Scrumbag

Are you gutted that Joe Rokocoko won't be coming to England?

As the Martin Johnson / Brian Ashton mess enters its 20th day, there's little to look forward to in English rugby. Little aside from the visit of the All Blacks in June. I for one was gagging to see Joe Rokocoko, arguably the greatest player in the world, go toe to toe with what will hopefully be Johnson's England.

But alas young Joseph Rokocokococokoko is almost 100% certain to miss out on New Zealand's tests with Ireland and England in June. The poor chap has had to have a little emergency surgery on a wrist knack picked uo during the Auckland Blues' Super 14 defeat to Western Force last month. He'll be out for most of the summer.

"The long-term risks outweigh any option to keep on playing for the short term," he told the BBC earlier. A man of few words there.

Six Nations Predictions: Wales to go down fighting in Ireland...

Whether you're watching the games in a stadium, in the pub, rugby club or plonked on your sofa... there's some mouth watering action coming our way. Here's my predictions for this weekend's action. Let me know if you think I've got it right, or if I'm (as ever) talking out of my hole...

Ireland v Wales,
Saturday, 08 March 2008, 13:15
No doubt the tie of the weekend. I actually fear that off the field rubbish might scupper the Welsh here. The Gatland Vs O'Sullivan sideshow might distract from the players and Shaun Edwards seems more worried about his English Wasps star Cipriani right now. All that added to the Croke roar, and the Irish actually having a few superb players, it might be too much to handle. I'm sure it'll be extremely close, but I just think Ireland might nick it. Sorry guys.

Scotland v England
Sunday, 09 March 2008, 15:15
Will Ashton live to regret this Cipriani mess. Against any side but Scotland, I'd probably say yes. But the Scottish really are poor right now. Can't see anything but a dull England win here.

France v Italy
Sunday, 09 March 2008, 15:00
Expect more French lunacy, but I'm sure no matter how bonkers the team they'll be too much for Italy in France. The question is, will anyone actually care?

So let me know what you think the scores will be...

Scrumbag has given birth to a Bouncing, Egg-Shaped Baby Boy!

It had to happen sooner or later... Scrumbag has spawned a Facebook group in its image, the cunningly named Son of Scrumbag.

Whoever you are and wherever you're from - in fact, it would be great if you're a stunning brunette from Rio de Janeiro - we'd like to be friends!

Click on the link, join up and you too could be thinking how much more interesting and better-looking than you everyone else is. Don't be shy; just post a profile photo of Calum Best or something.

Scrumbag gets Shiny relaunch in time for the Rugby World Cup

That's right folks - Scrumbag is back, it's on the protein shakes and it's fired up.

In today's blogosphere no single website provides a one-stop talking shop for rugby union news, player features, irreverent humour, analysis, gossip and videos.

Well, that's what Scrumbag is aiming to achieve, by bringing on writers from all the big rugby-playing nations, from current champions England to champions-elect New Zealand, Wales to South Africa. Possibly even France, if the outrageous accent doesn't get in the way.

My name's Jon Jones and I'll be your new editor. I won The Guardian's Big Blogger competition and contribute rugby analysis regularly to Guardian Unlimited alongside names such as Shaun Edwards and Thomas Casteignede. Frankly, my ego is bigger than Lawrence Dallaglio's at the moment, but I'll try not to let that get in the way.

That's enough about me, let's get back to the egg-chasing... Don't forget to come back and check Scrumbag regularly for everything you need in the build-up to next month's Rugby World Cup.

Toni Editorial: "Toni's Pet Catt"

I was 12 when I first met Mike Catt. It was a Tigers match day, vs. Bath, and my Dad and I had just bought our hot dogs and were making our way toward the entry turnstiles. As we meandered along, my Dad pulled me close and whispered in my ear: "that's Mike Catt" and nodded at a man in front of us.

