England vs Ireland at rugby.

What a game it was. A thoroughly northern hemisphere affair. No elegant passes out to the winger who skips like a gazelle down three quarters of the pitch, arcing around slightly after outrunning the hapless last line of defence, to touch down under the posts.
No. This was good old fashioned grappling about in the mud. Inching forward and considering every inch a sort of victory in itself.
Big men hitting each other in a big way. If this hadn't happened on a sports pitch, just about everyone involved could have criminal charges brought against them. As it was, no-one even got sent off.
In rugby, aiming a few well weighted punches at your opponent's head after the scrum has broken up, is invariably described as, "A little bit of nonsense."
The referee, who is like a firm but fair teacher at some public school, steps in, gives the culprits (or, chaps) a stern talking to, and it's back to the terrifying, bone-crunching action.
In football this would never happen.
In football, you don't fight. That's because handbags aren't allowed on the pitch.
You just sleep with your team-mate's wife and then ask for a pay rise.
I do have to say that today's very entertaining game was spoiled slightly by the assistant commentator.
I don't see the point of assistant commentators at the best of times, but today they had chosen some guy called Brian. I either missed or they never said what his assistant commentator credentials were, but I assume he was English.
He mostly said things like, "That's a disgracful decision by the referee, to give Ireland a penalty."
Or, " You can clearly see that Ireland were offside there. That try shouldn't count."
It was like I had invited a skinhead in Union Jack boxer shorts round to my flat to watch the game.
I found that during tense moments of the game I couldn't help myself from shouting, " Shut your fat pork-pie-eating mouth, Brian!"
While he said, " England should have had a penalty there."
It spoiled the game a little, as I found it stirred feelings of nationalistic animosity in me, which is totally against the spirit of rugby.
The game was good. Thirty big lads trying to get a ball from one end of a field to the other.
Brilliant!