Dear Callum or Mr. Pitch Invader,
I hear you like a beer or two and are up for a laugh.
Well, I wondered if you fancied following up your pitch-invading antics at the Principality Stadium the other day with another sporting challenge.
As you won’t be there again this weekend – or any other weekend again, for that matter – it has to be onwards and upwards elsewhere, doesn’t it?
How about trying to climb into the ring with Tyson Fury in his next world heavyweight championship fight? Perhaps you could dodge a few punches.
That would be a real laugh! Or what about running onto the track at Silverstone during the British Grand Prix next year to play chicken with the F1 cars? Now that would be worth watching.
High adrenaline rush, maximum danger and I’m sure you could pick up more than a measly 20 quid from your stingy mates for taking on another ridiculous dare.
Let’s face it, jumping over a two-foot high hoarding to get onto the Principality pitch really is a bit tame for someone of your notoriously laddish character.
I wonder what your kids made of seeing their father being ridiculed and abused by Welsh fans as you were dragged out of the stadium on Saturday evening, like a late night drunk?
Perhaps your son or daughter could start a new game at home of throwing beer in daddy’s face, just to help you savour the memory of the day you won your infantile bet.
No doubt the missus, your parents, your rugby club and everyone else who has supported you throughout your life was equally proud of your performance at the home of Wales’ national sport.
That strange, defiant look on your face as they led you away. What was it? A sense of accomplishment?
I suppose you really did play a blinder in picking the precise moment that Wales launched their best attack of the game. I’m sure Liam Williams would love to welcome you to a training session this week to have a chat about timing his entry into the line for maximum impact.
We’ll never know if he could have scored because you felt it was more important to win a bet and get a few minutes of fame than it was to support your team.
Like every drunken pub bore who stumbles about, unwanted, into other people’s business, the responsibility for your shit-faced shamelessness lies mostly with you, but not entirely.
Your landlord – in this case the Welsh Rugby Union – has been running a disorderly house for years.
They’re happy to keep serving problem drinkers like you – and, yes, it is a problem when you fuck up our chance of beating the world champions – just in order to keep their tills ringing in 17 separate bars.
They’ve ignored the complaints of other decent customers, cynically fobbed them off with bullshit ploys like the “alcohol-free zone” and now shake their heads in feigned surprise when the policy they have cultivated has bitten them hard on the backside.
If the WRU really felt no pangs of conscience when tries were blocked from view by some drunk bloke’s arse-crack as he swayed down a row, then should we really trust their pious words when the arse-crack gets in the way of our full-back?
Are you actually a real rugby fan, Callum, or just one of those far too many people who use the stadium as a bar and regard the rugby as background noise?
The pitch invader at the Wales v South Africa game.
What an absolute gimp. pic.twitter.com/S88na4VYbO
— Dan Squire (@dan5qu1r3) November 6, 2021
What do you do for a living? Imagine if someone came running into your place of work and got in your way at a critical moment or forced you into a mistake.
There were more than 70,000 fans in the stadium at the weekend and you were the one who spoiled it, forced one ending instead of the possibility of another.
At least the other idiot who went onto the pitch the weekend of the All Blacks game had the decency not to do so while the game was in progress.
Not that he is any better than you are. These “banter boys”, these “absolute legends” and their bellend admirers are all bores.
It was funny, once. Audacious, once. Back in 2001 when Karl Power joined the Manchester United line-up in full kit.
After that? It’s a gag already told. Piss off and find something else to do.
The stadium officials have a difficult enough job trying to set the stage for a match of such importance, and ensure everyone can watch in a safe environment, without having to worry about pitch invasions.
Erika Roe once ran onto the field at Twickenham in 1982, bearing her breasts during the game between England and Australia. Seeing you bearing your beer belly as you were forced to take the walk of shame out of the stadium merely added insult to injury.
Stay Classy, WRU. . . You’ve Turned Our National Stadium Into The World’s Biggest Wetherspoons
Predictably, the abuse and the death threats have started coming your way on social media from people even more deranged than you are.
They lack what you lack. Empathy. Any ability to imagine a world outside of their own skull.
Rugby crowds used to be self-policing. They were made up of hard-core ex-players and supporters of local rugby clubs.
As the game has gone corporate, so the crowd has completely changed. It is more about ‘being there’ than supporting Wales.
Welsh rugby fans these days could do with taking a few lessons from their football counterparts for the way in which they back Gareth Bale and his mates.
The Red Wall are actually there to support the team, not for some smug, ego trip.
You should try it, Callum. Supporting your team.
It probably feels much better than the way you’re feeling at the moment.
Regards,
Dai.