New Zealand's centre Ma'a Nonu is tackled during a quarter final match of the 2015 Rugby World Cup between New Zealand and France at the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff, south Wales, on October 17, 2015
World Cup quarter-finals weekend is the single greatest weekend of rugby and, it goes without saying, occurs just once every four years.
It beats the hell out of the semifinal weekend because there's twice as much fun and it's spread over at least two venues. It's four times as much fun as the final, which are usually joyless affairs anyway. (1)
There're no gimmies (although leading into the weekend I would have said Australia v Scotland was the closest thing to a lay-down misère since the All Blacks played Canada in 1991). Every team that has ever made a RWC quarter-final has lost one. Nearly all have lost two.
Adding to the frisson this weekend is the replay of the nightmarish, in New Zealanders' eyes at least, 2007 quarter-final, and the fact all four match-ups are a north-south clash.
I'm intrigued by this. As I enter the autumn of my life - I can tell this by some rogue eyebrow hairs that could have come from a wirebrush that have started to make their presence felt - I have tried not to be so dismissive of the Six Nations. Where once I would disregard as pure bunkum those northern scribes who reckoned the Rugby Championship nee Tri Nations could never match the old tournament for intensity and passion, now I'm more inclined to at least sit through the odd match before coming to the same conclusion.
Now here's four in a row to either confirm or deconstruct my prejudices. Honesty call: I'm expecting only one northern team to make the semis and even then I'm calling Ireland-Argentina a one-score win either way.
A southern bonanza might be what I expect, but it won't make me feel any better about life. I'd like Wales to beat South Africa and although in many ways it would be a travesty, it would be bordering on hilarious to see a buoyant Australia sunk by Vern Cotter's Scotland, but I just can't see it.
The first two times I've put myself through these retro diaries, there has been an element of a chore about it either though unfriendly time zones or unappealing match-ups - I challenge anybody not named Jones or Davies to actually look forward to Wales v Uruguay - but not this time. I can't wait.
Retro diary: Watching 640 minutes of Rugby World Cup action
What happens when you watch 480 minutes of rugby in a weekend
My 17 loyal readers will now know the drill. But in case you need a refresher, here's the rules: watch every minute of the weekend's World Cup rugby in real-time, with no MySky rewinds to assist.
Thoughts are faithfully tweeted (@dcleaverNZH) and recorded via notes so as not to be wise after the fact.
SUNDAY 3.45am
Not as perky as I should be when the alarm pierces the night. I'd been in The Tron catching some cricket on the Saturday (2), and there's nothing quite as enervating as early season cricket on slow wickets, a chill crosswind and a night-time drive back up the Waikato Expressway.
Liam, 10, doesn't stir when I wake him as promised so I'm doing this one on my own. I know how he feels and truth be told I'm not at my most conversational at that hour, but part of me will miss the endless questions. (3) There will be no comfort food either. My delicate circadian rhythms prevent the ingurgitation of even something as harmless as coffee at that hour, so this will be nil by mouth - a pure rugby experience.
4.20am
After the anticipation comes the cold reality of knockout rugby. Wales make all the early running but it's South Africa who lead 9-3 thanks to the deadly combination of Wayne Barnes and Handre Pollard.
George North comes close to scoring but Wales have lacked a cutting edge when it counted.
Everybody talks about Australia's heroic, 13-man defence in the game that would have seen the winner play Scotland and the loser here, now, but Wales played into their hands. They're doing it again here. South Africa have nothing but hoist it high and chase and tackle. That can't be enough to win a World Cup, can it?
Dan Biggar pulls off a miracle. Meeting midfield bomb with midfield bomb, he kicks and reclaims from an admittedly weak Willie le Roux effort. He then sets Gareth Davies free to score. It's a stunning piece of skill and is met with completely understandable hyperbole.
"Dan Biggar - arguably the best ten in the world at the moment," tweets Brian Moore.
You'd have to agree that Biggar is certainly in the argument, but I'll say it until I'm blue in the face: a truly world-class No 10 would have taken over when Australia went down to 13 but he, along with several of his teammates including veterans Sam Warburton and Alun Wyn-Jones, failed to see the wood for the trees.
