Three points and we'd all be buying each other pints and singing songs. Three points seperated me from a happy afternoon. Three points gave me reason to flip off a french bistro. Three flippin' points. Had the match gone the otherway, I'd be happy and full of cheer. I would have left the pub a bit lighter on my feet, and I would have seen that the sun was coming through the clouds instead of thinking about how the clouds were choking out the sun. One drop kick more and I would be going to bed tonight content, knowing that whatever layed ahead this week, Ireland won. However, Ireland didn't win, and they were seperated from victory by those same three points. They would have walked away pleased that they had narrowly escaped defeat. They would make jokes about the drop kick that bounced off of the post and claimed that it was the "Luck of the Irish," indeed. It's amazing how such a small sum can have such dramatic impact. We nearly won today, but, we actually lost.