I still remember it to this day. Catt was wearing a yellow shirt - nice it wasn't - and was carrying his jacket over the back of his shoulder. My Dad walked up to him and said hello, chatting about the injury that ruled Catt out of the game, and I stood there, wondering who the hell the bloke was (I was relatively new to rugby at the time). Then, Catt bent down to my level and said "looking forward to the game?". I nodded and he asked me about how long I'd been a Tigers fan and signed my programme for me. And from that moment on, the dye was cast: I was Mike Catt's biggest fan.

I was delighted to discover that not was Mike Catt a bloody nice bloke, he was a hell of a rugby player as well. Naive as I may have been, even I could see he was sheer class. He could do no wrong in my eyes.

Don't get me wrong - I didn't fancy him. Never have. That was Austin Healey. No, my love of Mike Catt is something entirely different, something a lot more meaningful than a teenage crush. I respect him, I respect what he does, who he is, the player he is. No one has ever been quite like Mike Catt. Slick, skillful - he's sees things 10 seconds before anyone else does, a true rugby mind.

As time went on, injuries kept him out of the England team and gradually he dropped out of view. I didn't forget him, though, I kept the faith. Whenever people raved about some new up and coming player, I'd sit sullenly and say I didn't think Mike Catt was done yet. Injuries can be cruel, but I knew he'd come back. I still have an old LiveJournal going back to 2002 and I write a lot that I expect Catt to be back in the England viewfinder soon.

Then, at the World Cup, it happened. He came on as a substitute against Wales and changed the game, probably won it for England. I was perhaps the only person in the world who wasn't surprised.

So I'm still not surprised that Catt, at 36, is still playing amazing rugby. He's one of the most intelligent and talented rugby players to ever grace the pitch. People keep writing him off but he keeps coming back, and while I know he has to retire one day, for the moment I still have one of my great rugby heroes on the field of play, and I love it. No man deserves the England captaincy than him, and I expect great things from him come Sunday.

He won't let me down. Hell, it's been nine years and he hasn't yet. Nine years, nine lives, that's my pet Catt.

Toni Editorial: "The Battle Within"

This weekend it's Ireland vs. England, and I can't wait. Cannot. Wait. It's going to be a cracker. However, pushing aside the problems of myself being English and my husband Irish, the other problem I have about this fixture is that... *whisper it*... I really love Ireland.

I genuinely do. I love the country, I love Dublin, I love the accents and I love the people. I've had four serious boyfriends in my life and two of them have been Irish. I regard a meeting with Brian O'Driscoll as one of the best moments of my life and I have been with this Ireland team through the ups and downs like I'm Irish myself. The only time I don't cheer for Ireland is when they're playing England, but even then, if Ireland win, I'm not too gutted. Remember when Ireland took the Twickenham home record in 2004? I wasn't delighted but hey, better them than anyone else...

In fact, in recent times you could almost say I've been more of an Irish supporter than an England one. I was vehemently anti-Robinson, which stemmed right back from his appointment and my fervent belief that you should never promote from within. I couldn't support the Robinson regime, game plan or style of rugby and though I would never be one of those fair-weathereds who boo the England team at Twickenham, I found watching England hard and watching Ireland easy.

Now is this odd, considering I have no Irish blood in me at all? People seem to think so, but I don't. Yes, I was born in England and will support them until the day I die, but what's wrong with me liking Ireland as well? I look at it as like choosing a political party - who most reflects your own beliefs? Or in this case - who plays the kind of rugby you like to see played? Now I'm a die-hard forwards fan, can't beat a good scrum and I've been privy to the Leicester period of forward dominance, but heck, I like a fancy backs move as much as the next girl and there is something about this Ireland back division that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. And I have never been able to say that about England.

It's not just nationally either. I have been lucky enough to have the pleasure of meeting all three Irish provincial fans thanks to the Heineken Cup and I have gloried in the experience. I always enjoy it when Welford Road hosts an Irish province, because you can't beat it for atmosphere or supporter relations. I was also lucky enough to be at the 2003 Grand Slam game and found myself in a sea of green on the south terrace, but not one bad word was said to me or directed at me. Considering I've been bitched at at Twickenham for - of all things - cheering too loudly, this is a refreshing change and one I cherish. And I know I'm subscribing here to the age old adage about the Irish being friendly, but in my experience, it's bloody true.