4.25am
Springboks kickoff, something mundane happens, they get a penalty, Pollard kicks it, they lead 12-10. With quarter of the match gone, Pollard is on target to kick 48 points.
I sigh.
Biggar, who is having a storming match, it must be said, nails a droppie on the stroke of halftime. Wales lead by one and it is the very least they deserve.
5am-ish
There's a bloke down in Wellington called Toby Robson. He pops up from time to time in the Dom-Post. He knows a heck of a lot about rugby. Try to get into a technical argument with him and he'll embarrass you. He tweets: "All the people lamenting it's not a free flowing game this is a w cup knock out match. Winning is all that matters."
He's right, of course he is, and he's one of the good guys, yet there is something about the matter-of-factness of it all that chews away at my soul. I feel an internal monologue coming on but I'm clutching for the right words.
What I think I want to say is that we accept this sort of negative proposition all too readily, like it's etched into Moses' tablet right before "Thou Shall Not Steal", and it's the main reason why rugby is so bloody inaccessible to the vast majority of the world.
Look, I know that Johan Cruyff's Holland never won a Fifa World Cup, nor did the Mighty Magyars, but at least when they were losing to teams of a more negative bent the rules were simple and easy to follow. It is not incumbent on every team to play an entertaining brand - different strokes and all that - but when rugby teams play a slow, grinding, even cynical style, nobody outside of code-heads get it. This is where rugby shoots itself in the foot.
I guess what I'm really trying to say is that even within the confines of 140 characters, I wish smart-as-a-tack rugby people would challenge rather than perpetuate lazy RWC orthodoxies.
5.20am
What this game desperately needed was for Wales to go ahead by more than three and that wish is granted. They lead 16-12.
Suddenly the Boks have to play a bit of footy. The ball starts being promoted beyond second-five. It actually turns into a blistering contest. Not a great contest, nobody has the skills to elevate it beyond the ordinary, but full of bump and crackle all the same.
5.45am
Wales are brave and limited but the game ends on a piece of individual inspiration, with Duane Vermeulen peeling off a scrum and flicking the ball to Fourie du Preez. Really the try is down to a horrific defensive decision by wing Alex Cuthbert who picked the worst time to lose trust in his teammates. It's hard to be too harsh on Wales though. That they've even managed to field a backline is something of a minor miracle after all their injuries.
Du Preez takes the plaudits. He's pulled the strings well but if I'm being honest, I reckon he represents South Africa's problems as much as their strengths - perhaps they're actually one in the same. Oooh, deep.
At least he'll get a lot of love from his coach.
South Africa 23 Wales 19.
SUNDAY 7.30am
The alarm sounds a lot more musical this time around. The family decamp to a coffee-and-croissant party down the road. I have an irritable tabby for company.
Ian Jones looks uncomfortable. Next to him is Christian Cullen. They cross to Justin Marshall. The ubiquitous Jeff Wilson is bound to be somewhere nearby. For Christ sakes, Sky... '99 and all that. At least I can take heart that Sumo Stevenson wasn't involved, except maybe on a metaphysical level.
Even though you're meant to keep a veneer of neutrality in the position, there's usually an edge whenever the All Blacks play a knockout match at a World Cup. Not this time. I can't explain why. Perhaps it's the cat. I'm rambling now, perhaps there are some subliminal nerves kicking in.
7.59am
You know why I love the haka? It helps erase the fingernails-on-a-chalkboard feeling I get every time I stand through our anthem.
Seriously, has there ever been a worse lyric penned than this? "God of Nations at Thy feet/ In the bonds of love we meet/ Hear our voices we entreat/ God defend our free land."
Actually, there's this: "Desmond says to Molly 'Girl I like your face'/ And Molly says this as she takes him by the hand/ Ob-la-di ob-la-da life goes on bra/ la-la how the life goes on." Not McCartney's finest moment.
8.10am
It's 3-3 and there're only 10 minutes gone but I can't help but think the All Blacks have got this. It's a Dan Carter thing. He's ruined a try-scoring opportunity with a silly grubber but that doesn't bother me. I love the way he's moving around the park, directing the point of attack from close to the advantage line.
