As I reflects on my time in Australia,
Sydney welcomed us with open arms and a sky full of rainclouds. As we rolled into the city, so did thousands of fellow Lions fans, painting the streets in a sea of red. From Circular Quay to Darling Harbour, the energy was electric. The Opera House stood proud, hosting Carmen, while the Harbour Bridge loomed above, soon to be overtaken by 90,000 passionate protesters, turning our final day into a chaotic, unforgettable spectacle.
But the weather had other plans. The clouds that had stalked us from Melbourne arrived with intent. From Monday onward, Sydney was soaked. While the rest of Australia basked in sunshine, we were drenched in anticipation and drizzle, fitting for the storm of emotion that was building toward the final test.
The city buzzed with speculation. In pubs and cafés, the talk was of dominance. “The best Lions team ever,” they said. “A walkover.” Jac Morgan’s name was on every tongue, would the Welsh dynamo ignite a legendary victory, or fade into the background?
As match day approached, the red tide surged toward the Olympic Stadium, 40 minutes from the city. The logistics were staggering 80,000 fans on the move, rain jackets zipped tight, spirits undampened. The drizzle turned to downpour. By kickoff, it was biblical. Fans in open seats looked like they’d swum to their spots. Even the VIPs weren’t spared. Yet, somehow, the players rose above it. The match was gritty, soaked, and far from a spectacle—but we were there. That mattered.
And then, the twist. A 40-minute thunderstorm delay. Fans huddled under the stands, creating lakes with their soaked gear, swapping stories, debating tactics. Was this the moment the Lions lost their edge? Did Andy Farrell gamble too hard with his selection? The questions echoed into the night.
The result? A 2-1 series. The dream of a clean sweep shattered. The Aussies, written off after Brisbane, emerged as heroes. The match had everything, drama, weather, heartache. However, still, the Lions faithful stood proud.
Getting home was another adventure. Trains had been scheduled every three minutes but, no one told them about the delay. Empty carriages rolled away while drenched fans waited, stranded. It felt like Twickenham déjà vu.
As the curtain fell on six unforgettable weeks. A land of beauty, warmth, and mystery. A country that watched us with curiosity, wondering who these red-clad travellers were and what they were chasing. Our taxi driver, collecting us from a crowd of 200 Lions fans heading to the airport, summed it up perfectly: “Are you guys on holiday or what?”
Andy's final Reflections
Was it worth it? Absolutely.
Did the locals care? Not as much as in New Zealand or South Africa.
Who were the fans? A brilliant mix—retired adventurers, solo travellers, die-hard supporters from every corner of the UK and Ireland. The Welsh and Irish were out in force, the Scots riding high on Six Nations glory.
Did we party? We tried—but Sydney’s bars shut at 10pm!
Lingering questions:
Why is Australia so far away?
When will rugby union truly capture Aussie hearts?
Why is their toilet paper so thin?
Will I be back for the World Cup in 2027?
See you pitch side soon, 3 pre seasons to warm the lads up before our first league fixture away to Beckenham on 6th September.
Sydney welcomed us with open arms and a sky full of rainclouds. As we rolled into the city, so did thousands of fellow Lions fans, painting the streets in a sea of red. From Circular Quay to Darling Harbour, the energy was electric. The Opera House stood proud, hosting Carmen, while the Harbour Bridge loomed above, soon to be overtaken by 90,000 passionate protesters, turning our final day into a chaotic, unforgettable spectacle.
But the weather had other plans. The clouds that had stalked us from Melbourne arrived with intent. From Monday onward, Sydney was soaked. While the rest of Australia basked in sunshine, we were drenched in anticipation and drizzle, fitting for the storm of emotion that was building toward the final test.
The city buzzed with speculation. In pubs and cafés, the talk was of dominance. “The best Lions team ever,” they said. “A walkover.” Jac Morgan’s name was on every tongue, would the Welsh dynamo ignite a legendary victory, or fade into the background?
As match day approached, the red tide surged toward the Olympic Stadium, 40 minutes from the city. The logistics were staggering 80,000 fans on the move, rain jackets zipped tight, spirits undampened. The drizzle turned to downpour. By kickoff, it was biblical. Fans in open seats looked like they’d swum to their spots. Even the VIPs weren’t spared. Yet, somehow, the players rose above it. The match was gritty, soaked, and far from a spectacle—but we were there. That mattered.
And then, the twist. A 40-minute thunderstorm delay. Fans huddled under the stands, creating lakes with their soaked gear, swapping stories, debating tactics. Was this the moment the Lions lost their edge? Did Andy Farrell gamble too hard with his selection? The questions echoed into the night.
The result? A 2-1 series. The dream of a clean sweep shattered. The Aussies, written off after Brisbane, emerged as heroes. The match had everything, drama, weather, heartache. However, still, the Lions faithful stood proud.
Getting home was another adventure. Trains had been scheduled every three minutes but, no one told them about the delay. Empty carriages rolled away while drenched fans waited, stranded. It felt like Twickenham déjà vu.
As the curtain fell on six unforgettable weeks. A land of beauty, warmth, and mystery. A country that watched us with curiosity, wondering who these red-clad travellers were and what they were chasing. Our taxi driver, collecting us from a crowd of 200 Lions fans heading to the airport, summed it up perfectly: “Are you guys on holiday or what?”
Andy's final Reflections
Was it worth it? Absolutely.
Did the locals care? Not as much as in New Zealand or South Africa.
Who were the fans? A brilliant mix—retired adventurers, solo travellers, die-hard supporters from every corner of the UK and Ireland. The Welsh and Irish were out in force, the Scots riding high on Six Nations glory.
Did we party? We tried—but Sydney’s bars shut at 10pm!
Lingering questions:
Why is Australia so far away?
When will rugby union truly capture Aussie hearts?
Why is their toilet paper so thin?
Will I be back for the World Cup in 2027?
See you pitch side soon, 3 pre seasons to warm the lads up before our first league fixture away to Beckenham on 6th September.
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