Afternoon all and welcome to the beginning of what could be a very memorable 48 hours.

When reflecting on some of history’s most significant moments, people often ask where you were when you heard the news for the first time. In a similar fashion, some day people will proudly proclaim to have been present at the beginning of this liveblog – when I was nicely rested, washed and (almost) clean-shaven; filled with hopeful expectation; not all grumpy and bitter.

Of course, that could all change over the next two days. Indeed this liveblog might be the only thing that prevents me from curling up in a corner and rocking gently back and forth, whispering to myself.

So, whether you stay with us for a little or a lot of the next few days, thanks for stopping by. I’ll make sure it’s worth your while, don’t worry.

Of course, there is a very good chance that you have clicked into this liveblog by accident and have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about. If that’s the case, here’s the 411.

At 5pm tomorrow afternoon in Cardiff’s Millennium Stadium, Leinster take on the Northampton Saints in the final of the 2011 Heineken Cup.

Sick of listening to me moan about how I missed out on Leinster’s last victory in Edinburgh in 2009, my benevolent editor, Mr. Adrian Russell, decided to send me to the Welsh capital for this weekend’s festivities.

Excellent news, right?

Well, yes. I’m going to the match. But, due to the fact that I didn’t pass to Adrian enough when we were playing indoor football the other night, I have to do things the hard way.

Rather than flying straight into Cardiff or something equally straightforward, I’m going the long way around. In about half an hour, I’ll be hitting the road and heading to Dublin’s Busaras where I’ll get on a bus and head to Rosslare.

All going according to plan, I should hit Cardiff at about 4am tomorrow morning which leaves me with roughly 13 hours to kill before the game kicks-off.

Hmmmm ….

Then (provided I’m still alive and fully functioning), I’ll actually start to do my “job” i.e. reporting on the match. I’ll have a couple of hours to kill and then I’ll be back on the bus home to Dublin. ETA: Sunday lunchtime.

Not sounding quite as enjoyable now, is it?

Of course, there’s really no point in me enduring this hardship if you, dear readers, can’t take pleasure in whatever misery should befall me. Therefore, courtesy of the wonderful medium of liveblog and one of those nifty little mobile internet dongles (more on that in a minute), you’ll be able to follow me every step of the way. Starting … now.

Did I mention that I have absolutely no money as well? €80 of my oh-so-generous €100 budget went on the ticket for my bus/ferry combo, which leaves me with about €20 for the next two days. Fortunately, I’ve got my match ticket sorted already (thank you ERC) but still, it won’t be long before I end up begging, borrowing and stealing just to survive.

I’m sure you already know this, but Drico is starting tomorrow. I repeat, Leinster centre Brian O’Driscoll is fit to play in tomorrow’s Heineken Cup Final.

All comparisons to Ronaldo (c. World Cup 1998), Henry Shefflin (c. All-Ireland SHC Final 2010) etc. have been put firmly to the back of my mind, don’t worry.

Those teams in full:

Leinster: I Nacewa; S Horgan, B O’Driscoll, G D’Arcy, L Fitzgerald; J Sexton, E Reddan; C Healy, R Strauss, M Ross, L Cullen (C), N Hines, K McLaughlin, S O’Brien, J Heaslip. Replacements: J Harris-Wright, H Van Der Merwe, S Wright, D Toner, S Jennings, I Boss, I Madigan, F McFadden.

Northampton Saints: B Foden; C Ashton, J Clarke, J Downey, P Diggin; S Myler, L Dickson; S Tonga’uiha, D Hartley (C), B Mujati, C Lawes, C Day, C Clark, P Dowson, R Wilson. Replacements: B Sharman, A Waller, T Mercey, M Sorenson, M Easter, S Commins, S Geraghty, J Ansbro.

Those of you who are heading over to Cardiff, how are you getting there? Is anybody on the same bus/ferry combo as me? E-mail us at sport@thescore.ie and let us know.

Aidan Cooney has a bit of distance to travel – well, a bit further than me at any rate. He sent us this e-mail:

As a Leinster fan my journey starts from my office in Southill Limerick!

Then out from Shannon to London. Beers in Richmond with Munster mates who are driving me to Cardiff and back again to London then Limerick and Monday morning to my Munster colleagues in Southill where I am a social worker to gloat or hide!