With all this in mind, I don't really like it when Six Nations time rolls around and it's England vs. Ireland. It's even worse now that I'm married to an Irishman and the week before the game is spent sniping at one another, but I just don't like it. I will always cheer for England (God, I typed "Ireland" there at first!) but I don't want to hammer the shit out of Ireland like I do when England play, well, anyone else. Only on Grand Slam decider 2003 did I want Ireland annihilated, but that was more out of a desperation to see an English Grand Slam.

So yes, I am looking forward to this weekend, but I am also dreading it. Ireland players I usually cheer myself hoarse about are suddenly the enemy. Green is suddenly a bad colour, the accents suddenly harsh. I'll be glad when it's over, but in the end, genes will out, and as much as I love the Irish... I'd love for England to rain on their Croke Park parade.

Scrumbag has given birth to a Bouncing, Egg-Shaped Baby Boy!

It had to happen sooner or later... Scrumbag has spawned a Facebook group in its image, the cunningly named Son of Scrumbag.

Whoever you are and wherever you're from - in fact, it would be great if you're a stunning brunette from Rio de Janeiro - we'd like to be friends!

Click on the link, join up and you too could be thinking how much more interesting and better-looking than you everyone else is. Don't be shy; just post a profile photo of Calum Best or something.

Scrumbag gets Shiny relaunch in time for the Rugby World Cup

That's right folks - Scrumbag is back, it's on the protein shakes and it's fired up.

In today's blogosphere no single website provides a one-stop talking shop for rugby union news, player features, irreverent humour, analysis, gossip and videos.

Well, that's what Scrumbag is aiming to achieve, by bringing on writers from all the big rugby-playing nations, from current champions England to champions-elect New Zealand, Wales to South Africa. Possibly even France, if the outrageous accent doesn't get in the way.

My name's Jon Jones and I'll be your new editor. I won The Guardian's Big Blogger competition and contribute rugby analysis regularly to Guardian Unlimited alongside names such as Shaun Edwards and Thomas Casteignede. Frankly, my ego is bigger than Lawrence Dallaglio's at the moment, but I'll try not to let that get in the way.

That's enough about me, let's get back to the egg-chasing... Don't forget to come back and check Scrumbag regularly for everything you need in the build-up to next month's Rugby World Cup.

Toni Editorial: "Toni's Pet Catt"

I was 12 when I first met Mike Catt. It was a Tigers match day, vs. Bath, and my Dad and I had just bought our hot dogs and were making our way toward the entry turnstiles. As we meandered along, my Dad pulled me close and whispered in my ear: "that's Mike Catt" and nodded at a man in front of us.

I still remember it to this day. Catt was wearing a yellow shirt - nice it wasn't - and was carrying his jacket over the back of his shoulder. My Dad walked up to him and said hello, chatting about the injury that ruled Catt out of the game, and I stood there, wondering who the hell the bloke was (I was relatively new to rugby at the time). Then, Catt bent down to my level and said "looking forward to the game?". I nodded and he asked me about how long I'd been a Tigers fan and signed my programme for me. And from that moment on, the dye was cast: I was Mike Catt's biggest fan.

I was delighted to discover that not was Mike Catt a bloody nice bloke, he was a hell of a rugby player as well. Naive as I may have been, even I could see he was sheer class. He could do no wrong in my eyes.

Don't get me wrong - I didn't fancy him. Never have. That was Austin Healey. No, my love of Mike Catt is something entirely different, something a lot more meaningful than a teenage crush. I respect him, I respect what he does, who he is, the player he is. No one has ever been quite like Mike Catt. Slick, skillful - he's sees things 10 seconds before anyone else does, a true rugby mind.

