Paul O’Connell: Paul O’Connell is someone who looks like God designed him as a drunk bet using an experimental 'Minotaur' template. He is a terrifyingly large man and the only player that requires a Heavy Vehicles licence to run from one end of the pitch to the other. At 6ft 7 and 18 stone he isn’t the fastest player but this just adds to his, already considerable, intimidation factor. Those extra few moments it takes him to make the tackle give ball-carriers ample time to realize what a spectacularly bad choice it was to take up professional rugby.
He’s a proponent of the new ‘choke tackle’ system of defense, because apparently he didn’t feel that normal tackles were violent enough.
Seriously. There are no pictures of this man where he doesn't look objectively terrifying.
Ronan O’Gara: Many people, including myself, have said nasty things about O’Gara but in his defence he’s always had the perfect comeback: 1039 points! O’Gara is like a custom video game character who put all his points into kicking power and accuracy but didn’t have enough left over to cover running or tackling. The Cork man may not be able to tackle or carry the ball but to be completely fair to him it’s hard to do either of those things when you have a fucking sniper rifle instead of a leg.
Cian Healy: Cian Healy is the kind of forward that ball-carriers have nightmares about. His nickname is apparently ‘Church’. I'm assuming because many a poor player has hurriedly made their peace with God in the face of his rapidly approaching figure.Healy is known for having to constantly replace his contact lenses during the match, presumably so he can better see the looks of fear on players faces as bears down upon them. When he’s not making attacking players immediately regret ever touching the ball he enjoys DJing. I have no idea whether he's any good or not but even if his set was two hours of vuvuzela music I still wouldn’t be brave enough to criticize him.
Healy plays 'Swagger Jagger' for the third time. Dares anyone to say something about it.
Stephen Ferris: Stephen Ferris is.....actually you know what? Fuck it! A picture says a thousand words (all of which in this case are some variation on ‘Holy fucking Christ!’ and ‘Aaaarggh!’)
That’s Ferris picking up the Australian scrum half Will Genia and running with him for 15 yards. You’d think that carrying a fully grown man would slow him down but it actually took two of Genia’s teammates to rescue him before Ferris could kick the poor fucker over the bar in a drop goal attempt. I think it's a testament to the bravery of the Australian team that they kept playing after seeing one of their players being used as an executive squeeze toy.
Sean O’Brien: Sean O’Brien worked out long ago that running around players is tiring and inefficient so he much prefers to just run through them instead. Getting hit by Sean O’Brien is marginally less painful than being hit by a train but at least the train doesn’t wait for you to get up so it can do the exact same thing again 5 minutes later. The only reason he wears a scrum cap is so he doesn’t have to pick bits of defender’s teeth out of his hair. Wheelchair salesmen send him Christmas cards.
This is actually a fair fight.
Jonathan Sexton: Sexton is a racehorse cleverly disguised as a human being. It's whispered that he’s the successful end result of Irish scientists trying to create an O’Gara/O’Driscoll hybrid. He’s stronger and faster than any Fly Half has a right to be and while he can’t consistently match O’Gara’s terrifying accuracy he makes up for this by occasionally showing up and winning matches single handedly. His 28 points (including two tries) in last year’s Heineken cup final was one of the most spectacular comebacks in rugby history. The only reason the Catholic church didn’t declare it a miracle is because they were afraid of the competition. Despite his game changing abilities Sexton has often had some confidence issues when it comes to big international matches, which, to be honest, is something I find a little bit endearing in someone who’s clearly the son of Zeus.
Brian O’Driscoll: Ireland’s captain, star center, leading try scorer and all-round general messiah O’Driscoll is who Batman dresses up as for Halloween. He moves at speeds more usually associated with sports cars than human beings and generally does so with his nose brushing the turf since his centre of gravity is apparently somewhere around his ankles. For the first two years of his career he was just known to defenders as ‘a green blur that went past me at knee height and filled me feelings of inadequacy’. He had a nearly career ending injury in 2005 when he dislocated his shoulder but then decided that playing with two shoulders was for pussies anyway and went onto become the player of the tournament in the 2006, 2007 and 2009 6 Nations championships. That’s not beating injury, that’s kicking injury to death and then fucking injury's girlfriend on it's still warm corpse.
He broke the Irish try scoring record and then decided that that just wasn’t impressive enough and went ahead and broke the 6 Nations try scoring record as well. I could list all his other accomplishments but doing so would make me and every single other human being look incredibly inadequate suffice to say that the only reason he let the Irish team play so badly in the Autumn internationals is so he could show Jesus that isn’t such a big deal to come back from the dead.
A confused Brian struggles to understand the alien concept of 'failure'
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