That’s the kind of dedication we like to see. Although Aidan is flying (presumably) from Shannon to London, so I reckon I stay ahead in the hardship rankings for the moment.

Ok, I think I’m just about ready to go. Gotta travel light, so most of my (rather small) backpack will be full of electronics and other necessities.

This is what’s going in anyway. I figured a homemade roll and a packet of crisps might help stretch the budget a bit.

This travel essential will also be coming with me. All difficult decisions will be referred to the die.

To add to the authenticity of the liveblog experience, I’ll be uploading snippets of audio to TheScore.ie‘s Audioboo page every so often. You should be able to accurately track my mental state by listening to the tone of my voice.

Click here to listen to the first one.

Thankfully, that’s the opening hurdle safely navigated without too much difficulty. Such was my haste to get to Busaras that I was early enough to get on the 2.30 bus, a full hour before the bus I was actually booked on to. That’ll mean more time to kill in Rosslare before the ferry, but that’s better than being stuck in Busaras … I think.

Anyway, you’ll be glad to hear that I’m not the only Leinster fan dedicated / foolish enough to take this travel option. The bus is fairly full and there’s plenty of blue on display.

Our driver seems to be up for a bit of craic as well, though I’m not sure of the wisdom of telling sixty or seventy Cardiff-bound fans that they’re on the wrong bus as you pull out of the station. He was joking, of course. I hope …

I’ve already started to make a few friends – the kind that will stand me in good stead come 4am in the morning. The guy behind me tells me that we’re being dropped off at a motorway service station in Cardiff tomorrow morning – a car park, if you will. Fear not, he knows where the nearest open cafe will be, so we’re laughing, right? Right?

Oh, by the way, Neil has encouraged me to tell you a little anecdote from a table quiz which we were at last night. In one of the more unusual rounds, the answer was revealed by a series of clues which got progressively easier. The earlier you guessed the correct answer, the more points you got.

Now, we’d like to think of ourselves as moderately intelligent individuals, and we managed to work out fairly quickly that the answer was an Irish-based rugby club.

Given the weekend that’s in it, the answer was obviously Leinster. I am, however, slightly too ashamed to tell you how long it took us to come to that realisation.

As a footnote, we won – so who cares?

Before I put the laptop away for a while and go back to talking to my new best friends (feeling a little bit antisocial now to tell you the truth), here’s a brilliant roadtrip memory which Brioscaí has left in the comments below.

Go on, send us some of your own memories.

Back in the good old days (ie when Munster were in the final) my family and our neighbours drove from Cork to Rosslare on Fri (after a days work!) and the ferry, of which my only memory is trying to sleep in a corridor with about 200 other people. Every time I woke there was a different person beside me. Then drove from Holyhead to Cardiff (that’s the entire length of Wales) and parked up for the night. Did the same thing in reverse after the heartbreaking loss to Leicester. Did I mention that there were 9 of us in a car intended for 7 at most? The teenagers alternated sitting in a child seat strapped to the floor (safety first!). Still it was worth it.

I’m bored already – are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?

I seem to have chosen the not-quite-newsworthy bus judging by the rather peaceful atmosphere that has set in since my last update. Isn’t this normally the part of trips to away games where people are sharing cans around and having a bit of a sing-song? None of that here anyway.

I’ve been thinking about this for the last few minutes (I have a lot of time to think at the moment) and I’ve come up with a number of theories. Firstly, it might be too early in the day for such boisterous behaviour. Secondly, the game doesn’t kick off for another 24 hours, so maybe the sensible heads in my company are worried about peaking too soon. Or is it just a rugby thing? After all, rugby fans are far more civilised than soccer-following neanderthals.

Either way, I’d kill for a lukewarm can of Bav at the moment …

Just looked at my watch and realised that it’s now less than 24 hours to kick-off. This is a truly signficant milestone.

One of the things which I’ve been doing to keep myself amused is engaging in a little bit of casual eavesdropping. Of course, this is a little bit tricky when most of the people within earshot are keeping their thoughts to themselves.

The lads in front of me are unwittingly providing me with some good material though. First, they ruined the ending of the cinematic masterpiece that is The Last Samurai (he dies apparently). Then, they launched into an anti-social media invective before discussing how much they liked “the Facebook movie.”