As time went on, injuries kept him out of the England team and gradually he dropped out of view. I didn't forget him, though, I kept the faith. Whenever people raved about some new up and coming player, I'd sit sullenly and say I didn't think Mike Catt was done yet. Injuries can be cruel, but I knew he'd come back. I still have an old LiveJournal going back to 2002 and I write a lot that I expect Catt to be back in the England viewfinder soon.

Then, at the World Cup, it happened. He came on as a substitute against Wales and changed the game, probably won it for England. I was perhaps the only person in the world who wasn't surprised.

So I'm still not surprised that Catt, at 36, is still playing amazing rugby. He's one of the most intelligent and talented rugby players to ever grace the pitch. People keep writing him off but he keeps coming back, and while I know he has to retire one day, for the moment I still have one of my great rugby heroes on the field of play, and I love it. No man deserves the England captaincy than him, and I expect great things from him come Sunday.

He won't let me down. Hell, it's been nine years and he hasn't yet. Nine years, nine lives, that's my pet Catt.

Toni Editorial: "The Battle Within"

This weekend it's Ireland vs. England, and I can't wait. Cannot. Wait. It's going to be a cracker. However, pushing aside the problems of myself being English and my husband Irish, the other problem I have about this fixture is that... *whisper it*... I really love Ireland.

I genuinely do. I love the country, I love Dublin, I love the accents and I love the people. I've had four serious boyfriends in my life and two of them have been Irish. I regard a meeting with Brian O'Driscoll as one of the best moments of my life and I have been with this Ireland team through the ups and downs like I'm Irish myself. The only time I don't cheer for Ireland is when they're playing England, but even then, if Ireland win, I'm not too gutted. Remember when Ireland took the Twickenham home record in 2004? I wasn't delighted but hey, better them than anyone else...

In fact, in recent times you could almost say I've been more of an Irish supporter than an England one. I was vehemently anti-Robinson, which stemmed right back from his appointment and my fervent belief that you should never promote from within. I couldn't support the Robinson regime, game plan or style of rugby and though I would never be one of those fair-weathereds who boo the England team at Twickenham, I found watching England hard and watching Ireland easy.

Now is this odd, considering I have no Irish blood in me at all? People seem to think so, but I don't. Yes, I was born in England and will support them until the day I die, but what's wrong with me liking Ireland as well? I look at it as like choosing a political party - who most reflects your own beliefs? Or in this case - who plays the kind of rugby you like to see played? Now I'm a die-hard forwards fan, can't beat a good scrum and I've been privy to the Leicester period of forward dominance, but heck, I like a fancy backs move as much as the next girl and there is something about this Ireland back division that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. And I have never been able to say that about England.

It's not just nationally either. I have been lucky enough to have the pleasure of meeting all three Irish provincial fans thanks to the Heineken Cup and I have gloried in the experience. I always enjoy it when Welford Road hosts an Irish province, because you can't beat it for atmosphere or supporter relations. I was also lucky enough to be at the 2003 Grand Slam game and found myself in a sea of green on the south terrace, but not one bad word was said to me or directed at me. Considering I've been bitched at at Twickenham for - of all things - cheering too loudly, this is a refreshing change and one I cherish. And I know I'm subscribing here to the age old adage about the Irish being friendly, but in my experience, it's bloody true.

With all this in mind, I don't really like it when Six Nations time rolls around and it's England vs. Ireland. It's even worse now that I'm married to an Irishman and the week before the game is spent sniping at one another, but I just don't like it. I will always cheer for England (God, I typed "Ireland" there at first!) but I don't want to hammer the shit out of Ireland like I do when England play, well, anyone else. Only on Grand Slam decider 2003 did I want Ireland annihilated, but that was more out of a desperation to see an English Grand Slam.

So yes, I am looking forward to this weekend, but I am also dreading it. Ireland players I usually cheer myself hoarse about are suddenly the enemy. Green is suddenly a bad colour, the accents suddenly harsh. I'll be glad when it's over, but in the end, genes will out, and as much as I love the Irish... I'd love for England to rain on their Croke Park parade.