if in a hazy dream. It becomes as distant as the morning Paris mist is resting over the Seine River.
We stumble aboard the Seine Princess. Ahead of us is a five-day cruise out to the Normandy coast and back. We will return in time to Paris for the semi-finals. It will be a perfect way to recover from the length and drama of today's pressures and frustrations.
The rest of the tour will be fun won't it? With no rugby pressures to live through till the end.
But&it is still hard to take; the All Blacks are OUT of the 2007 Rugby World Cup.
Will the sun even bother to come up tomorrow?
Diary Entry closes.
Keith Quinn at kqrugby07@hotmail.com
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