Class.

That took a tiny bit longer than I imagined, but we’ve finally made it to Rosslare Port. If bars and restaurants are your thing, you’re in the wrong place.

Fortunately, I have the sandwich and packet of crisps in the bag, so that’ll have to do me. Not a penny of the €20 spent either, I’ll have you know.

I’ll stick up a few more updates when I’ve more to report – in the meantime, here’s a photo and an audioboo from Rosslare.

Nice of them to get into the spirit of things, I have to say.

Ok, maybe Rosslare Port’s not as grim as I initially made it out to be, but I certainly wouldn’t fancy being here for too much longer.

Fortunately, I don’t really have to worry about that as it’s ferry time. Hopefully a chance to do some further meeting and mingling with the hardened Leinster fans who have also taken this godforsaken route to Cardiff.

Wi-Fi permitting, we could be entering a little bit of a liveblog blackspot during my time at sea. If you don’t hear from me for the next few hours, fear not – I’ll be diligently taking notes of everything that happens so that I can recount the night’s events in painstaking detail once I get back into coverage.

Laters.

It is a long time since I’ve been on a ferry, so much so that I’m not even sure what to expect from the whole experience.

In an ideal world, it will be full of semi-inebriated Leinster fans watching highlights of the Edinburgh final on a big screen and singing songs. Failing that, there will be somewhere where a grab a few hours’ sleep without fear of someone falling over me.

At this stage, I feel it’s important not to set the bar too high.

On first impressions, this whole set-up isn’t actually that bad. There are plenty of bars, comfortable sitting areas, places to get food – that kind of thing.

From a personal perspective, it’s not exactly ideal seeing as the only thing to do is sit about with your mates and get very messy with the aid of alcohol. Seeing as I’m a) currently mateless and b) technically working, I’m not quite sure what my options are.

Time for some soul-searching, methinks. Failing that, an episode or two of The Wire.

One thing I do need to effectively conduct a liveblog is internet access. Irish Ferries haven’t quite moved into the era of free wi-fi for all, so I ask the nice lady at reception what a guy’s gotta do to get hooked up around here. €8 per hour is her rather brusque response.

I try explaining that I need it for work and that I’ve only got €20ish to get me through until Sunday morning. She fails to understand how I’ve managed to get myself into this predicament.

It seems I’ve managed to sit beside the woman with the loudest mobile phone ringtone in the history of mankind. Fortunately for me, we’ll be at sea soon. Equally fortunate is the fact that I’m not obliged to stay in the same seat for the next three hours

Success! I’ve found a television. Just in time for the end of the Amlin Final, right?

Wrong. Instead, a game which appears to be Accrington Stanley versus Stevenage Borough is on instead. On a boat full of rugby fans. Nobody bats an eyelid.

I’ve just set myself two minor goals which I am determined to accomplish between now and the time when I get off the ferry. Firstly, I’m going to conduct an in-depth investigation of how much it would cost to get some grub, though I fear it would relieve me of most of my budget.

Secondly, I’m going to hang out around the amps and mic stands that are set up in one of the other bars in the hope that somebody might entertain me. I might even belt out a tune or two myself. FYI, I do a cracking rendition of Wet Wet Wet’s Love is All Around.

Greetings from somewhere in the middle of the Irish Sea. As you might have guessed, very little has happened in the last couple of hours. In fact, just for interest’s sake, I’ve come back to the exact same seat I was in earlier and I’m now playing a little game of spot the difference to see what has changed in my absence.

The answer – nothing, apart from the fact that the ratio of drinkers to sleepers has shifted slightly in favour of the latter and that Accrington Stanley versus Stevenage Borough mercifully appears to be over.

In the interests of transparency, I feel I should report that I have made a purchase. The final €20 has been eaten into.

I know what you’re thinking – what the hell is this idiot doing spending money on the ferry if he’s trying to stick to a tight budget? Everything there is going to be a total rip-off.

And yes, you’d be right. But I also realised that this may be my last legitimate opportunity to have a meal until cafes and restaurants begin to open in the morning. So I went for it. I bit the bullet and bought myself a chicken curry.

In doing so, I was the beneficiary of a sizable piece of good luck as the cashier decided to give me a rather hefty discount for some unknown reason (my charm and good looks / she’s an avid reader of my liveblog / pity).

