It would be fair to say that we love rugby. Since getting together in the mid 1980s, Andy and I have always enjoyed watching club matches, and more recently followed and supported the boys on their own rugby adventures too.
At first, when we lived in North Wiltshire, we would go to watch Bath play. We would arrive early and often stand on the metal ‘flowerpots’ staging for up to 3 hours before kick-off, securing our favourite spot on the front row, on the halfway line. Often by the time the matches started, I wouldn’t be able to feel my fingers or toes, but would keep warm by screaming myself hoarse, caught up in the atmosphere, and willing our team on, to win. After the matches, we would march at a stiff pace, back up Lansdowne Hill to the car trying (and more often than not, failing) to get some feeling back into my feet.
They were heady days of amateur rugby, and it was in many ways a very different game to the one we watch today.
When we moved to Devon, our allegiance shifted and we started watching Exeter Chiefs, following their rise to the premiership and again shouting so much during the matches that we would leave with sore throats (much to the embarrassment of our boys).
It’s something that we all enjoy as a family, and as the mum of 2 boys, I love that there is an activity I can enjoy with them, even now they are well in their twenties. It may not be everyone’s choice, but I can honestly say that I love spending a few hours screaming our players on, celebrating the highs, and feeling devastated by the losses. There is a buzz, a camaraderie (even between opposing fans), and an atmosphere that you don’t find at any other sport
Now we are in Provence, we have shifted allegiances again, and although Exeter Chiefs are still our UK team of choice (I went 2 weeks ago to watch them play against Harlequins with our youngest) …
… we have started heading down to Aix to watch Provence Rugby, trying to get to as many home matches as we can. Only in Provence can there be a Cicada for a mascot!
Watching rugby in France is a totally different experience from watching it in the UK. The noise and atmosphere are off the scale, and the passion of the supporters is quite incredible. Popping down to watch matches at Toulon, the cry of ‘Pilou -Pilou’ fills the stadium, the words of the chant a real call to battle on behalf of the Rouge et Noir
Last year, we collected our youngest from Marseille airport and drove straight to Bordeaux to watch Exeter Chiefs play La Rochelle. The packed stadium was a sea of yellow and black, with a La Rochelle flag having been placed on every seat. We found ourselves as 3 plaintive voices, trying to make ourselves heard, surrounded on all sides by friendly La Rochelle supporters, all drowning us out with the chant of ‘Ici,ici c’est La Rochelle’. It was an utterly incredible afternoon (even though we were on the losing side), and we fell a little bit more in love with watching rugby in France.
Having Provence Rugby just an hour’s drive away has meant that we have been able to indulge our love of the sport at a much more local level, and it has been a real joy. It’s also been a chance to see an old Chiefs player, Tomas Francis play again, as he now plays in the black kit of Provence, rather than the black kit of Exeter.
There is a wonderful legend behind the colour of their kit (simply black jersey and shorts). It is said that when Aix Rugby Club was founded, money was short and to begin with all the players donated a shirt to the team, which inevitably led to an eclectic, multi-coloured offering. The only way that these could be standardised as a single colour was to dye them all in the darkest colour possible … Black … this became the club colour and gave it its nickname of Les Noirs
They currently play in the Pro2 league (effectively league 2), but the approach to matches, the play and the passion of the support is equal to that we have experienced when we’ve watched the Top14 matches here, or Premiership games back in the UK.
They play at the Stade Maurice David, just on the outskirts of the city, a great little stadium, which is regularly full, when we have been.
On match days, the areas around the stands are filled with food stalls, not offering the pasty, burger or hot dogs that we have been used to in England, but a great selection of locally produced delights to tempt the hungry spectators.
It’s effectively a wonderful little street-food market, with everything a visitor could want, from seafood platters, to spit-roasted lamb tacos (with tiny, salted roast potatoes), empanadas and wood-fired pizzas, charcuterie platters and even pasta options too.
It’s almost worth going just for the food on offer …
There are picnic tables spread out around the pitch and under the stands, which are filled with families and friends catching up, over food and often a bottle of wine from the Cave au Vins too. It’s a very different pre-match atmosphere and often these tables are still filled, up to 5 minutes before kick-off, when the stadium seats suddenly fill up.
Because the Pro2 matches are played on Thursday and Friday evenings, often kick-off doesn’t take place until 9pm (making it a late night for me), but it does mean that there is the opportunity for a great light show with the floodlights flashing in time with the music just after the Provence Rugby song and before the players come into the pitch.
Once the players emerge, it’s like every other match that sees me jumping up and down, chewing my nails with anxiety, and joining in the chants of ‘Ici, ici, c’est La Provence’ that ring around the ground. The whole thing is accompanied by the music from the local Oompah Band that plays before, during, and after the matches. In fact, they even change ends of the pitch, with the team at half-time, filling the stadium with wonderful French Oompah classics, often with backing vocals from the crowd.
In fact, it’s been an incredible season and Provence have finished top of the league, which is an amazing achievement and means that the season isn’t quite over for them yet.
We were there a few weeks ago, celebrating with the team after they secured their semi-final place, not wanting to leave the stadium until the ecstatic players and coaching team had dragged themselves off the pitch.
Then, after a nail-biting first half, a week ago, against Grenoble, Provence proved majestic in the second half, storming to victory (watched by Andy & our eldest as I was back in Devon) and firmly secured their number 1 spot. It would be fair to say that a good time was had by all!
But winning the league doesn’t automatically result in promotion, rather securing them a home fixture semi-final against the winners of play -off matches that take place this week. So next Thursday, Provence will play Grenoble again, with both semi-final winners playing for a prized spot in the Top14 next season.
The stakes couldn’t be higher, and next week’s match will be an incredible event, with the stadium filled to capacity, and Provence supporters in full voice, screaming the team on (hopefully to victory)
Needless to say, we have been trying to get tickets, although the capacity of the ground isn’t huge, so in many ways getting hold of them has been a bit like trying to find hens’ teeth! Some have had to go to Grenoble supporters, and the majority have gone to season-ticket holders (which all being well will include us next year), and sponsors. But today, we had a message to say that a few would go on open sale at midday.
We were just walking into Rustrel, after a lovely walk down through the ochres, when I got the message, so we ordered coffee and sat at the Boulangerie, setting an alarm for just before 12, so we could start our coordinated effort to get tickets, which feel as valuable as one of Willy Wonka’s Golden Tickets.
When the clock hit midday, we both started trying to get into the ticketing site, along with what seemed to be half of Provence too. Then we hit gold, or thought we had, as Andy managed to select 2 seats, but our joy was short-lived as we couldn’t put them in our basket to pay. Someone else must have selected them a nano-second before. Then a frustrating few moments later the note came up that the event was sold out.
We had failed and almost needed another pain au chocolat to cheer ourselves up.
So unless more tickets become available, we’ll be watching the match on Canal+, from the comfort of our sofa, screaming in the haven of our living room (hoping that my voice will travel the 50km to the ground!)
But we will be there in spirit, if not in person.
Allez Les Noirs !
Vaucluse Dreamer 