At any sporting junket involving pretentious national prestige, you can guarantee that the ritzy no-expense-spared ‘resplendence’ of a dire and irksome opening ceremony matters far more than any of the actual sport which follows it. Rugby union’s World Cup curtain-up promises the full phonily festive fanfaronade next Friday (7 September) in the Stade de France in Paris. As the cast of thousands strut their swank and fly their flags in front of presidents, prime ministers and princes — all hands to the pomp — I’ll hope to catch the rheumy eye of a few old hands and we’ll sigh in sweet remembrance of the first innocent village-green fête which launched rugby’s inaugural World Cup only 20 years ago in Auckland.
It was the last week of May 1987. Only the hosts felt the need of such a novelty.
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