Getting there by any means

Trevor Brennan's Diary: Planes, trains and automobiles. Whatever it takes, the Irish usually get there in the end, and it's not just the Munster supporters who will travel by any means to follow their team.

Last Wednesday I received a phone call from one of the Toulouse sponsors, Guy Morell, asking me to come along and watch the touring Connemara All Blacks' under-17 team play the local Balma under-17s. Guy has a holiday home in Connemara so I made my way down to Balma that night after training.

Watching one of the coaches, you'd swear it was an under-17 World Cup final the way he was running up and down the pitch, effin' and blindin' at the referee. I just couldn't get over this.

It took them two days to get here which I couldn't understand as there are now daily flights to Toulouse. They took a bus from Connemara to Rosslare, took the boat to England, took another boat to Cherbourg, and then hopped on another bus to Toulouse. I suppose that's all part and parcel of the commitment to these tours. Because of the Easter weekend, the cost of flights had gone up that bit more.

While they headed off, the Monkstown under-17s came in on the Thursday.

They were managed by Harry Byrne and Derek Garvey, and Harry was the manager of the Leinster under-18s when I was young fella so anything I could do for him was a pleasure. I had gone on an under-18 tour with Leinster to Paris when he was the manager . . . a few years ago.

Myself and a few lads had overstayed our time when we got stuck up the Eiffel Tower. We had only two scheduled hours in Paris but it took us two hours going up the Eiffel Tower and three hours coming down it. Harry kept reminding me how the bus was going around the Champs Elysees in circles for three hours trying to find us.

I sorted Harry out with 35 tickets for Friday's match and then met up with him on the Saturday night after they had beaten Montauban under-17s. Himself, Derek and the young fellas had a fantastic trip.

That's the way rugby has gone. Small clubs like Monkstown don't have an awful lot to offer these youngsters other than trips, with other big clubs trying to poach their better players. It reminded me of my Barnhall underage days, when we had trips to Jedforest and Glasgow.

I arrived down to the club on Thursday to pick up a bit of gear on the way to our training run in Le Stadium. After a good run-out, we settled down in the hotel on the Thursday night, when the team was announced. I was othe bench. But I couldn't be too disappointed as I didn't expect any changes after the team ran up 70 points against Brive the previous week.

We had our usual build-up. Guy Noves made his speech underlining how important the quarter-final was and how every game from now on until the rest of the season was a final. We couldn't afford to lose this one and it would have to require a massive team effort.

The atmosphere was simply incredible. All respect to Northampton, they came out all guns blazing in the first 20 minutes but a bit of flair again from Fred Michalak, who is on flying form, with the intercept try set us on our way.

David Gerard and Christian Labit were the first forwards to come on and with 20 minutes to go I came on for Fabien Pelous, who got a bang on the head.

Although the game was won by then, it was great to be a part of the game and whole occasion.

I'd been getting a bit of slack from the boys who said I was looking too serious during games. So, as we were going around the pitch, the players were jumping up and down to the Stade anthem, qui ne saute pas, n'est past Toulousain (who does not stand is not Toulousain).

As the boys were jumping up and down at one end of the ground, I broke out from the group and did my own little Irish jig, which made the newspaper headlines and was on the TV. I got plenty of stick afterwards from the boys, calling me the Michael Flatley of Toulouse.

I managed to skip the reception and fly down to the bar to meet friends and family, who looked like they'd started off early in the day. I noticed one particular guy in the group, Froggy O'Neill, was missing. Apparently he'd gone back to his room at 6.0 for a nap and woke up with his match ticket in his hand at 11.0 that night. He'd been waiting to come to Toulouse for two years, and then he managed to sleep through the game.

The Northampton team came into the bar that night, and I know how hard it is to show the face when you lose. But in fairness they all came in, and mixed well with the Toulouse players and supporters of both teams who were there.

We had a recovery session the next morning and a few of the lads looked the worse for wear.

A friend of mine who owns a vineyard had an open day for my family and friends, who did some "wine-tasting" for most of the day. I went home and watched the Leinster-Leicester game. To my surprise, Leinster didn't seem to perform on the day and Leicester ran away with it.

It was disappointing to see Shane Jennings and Victor Costello on the bench. With Victor's experience and rugby ability, to see him come on with 20 minutes to go was a shame, I thought. Jennings had been one of Leinster's form players, scoring four tries in a great European Cup campaign and no disrespect to Keith Gleeson, but he hadn't played competitive rugby at that level in over a year.

On Sunday we had the brothers and my father over for a meal, and to watch the Biarritz-Munster game. Munster gave it their all, as they always do. Only for a few decisions that didn't go their way, the result could have been different.

Monday came and there was no more talk of the European Cup. We've two big games coming up, away to the leaders Bourgoin on Friday, and then at home to Clermont Auvergne the following Saturday, before the semi-final against Leicester. It's the business end of the season now.

Yesterday we had a light training session. The backs normally finish about 20 minutes before us but this time they had to stay out 20 minutes longer.

So Christian Labit, Fabien Pelous and Gregory Lamboley went through the pockets of all the backs. We're all sponsored by Peugeot and they swapped car keys on all the key rings.

We had a good laugh after lunch watching the backs come out to the car park, trying to open their doors and wrong cars bleeping away and being unlocked, and then having to sort out whose keys were which. I'd say some of them struggled to get home by tea-time.

(Trevor Brennan's regular Heineken European Cup column can be read on the ERC website, which is at www.ercrugby.com.)