€7.95 spent, only €12.05 remaining.

You may or may not be interested to hear that I also went to check out the evening’s entertainment. They nodded politely at my request (read: heckle) that they play some Springsteen and then continued on with their catalogue of dross regardless.

I left shortly after that.

I see ‘Quins beat Stade Francais 19-18 in the Amlin Final. Now kind of wishing that I’d come over to Cardiff a day earlier.

Here’s another audioboo update for your amusement. Enjoy.

The realisation of exactly what I’ve let myself in for has just properly dawned on me for the very first time. There’s nothing like being woken up at 3.30am in a roadside service station and being told to disembark to hammer home the reality.

I use the term “woken up” lightly as well. You have to be asleep to be woken up; I was merely dozing, if you can even call it that.

So now what? Fortunately, I’m not the only one in this predicament and the general consensus seems to be to head to the lobby of the nearby Hotel Ibis and formulate a plan of attack.

Ugh.

Want to hear just how despondent I am? That’s what Audioboo is for.

There’s good news and there’s bad news. The good news is that the guy at reception in the Ibis doesn’t mind us hanging out for a little while. He was even good enough to turn off the trance music that he was enjoying.

The bad news is that there’s nothing to do and nowhere to go for the next few hours. The more diligent members of our makeshift travelling party inform me that the buses into Cardiff city centre start in about an hour’s time, but I’m quietly confident that there won’t be too much to do at 6am in Cardiff either.

We inevitably lose a few soldiers who succumb to tiredness and snap up the few hotel rooms still available in the vicinity. A taxi is called and a handful head off to Newport (which is in the opposite direction to Cardiff) in search of a night’s sleep.

Me? I just curl up on the floor with a strategically-placed backpack for a pillow and try desperately to get any sort of rest.

It seems that the sleep plan worked. In the meantime, our group has dwindled from 20 to a mere five – where did everyone else go and how did I not hear them leave? If I can fall back asleep for a few more minutes before I get kicked out (which I inevitably will be), I’ll be delighted.

We’ve definitely outstayed our welcome here. The guy at reception – who, to his credit, has been an absolute gentleman – gives us a shout to say that some paying guests will be coming down for their breakfast soon so we can’t really stay sprawled on the floor. No arguments from anybody here, we’ve gotten away with more than we would have thought possible a few hours ago. Along with my four remaining bleary-eyed travel companions, I decide to head off into town in search of some food and atmosphere.

Greetings to those of you who are just waking up on this fine Saturday morning. I am pleased to report that the sun is shining in Cardiff and that the travelling Leinster party are in fine fettle and form. A few sleepy heads perhaps, but that much is to be expected.

My breakfast fry set me back £4 but it was worth every penny and has set me up for the day. Fuelled and re-energised, I’ve split from my four amigos and gone to try find a quiet corner with a plug socket in order to get a jump on the day’s work.

Said “quiet corner” happens to be in the local Wetherspoon’s where I inevitably end up sitting beside another tranche of the fans who travelled over with me on the bus yesterday. I grab a coffee, they grab the first of the day’s pints.

Let the games begin.

For the first time since I started out on my little adventure 21 hours ago, it feels like Heineken Cup Final day.

Those who arrived in Cardiff yesterday have roused themselves from their slumber, while those who chose the early-morning trains, planes and automobiles have started to join us.

The pints are (slowly) starting to flow and, with that, so are the stories.

Stories of Edinburgh in 2009, of those who were there and of those who wish they were. Hats, flags and scarves of every colour, shape and size, each item telling its own unique story. Forget about tiredness, this is what we are here for.

The newest recruit to the party, Bob, tells me that he’s backed Jonny Sexton to be first try-scorer at 25/1. That should give you some sort of indication of the confidence levels this morning.

The tweets and texts of solidarity and support have started to trickle in, some doubting if I’ll be able to keep my eyes open come kick off. Considering my notable lack of sleep, it’ll take a lot of caffeine to get me that far. If the standard of writing deteriorates over the coming hours, I apologise in advance.

I’ve spent the last half-hour or so trying to quickly articulate what the buzz is like in Cardiff this morning. The fruits of my labour can be read here.

