I watched Wales get obliterated surrounded by Englishmen – it was one of worst days of my life

Telegraph

16-03-2025

Saturday's obliteration by England was about as bad as it gets for Wales. Some Welshmen might have been quietly confident before the game; apropos of nothing, I was loudly confident and genuinely thought we would win.
England 's apparent nervousness, the Welsh with nothing to lose, the Principality Stadium roof closed to enhance the 'Cardiff cauldron' – it was all set up for a repeat of 2013, or so I thought as I blasted out the anthem to a standing ovation in the bar at Malvern RFC.
The barmaid even said my rendition of Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau had given her goosebumps – that compliment turned out to be the highlight of my afternoon.
I was at Malvern for a poignant reason. My former Worcester Students RFC team-mate was taken from us far too early. He had already beaten cancer. It came back. And that was that.
In honour of our fallen friend, Jonpaul McGrane, we dusted off the boots, and despite some of the boys having not played for 15 years, managed to beat Malvern 41-29. There were flickers of our former best, and then it was time for the Six Nations main event.
Brimming with Welsh pride and unfounded confidence, I did not hold back, telling my English friends that we would batter Steve Borthwick's men.
Goodness me, how wrong I was. After Maro Itoje had dotted down the first try in just the third minute, I told an old friend that, at the current rate, England would win 210-0 and anything less would be considered a win for Wales. I was joking, of course, but as the daylight faded it started to feel more real.
Wales briefly threatened to bite back – but it was ultimately akin to the kind of half-hearted threat a grumpy dad might make if annoyed and was never going to amount to anything.
By half-time the contest was done and dusted.
Thankfully, I had a raffle to sort out in the clubhouse, which helped take my mind off the whole debacle. My best friends, and those who are usually the most merciless, just did not care.
I vividly remember 2013, when Wales ruthlessly shot down England's Grand Slam hopes. Watching that game with the same boys from Worcester Uni, I was insufferable. Dancing, shouting and just generally being horribly obnoxious. On Saturday, I got to know what my English counterparts felt like.
But then... another twist. As England romped to victory, I could have usually expected a torrent of abuse. If I can rely on my friends for anything, it is abuse. The saddest thing about Wales's 17th straight loss? I got nothing, worse than nothing. The men who would have usually been in my face revelling in Welsh rugby's demise turned to me and said: 'It's not fun when you're this bad.'
I am 37, but this is as bad as I have known it. Sympathy from Englishmen hurts more than mockery.
Matt Sherratt is a brilliant club coach, but, after signs of hope in the loss to Ireland, I have never known a shorter-lived new-coach bounce – and one that did not even result in a win. All we got were glimpses of improvement – and even that might not be enough to chuck the monkey off our back.
Wales are off to Japan in the summer, which should present us with a chance for that elusive victory. But hoping for a morale-boosting triumph over Japan is a measure of how low Welsh rugby has fallen. Even with a fully fit squad available, I am confident of a win.
The only saving grace is that we have been so bad that very few Welsh players will be on this year's Lions tour.
The bigger question is who on earth would want to coach Wales now? The country that expects everything but delivers absolutely nothing. The future could not be bleaker.
Another measure of Welsh rugby's demise was evident on Saturday – a man wearing a Welsh flag as a shirt and being as Welsh as he could possibly be should have been booted out of an English rugby club. Instead, I was embraced and told 'you'll turn a corner'.
That might just be the biggest insult of all.