FROM THE ARCHIVE WEDNESDAY, MAY 28th, 2003:In this diary first published in The Irish Timesa few days after the 2003 Heineken Cup final, TREVOR BRENNANcharts the many highs of a hectic few daysfor Toulouse
THURSDAY MORNING
THE COUNTDOWN BEGINS
As I’m packing for a return to the old sod, I start thinking back to how it all started, eight months ago. A 28-23 win over London Irish, five wins out of six in the pool stages, a quarter-final at home to Northampton and then the biggest match of the season at home to Munster. A one-point win. For me, that match should have been the final.
We meet up in the club to pack the bags and have the breakfast and hit the road. I’d packed the usual and two extra items. A bottle of holy water from Lourdes and some grass from the pitch, a piece of which I intend to give all the boys before the match.
Along the side of our plane at the airport is a huge sticker: “Allez le Stade”.
I’ve been on quite a few planes in my career but nothing as bad as this. It was like being on a rollercoaster ride for two and a half hours. I really enjoyed the 50-minute journey out to the Fitzpatricks Hotel, taking in all the sights I hadn’t seen for nine months: Drumcondra, Croke Park, the Point Depot and then all along the coast road to Killiney.
The staff at the Fitzpatrick were brilliant. I hit it off with the chef pretty quickly, so while the lads are eating the usual pasta with just a little olive oil, I’m eating bacon and cabbage, with the butter melting down the spuds. The lads ask me: “Can we get some of that?”
FRIDAY
LANSDOWNE REVISITED
I didn’t take part in the team run as the hamstring had flared up again last Tuesday. Ten minutes into the session, the heavens absolutely opened and the boys started cursing the Irish weather again.
After a lot of calls from family and friends wishing me well, I slept like a baby. I was far more relaxed than before the semi-final, and I’m sure that if it had been Leinster I’d have been much more nervous.
SATURDAY
I’VE NEVER SEEN SO MANY GOOD LUCK CHARMS
When we get to Lansdowne Road we have the Irish dressing-room. The last time I was there was for Ireland’s win over England and the boys are happy they’re not in the away dressing-room, because some of them were there earlier in the year when they lost to us in the Six Nations.
All the boys throw their bags down in the middle of the room and say: “Where’s your place?” because players tend to have their own regular spots.
All sorts of good luck charms are handed out by the manager and Guy Noves. One of them, which is handed out to everybody, has a four-leaf clover pasted on to a slip of paper with a Stade Toulousain symbol. Somebody went to an awful lot of trouble over that and we’re pretty happy with it.
Then Guy Noves gives us each a piece of paper with an angel on one side and a scene from an old battle on the other. I couldn’t really understand the coach’s explanation so afterwards Emile Ntamack explains to me that the head priest in the basilica in Toulouse had phoned Guy Noves to tell him he’d had a bad vision about the match.
So Guy Noves had spent an hour and a half with him earlier in the week, and this guardian angel of Toulouse, St Sernin, and this famous battle which took place there were traditional ways of giving us the power on the day to fend off bad visions.
Knowing that holy water is another pre-match custom for big games, I take out my bottle and splash a little on each player. I get a few funny looks. The manager and some of the senior players also do it for finals, and during the warm-up the manager sprinkles the water all along the lines.
During the warm-up, Fabien Pelous tells me I’ll be leading the team out. “We know this moment is special for you so we want you to do it.”
While we’re waiting for Perpignan, Emile Ntamack comes up to me. “Bon chance, Trevor. Nous gagnerons pour toi aujourdhui,” and he gives me a kiss.
When I run out I turn to shout at the boys behind me but there’s no one there and I’m shouting at nobody, so I have to make out I’m saluting the crowd. But that one moment is one of the highlights of my career to date. Just that one moment.
It’s another game of two halves. We’re 19-0 up at half-time but the second half is Perpignan’s and we run out 22-17 winners. Champions of Europe. I was happy enough with my contribution. I didn’t get a chance for some ball-carries out amongst the backs, which I normally do, just driving the ball on in mauls or close in, and otherwise just making my tackles.
After the match myself and David Gerard were given permission to skip the post-match meal and we slipped off to Kielys in Donnybrook, where I had two absolutely fantastic hours.
The owner, Pat Cremin, had 20 bottles of champagne on ice. The place was crammed to the walls with Barnhall people, a sea of blue with a few Old Bective and St Mary’s faces thrown in amongst them.
Gerry, Johnny, Shaugho and the rest of the staff ensured there were quite a few Die Hard Brennans being passed around. We were due back in the airport at 8pm and I was worried we wouldn’t make it, but a Garda pal made a squad car available for myself and David.
We must have been quite a sight to any passers-by. Two 6ft 4in guys in the back of a squad car breaking our hearts laughing as we made it out to the airport in record time. I could have filled the entire paper with all the little things that happened over the weekend, it was so eventful, never mind a column.
The one sour note was the the whole ticket situation. A lot of the people told me on Saturday night that when they rang Ticketmaster they were told there were no more tickets left and they’d have to buy them outside the ground on the day.
An awful lot of friends and families, with children, including one group of 50 who went to the game from a wedding, were then told the terrace tickets were sold out and only stand tickets for €48 were available. One guy had to spend €240 for tickets for himself and his wife.
They’re looking to promote the game yet hundreds of schoolboys were turned away after going up to the ground, even though there was plenty of spaces left on the terraces. They turned away genuine rugby supporters or overpriced the match, yet I’ve no doubt they could have filled that ground if they’d wanted to.
I know all of Barnhall came out in force yet underage kids had to fork out €48 as well. It’s a disgrace and I was really upset about that. But I’d like to thank all those who did, and it was great to see so many people there with Munster jerseys who had block- booked tickets in advance.
The return flight wasn’t much better than the journey out but the few beers helped settle the old nerves. When we got back at 1.30 in the morning, there were 2,000 supporters waiting for us, with drums beating. Hundreds of cars provided a convoy to the club brasserie, which was kept open for an all-night party. About 1,000 people turned up for that and some stayed until 7a.m. Or so I’m told.
SUNDAY
A CIVIC RECEPTION
There were about 10,000 out on the main square when we were introduced individually and displayed the trophy from the main balcony of the ‘The Capitol’. Emile Ntamack kept saying “I can’t hear you” as they chanted “Tou-lou-sain” louder and louder.
For me it was an amazing sight and I thought it was brilliant, but one or two of the players reckoned we should have kept the celebration until the end of the season. That night I ended up playing pool with Iron Maiden and getting free passes to their concert the next night. But I couldn’t go. It was back to work the next morning.
MONDAY
AGEN ON OUR MINDS
Guy Noves tells us how proud he is of us, and what a memorable weekend it was. But it’s over now. No more mentions of Perpignan and the European Cup. We’re playing Agen next Saturday in the French Championship in a repeat of the semi-final of last year, which we lost.
He shows us the tape of last season’s match and berates lads for mistakes, getting really angry. He explains he still has a lump in his throat from that game last year and he has to get rid of it.
