D-Day in the Six Nations title race and it’s funny what it can do to folk when they require favours from foes.
“You now need Scotland to do you a solid in Paris,” said the BBC’s Sonja McLaughlan to Maro Itoje after he captained England to that mullering of Wales. “How do you spend the rest of the evening watching that unfold,” she asked.
“Maybe singing The Bonnie, Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomond,” he replied.
We, of course, would have been doing precisely the same if we’d still been in it, we’d probably have been tossing cabers all over the place too, but come the conclusion of the carnage in Cardiff, the Six Nations crown was packing its bags after two contented years in Ireland, not yet sure if it was England- or France-bound.
You have a choice at a point like this. Take the high road and wish both well, in a que sera, sera kind of way, or take the low and say ‘bad cess’ to the usurpers.
But, at the start of the day, the odds of Ireland making it a three-in-a-row were decidedly slim. Bernard Jackman told us that Simon Easterby, in an effort to convince his players that nothing was impossible, had played them a clip from Dumb and Dumber earlier in the week.
“The main actor tries to ask a girl on a date, he says ‘is there any chance?’ She says ‘it’s a million to one’, he says ‘brilliant, I have a chance!”
“I think it’s more than a million to one, if I’m honest,” Jamie Heaslip sighed, thereby dousing the flames of Simon and Bernard’s romantic hopefulness. “It’s all in God’s hands now,” said Jacqui Hurley, “what I really mean, it’s in France’s hands”, she added, lest we reckoned the heavens would decide this one. Which, of course, they would.
Jamie, meantime, was, he said, trying to “wrap my head around” what he reckoned was the unwarranted gloom that followed the defeat by France.
“Is it because it was our biggest loss since 2003 in the Six Nations, that in 28 minutes they put 30 points on us unanswered, or the manner in which they negated all our strengths and blew us off the field?” Donal Lenihan hadn’t the heart to say ‘you’ve just answered the bloody question’, but his face kind of hinted at that notion.
Anyway, our game against Italy? Look, we won. Granted, just. And, no, the performance won’t feature in Reeling In The Years any time soon. And yes, the Virgin Media panel was underwhelmed. And Shane Horgan decided that “Ireland have got progressively worse in this Six Nations”. But other than that, the mood was chipper.
Could Wales do us a favour and upend the Chariots? “I have a sneaky feeling that they might just deliver,” said Shane.
Sam Warburton was no less upbeat over on the Beeb, incidentally, talking about “the renewed optimism” in Welsh rugby, half-convinced that the side could avert a 17th defeat in a row and banjax England’s title hopes.
Two minutes and 23 seconds on the clock and England scored the first of their 10 tries. Ten! “It’s like men against boys now, isn’t it? That’s a hammering,” said a severely dejected Jonathan Davies when the avalanche finally concluded, by which time sweet chariots were polluting the Cardiff air. “That’s a tragic day for Welsh rugby,” said Matt Williams, Shane left with a sneaky feeling that he wasn’t wrong.
It’s a tough old game. Back on the BBC, Gabby Logan marvelled at the pain rugby players put themselves through. “But I loved the contact,” said Sam. “It’s probably the only thing I really miss about the game. When I retired there was a guy walking his dog in the park, walking towards me. I was like, ‘I’d love him to run at me now’.”
Gabby: “The dog or the man?”
Sam: “Both.”
They’re a different breed, this lot, if you’re walking your Chihuahua through the park any time soon, and you see Peter O’Mahony coming towards you, scarper.
On to Paris. A bagpiper on the roof of the Stade de France kick-started Flower of Scotland, like you do, the Scots donning a kit akin to something Coventry City would have worn in the early eighties.
But despite their bonnie, bonnie resistance, the French prevailed. Our crown is, then, Paris-bound. No favours from our Celtic cousins, but no complaints. Chapeaux, France, you’re a mightily good watch.
