Six Nations Rugby kicks off today. There’s nothing quite like it. I won’t say the rugby is incidental, but I can’t think of another sporting event where the playing element is secondary to the event itself. For my friendly aliens who read this blog, the Six Nations is a competition between the national rugby union teams of England, Scotland, ireland (both Northern Ireland and the Republic), Wales, France and Italy.

It’s one of the oldest continuing sporting fixtures in the world. It started as the Home Nations in 1883, then France joined in 1910 for it to become the Five Nations, and Italy made it the Six Nations in 2000.

Of course everybody wants to win, but what drives Wales, Ireland and Scotland hardest is the need to beat England, comfortably the richest and biggest union, with the world’s largest playing base. The fervour is intense. It’s nice to win the championship, but beating England is the prime motivation.

The second motivation is the travelling. Up to 40% of the crowds — all the games in the 80,000 seater stadiums are always sold out — are travelling supporters. I used to go the the France Wales match every other year, and Paris filled with hopelessly drunk Welsh revellers was not a pretty sight. There’s no hooliganism, by the way; all that takes place on the pitch.

Today France will be playing Italy and Scotland plays England. The convention is to name the home team first, so the games will be in Paris and Edinburgh. Tomorrow it’s Ireland vs. Wales in Dublin.

What’s like it? The Palio, a horse race in Siena, takes place twice a year, on July 2nd and August 16th, and has done since the 14th century. Ten of the sixteen parishes of Siena race against each other (there’s no room to run all sixteen at the same time) and the support for each parish is obsessive, verging on the fanatical. Just like the Six Nations. I have good English friends who cannot bear to speak to me if Wales beats England.

The only other contest which stirs as much passion is the American Presidential election campaign. This is a continuous event with a brief hiatus once every four years between the Tuesday after the first Monday in November and January 20th the following year. Although technically not a sporting event, all the same elements are there — the passionate partisanship, the dissing of opponents, the microscopic analysis of form, the long, drawn-out foreplay — culminating in the climax, the brief ejaculation of the actual event.

Supporters can’t switch sides. It would be as unthinkable for a Welsh supporter to root for England as it would be for a Democrat to follow Trump. Being Welsh, THE match of the season for me will be England v Wales on March 12th.

Ireland has won the championship for the past two seasons. England has a good chance this year, as has Wales. Scotland cruelly lost to Australia by one unjust point in the Rugby World Cup back in October while England lost to them by 20 points. France has a new coach, the one they should have had ten years ago. Italy are the wooden spooners.

My forecast for Scotland v England later this afternoon? Partly bonnie, with occasional glowers.

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