He's engaged and that makes all the difference. Too often since, well, for a long time now, he's drifted alongside games as if he's almost too cool to be involved. I'm quite certain that's not what he's thinking, but too often he has sat back in the pocket and been one of these nebulous game managers.
Against Tonga and already against France it's obvious he's a game scruff-of-the-necker rather than manager. His directness in turn allows Ma'a Nonu opportunities to attack Freddie Michalak's weak tackling shoulders.
Just as I'm thinking this, a resurgent Brodie Retallick charges down Michalak and with a smile as wide as the River Taff, scores.
Michalak departs with a leg injury. It's sad for the likeable veteran, but I wonder if it might be the best thing that could happen to France. He was going to be bullied all day first by Nonu, then later by Sonny Bill Williams.
8.20am
The All Blacks put together as bad a five-minute spell as is possible, but Morgan Parra misses a gift penalty that would make it 10-9 and any false sense of pressure is lifted.
8.30am
Carter hits a comical droppie that is charged down but redeems himself by running a clever line back to support a retreating Julian Savea. After Dane Coles sets up a quick-ball ruck the All Blacks swing left and Conrad Smith and Nonu brilliantly create a yard of space for Nehe Milner-Skudder and it's half a yard more than he needs.
NMS beats Brice Dulin with ease but it's fullback Scott Spedding's positioning that is the real head-scratcher.
It's obnoxiously early, but 'Game Over' I think.
10am
I gave up making notes. Every time I tweeted it felt like I was looking up to see a prop offload, so here are a few random notes:
• The All Blacks were collectively brilliant and it is impossible to single out an All Black that played poorly. When the worst crime is Kieran Read dropping a simple kickoff and Wyatt Crockett giving away a dumb penalty, you know it's been a good night at the park;
• As a spectacle, it was the perfect antidote to South Africa-Wales, which was all about muscle. This was all about skill;
• It pays to make Julian Savea really angry, so here you go - Jules, your hair looks silly;
• France were terrible and gave up on defending from the inside, which is why the offload was so spectacularly successful;
• Wayne Barnes might have known all the rules in the earlier match, but Nigel Owens has a vastly superior feel for the game;
• Sky's commentary team need to ease back on the 'Oh My Goodnesses';
• Wesley Fofana is a fine player; France should use him.
According to the world's media, the All Blacks have gone from struggling to prohibitive favourites inside 80 minutes. That's okay, it's probably how most of us feel.
New Zealand 62 France 13.
Monday, 12.55am
When the Argentines cry during their anthem it always means... nothing. They always cry during their anthem.
I'm backing Ireland to win this by less than a score, out of loyalty rather than any conviction. I lived in Cork for a couple of years and enjoyed the craic, so come on Ireland. (4)
Tournament sponsors MasterCard put out a preview tweet asking which of these sides will contain the heroes that get their countries through to their first World Cup semifinal.
Oops. Oh well, they only came on board in 2011, the tournament after Argentina's third-place finish.
1.15am
What a start. Two beaut tries to Matias Moroni and the under-rated Juan Imhoff liven up the early morning. Ireland look bedraggled and lacking leadership (which is understandable given Paul O'Connell, Sean O'Brien and Johnny Sexton are missing).
It suddenly dawns on me that Argentina are a better side. Ireland are going to have to dig into untapped reserves to find a way back.
2.05am
Ireland tap reserves and find a way back to a 17-20 deficit. They do it by slowing the game to walking pace, by hoisting the ball and attacking the Argentine breakdown. It's crushingly negative - though the try to Luke Fitzgerald is nifty - but it works.
Los Pumas are going to have to tidy up their discipline. Jerome Garces is looking a little grumpy.
Sometime after 2.05am
Loyalty to my old Irish Examiner colleagues be damned. I've switched sides. It's not a north-south thing either, I just am loving the way Argentina are trying to play. No kicking, just shifting the ball from one point of attack to the next. Juan Martin Fernandez Lobbe who I thought, whisper it, was a bit past it, is playing like a lion.