Amid all of the laughter and pooh-poohing, there always remained a hardcore element of devout worshippers who maintained that 21 May 2011 would be a date of some significance.

For those Leinster rugby fans who have made the pilgrimage to Cardiff’s Millennium Stadium, the hope is that today will not signify the end of days which Harold Camping and his followers have predicted but the dawn of a bright new era.

Alright, my work here is done for the moment. The sun is shining on the streets of Cardiff, and the pub I’m in is absolutely buzzing with fans from both sets of teams.

I’m absolutely knackered, but at this very moment, there’s nowhere else in the world that I’d rather be. The next seven or eight hours are what this 48-hour round-trip is all about. This is it.

The word “nervous” has started to creep into the Leinster fans’ conversations over the past hour or so, but that much is to be expected really. This isn’t your standard Saturday afternoon.

I’m off out to meet some more of the travelling support for a couple of hours before I head to the Millennium Stadium. I’ll report back in due course.

Before I go, here’s another shout-out for your stories and photos. Wherever you are or wherever you’re headed, get in touch to let us know what you’re up to.

There are some cracking stories doing the rounds in Cardiff already, one in particular about a pair of fans who arrived out in Dublin Airport this morning only to realise that they’d left their match tickets sitting at home on the bed.

Ouch.

It’s been a while since I checked in so I just wanted to reassure any concerned parties that I am still alive.

Kick-off is in T-2 hours and the city is absolutely buzzing. With little else to do but roam the streets in search of entertaining stories, I simply headed from bar to bar to see what was going on. The good weather has certainly helped as the streets of Cardiff are lined with fans from both sides, sitting and drinking peacefully. There’s great engagement between both sets of supporters and, as expected, not even the merest hint of trouble.

I’ll stick up a few of the photos which I took on my little mini-adventure, just so you can get a feel for what the atmosphere is like.

Good to see that I’m not the only Wally in town.

There was plenty of blue on display in  the Champions Village.

My first glimpse of the Millennium Stadium

Highlight of the afternoon so far? That would undoubtedly have to be the “banana” which came out of nowhere to authoritatively claim a huge up-and-under on Mary’s Street this afternoon. I’ve no idea where the ball came from, let alone the banana, so I was suitably impressed.

The Kaiser has been in touch once again, this time looking for photos of fans in unusual colours or costumes.

Well, aside from the Wallys below, this is best I can do at the moment. These five gentleman came over on the ferry yesterday and brought their Leinster-supporting lady friend with them. Before you ask, I’m not sure if she has a name.

Photo ©INPHO/Colm O’Neill

It’s now almost 26 hours since I left home and I’m proud to announce that I’m now in the Millennium Stadium – well, in the media working area deep in the bowels of the Millennium Stadium to be accurate.

I’m keeping an eye out for people of note whose views and opinions I might be able to pilfer, but no joy so far.

The plan now is to finish writing this update; go get some lunch / dinner (which better be good because I’m starting to get pretty hungry again); and then head out pitchside to capture the atmosphere as the crowd begins to build.

There have been plenty of tickets still available today, both on the street and through official outlets, so it’s unlikely that we’ll have a complete sell-out. It’ll be almost full though, but I reckon the Leinster fans might outnumber their English counterparts by about two to one. Just a hunch based on the numbers I’ve seen on the streets today.

To keep the match action separate, we’ll be moving over here for the next few hours. Do join us.

Ok, now that the match proper is all done, this is the only liveblog for the rest of the journey. I’m not making any promises as to how frequently it will be updated, but I’ll check in and out when I can to keep you posted on the post-match analysis, reaction and celebrations.

I’ve just had a chance to stop by the press conference where Joe Schmidt, Jonny Sexton and Leo Cullen gave their reaction to this evening’s remarkable events. We’ll have full articles on site tomorrow, but here’s a taster of what they had to say.

We talked about belief before the game. We talked about believing in ourselves and in each other. So, at half-time, I reiterated that. However, I knew that we’d have to score first after half time and I think that was pivotal. Once that happened, I think the momentum shifted. The players sensed the momentum shift and certainly the crowd did. — Joe Schmidt

If Northampton got the next score, the game was over. We just came out of the blocks and regained the ball straight away and luckily we got over the line. It really changed the momentum of the game straight away. — Jonny Sexton

At half-time, we didn’t really have much option but to go out and play the game and to play the way we know we’re capable of playing. Certainly when you’re sixteen points down, the shackles are off. It makes it almost easier because there’s nothing to defend. — Leo Cullen

Alright, it’s just about time for me to say goodbye to the Millennium Stadium. My bus is due to leave that roadside service station at about 11pm – the only problem is that I’ve absolutely no idea of how I’m going to get back.

