It's not really Christmas until the Turks are stuffed, perhaps; but after the initial euphoria of the Ospreys' 60-17 solution to the "Best of the West" conundrum, things felt a little flat. Had the victims been Munster or Leicester, there would have been unbridled joy; but in truth I take no pleasure in seeing any Welsh side take so fulsome a thrashing, even at my own team's hands. With my Welsh hat on (I don't have a Welsh hat; it's an expression, okay?) it's unhealthy for the national team when a region struggles. The Scarlets' subsequent recovery to beat the Dragons suggests that their capitulation at Liberty Stadium was a blip. I hope so, as fervently as any of my monocular cousins.
On New Year's Eve, I sat disconsolately behind the wrong set of posts at the Cardiff City Stadium, as the team that had scored 60 points mere days ago seemed bent on conceding a similar total to the Blues. The second half reversal of fortunes meant that I got to see precious little action, but it was enough to suggest that the Ospreys had experienced a "blip" of their own. They tore into the Blues with a vengeance, and after leading by 21 at one stage, the home side did superbly well to cling on for a two-point win. Both teams will feel that they achieved something. They're both right.
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