Bang, bang. It's all over. Joaquin Tuculet and Imhoff score in the final 15 minutes and another Irish RWC campaign comes screeching to a halt. Joe Schmidt can rightly point to a catalogue of injuries and a suspension as huge factors in the loss, but there's something else at play here too.
In 2011 they played their pool match with Australia at Eden Park like it was a final and had nothing left when it came to playing Wales in the quarter-finals. This tournament they went all out against France last week. It cost both teams, big time.
There might be something in this Steve Hansen theory of just shifting through the gears, though the All Blacks and Argentina got lucky by having three weak sides in Pool C. Even though they were ultimately disappointing, Ireland and France had each other to deal with as well as another Six Nations side, Italy.
3am
The scenes in the Argentine coaches' box are heart-warming I try to imagine Hansen, Ian Foster, Grant Fox and various video analysts indulging in a similar sort of fully clothed orgy of man love but the picture won't develop. All I've got is Wayne Smith bouncing around trying to find someone to hug, eventually getting what he needs from Marshall on the sideline.
Argentina 43 Ireland 20.
Monday, 4am
I can't really be bothered with this game. I know who's going to win and my DNA prevents me enjoying Australian success.
I am, however, impressed with an old schoolmate of mine, Hurricanes assistant coach Jason Holland, who told me before the quarters that it would be an all-Southern Hemisphere semifinal line-up and it would cause all sorts of soul-searching in the north.
Good call, Jason (5) .
4.50am
I had written earlier in the week that Bernard Foley had reached his high point and it would a slow slide for the rest of the tournament so when he fails to convert any of Australia's three first half tries, I feel vindicated.
Scotland are better than expected and put together a thrilling 10-minute period that culminated in a try to Peter Horne. The northerners lead by one at the half but I'm expecting Australia to comfortably pull away in the second spell.
Sometime after 5.30am
Finally, Australia comfortably pull away after a soft Tevita Kuridrani try. They lead by eight with 15 minutes to go.
6am
Okay, so how do you explain that? I'm jacked up on multiple coffees by now, so my nerves are frayed, but this just turned into an instant classic with one of those endings that will be debated forever.
For a start, the Wallabies lost the plot while sitting on an eight-point lead, conceding possession then an easy penalty to the feisty Greig Laidlaw.
It's hard to say what the biggest brain explosion was then - bringing on Nick Phipps who is chronically incapable of handling pressure, or James Slipper throwing the intercept pass to Mark Bennett?
Whichever one it was, the Wallabies are now down by two with five to play. With a little over two to play, Phipps slides out on the rain-slicked surface - surprise, surprise - and Scotland need only to win their lineout, rumble through a few pick-and-gos or kick deep and make Australia try to bring it back 80m in the rain. Instead they bollocks up the lineout and, what!? I hate exclamation marks, but I can't help it! A penalty!
Jeepers, I thought Craig Joubert had already harshly put Sean Maitland in the bin for a deliberate knock-on. The sanction far, far, far outweighed the crime. Now he's called an offside against a Scot from a bobbling ball that I swear last came off Phipps. A quarter-final can't be decided like that, surely?
It is. Foley, he of sinking stock, calmly slots the goal for a one-point win.
Australia 35 Scotland 34.
6.15am
Twitter is not a nice place to be for Craig Joubert. Okay, thought the call was rough, but the whole ref-hate thing is getting out of hand. Laidlaw, impulsively, inflames the situation by failing to hide his disgust at the decision and Joubert is last seen sprinting from the Twickenham turf.
Oh no, another round of World Cup ref hate(6). Joubert joins the queue with Paddy O'Brien (hated in Fiji), Derek Bevan (hated in France), Wayne Barnes (hated in New Zealand), Steve Walsh (hated), and Bryce Lawrence (hated in South Africa).
So it is an all-south semifinal line-up, but not quite the way it was drawn up.
7.30am
I'm starting to think about my Semifinal Power Rankings for tomorrow. New Zealand will clearly make a jump. Australia I'm not sure about now. Too tired to form coherent thoughts. Log on tomorrow to see what I've come up with.
Former All Blacks' frustrations began before he coached his first All Blacks test.