All in all, I reckon that leaves me with about an hour to go and soak up the celebrations. If you don’t hear from me for a while, don’t presume that I’m dead but rather that I’m having a thoroughly enjoyable time, one worthy of the game which we’ve just seen.

Hopefully, I’ll be back in touch in the early hours of the morning. Enjoy the celebrations wherever you are.

Baby, we made it.

Apologies for the loss of radio communication over the last 12 hours. I’m almost ashamed to say it but I had a little bit of sleep to catch up with. If you’ve been reading this liveblog since I left home on Friday morning (45+ hours ago), you probably need a little bit of rest too.

The journey home was predictably enjoyable. Because I was working so late in the Millennium Stadium last night, I didn’t have much of chance to share in the euphoria with non-press types, so by the time I reconvened with my fellow travellers at the roadside service station, I was absolutely bursting with happiness.

They might have been conducting a joyous post-mortem in the hours before I arrived, but I was determined to do it all again. What went so wrong in the first half? What went so right in the second half? How good was Sexton? What was the real turning point of the game?

So many questions, so enjoyable to discuss and reflect upon.

There were a lot of people taking the Jonny Sexton line on sporting miracles. The younger members of the travelling party were assured that even if they continued to go to rugby matches for the next 50 years, they might never see anything as remarkable again.

The funny thing is that such a statement isn’t even an exaggeration.

By the time we got to Pembroke at about 2am, the Irish Ferries crew had obviously been briefed on what to expect. For those who had watched far too much of the game through their fingers, it was replayed on the big screens in the bars.

It is with great regret that I must report that I didn’t stay up to watch the game again. Instead, for the second time in as many days, I curled up underneath a table (all of the comfortable “beds” were already taken) and plonked my head on my makeshift backpack-pillow once again.

I’m glad I did. Let’s just say that strong winds do not make for calm sea-crossings and, had I not been asleep, there is a very good chance that I would have been joining the sea-sick symphony which could be heard loud and proud.

I managed to get three(ish) hours of sleep before we arrived back in Rosslare at about 7ish. And then I slept on the bus back to Dublin again. Even if I had wanted to stay awake and discuss the game in minute detail with my fellow voyagers, I couldn’t have.

And now, I’m home. By my watch, it’s 46 hours and 10 minutes since I started this liveblog. As I said at 4.30am on Saturday morning, I never really understood what I was getting myself into when I agreed to do all of this. It wasn’t always pretty, it certainly wasn’t stress-free, but it was worth it without a doubt.

Here’s my final audioboo, recorded a couple of minutes ago from the comfort of home.

For those of you who are wondering if I managed to stay within my budgeted figure of €100, the simple answer is that I’m not sure. My record-keeping became somewhat less meticulous as the two days progressed, but honestly, I don’t think I did. I’m happy to put a final total of about €120 on it which I’m more than happy with. Hopefully nobody feels cheated by the fact that I felt the need to have a few additional cups of coffee to keep me going.

Before I go have a badly-needed shower and sleep, I’d just like to say a massive thank you to everyone who helped make the last few days a success … it was a success, right?

The tweets, e-mails and texts never stopped coming in. I even got one which simply said “moral support” at 4.25am on Saturday morning. Class.

These two tweets, which I picked up when I arrived back in Ireland this morning, are among my favourites.

Lessons learned this weekend:

• Never say never.
• Always – ALWAYS – bring an ethernet cable with you when working at a live game.

Obviously, there were details and stories (some important, some less so) that had to be omitted due to the fact that it was impossible for me to update the liveblog with every single incident of note.

Some day, the full story of the last 48 hours will be told. It’s 50% action-adventure, 50% tragi-comedy, and 100% unforgettable.

If I ever get around to writing volume one of my memoirs, it will be a chapter worth reading.

And, on that intriguing note, I bid you farewell. Thanks for reading.