Not quite hitting the heights

The forecast precipitation arrived, with greasy ground translating to a greasy ball, and a combination of uncertain footing and handling errors. In theory as the tournament goes on the games get tighter, and there's therefore a bit more excitement. But the Sevens seemed a little flat compared to yesterday.

The USA, being beaten here by Fiji in the semi-finals of the main 'Cup' competition (Who then, Fiji, went on to win the whole thing), aren't bad at this Sevens lark. Their highest overall finish in the Series is 10th, but they've a new coach, and up to this round were sitting 6th (ahead of the likes of Wales and France), and wound up in fourth in the round (after losing the 3rd/4th play-off to England, who narrowly (but frankly meekly) went out to New Zealand 5-0).

Scotland managed to provide the most excitement. As expected they lost their Cup quarter-final to New Zealand, but rebounded in the Plate to beat the impressive Canadians, before succumbing in the Plate final to South Africa. After going 12-0 down they had recovered with one unconverted try, and post-hooter managed to maintain their composure to get a second. All that remained to do was to convert, tie the match, and send it into extra-time. A hard, flat kick looked awful at first, then suddenly hopeful, before crashing off the cross bar and away, leaving Scotland 6th for the round.

The day had started with large bacon rolls in a lovely little cafe by Central Station, then a trip to the Riverside Museum to see some cars and bikes and trams and trains and get onboard a large tall ship. We almost didn't make it, as the bus driver completed his loop without visiting the museum stop, telling us it was a different bus that went that way. There was a barely audible 'fuck' (which was most unexpected from an older Sikh gent) as he admitted, as we rolled towards the SECC where he told us we could get the correct bus, that he had made a mistake, that this was his first time on this bus, and that yes, he had been supposed to go to the museum. Rather than leave us there to get the next bus he doubled back, which all worked in our favour as we'd have arrived before opening time anyway if he'd stuck to timetable.