They were titans.
They faced their demons - a previous mauling which psychologically will have wrestled with their minds
But they did not buckle.
They took the game on.
They're undoing, chinks in their armour.
Mistakes which cost them dearly
Sad sights of warriors limping of the battle field.
The fearsome Habana was no where in sight.
But in true sporting fashion we duffed our caps
We recognised we were beaten by a worthy foe
It hurt nonetheless.
A fairytale on the verge of becoming a fable for generations to enjoy
Son, once upon a time the English showed such fortitude against all odds, they emerged victors, when no one gave them a
cat's chance.
But they clawed. The three lions roared.
But as the evening wore on, a springbok proved stronger at the game.
The lion's rested.
But still these beefed up gazelle-like creatures came.
So the curtain falls for another four years.
England are no longer holders of the Rugby World Cup.
But they stand tall within the fraternity of the beautiful brutal game.
They are the Titans
And that my friends is the end of games
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