The Rise and Rise of the House of Lancaster

So have the blazers got it right at last ? In essence, they were on to a hiding to nothing. England’s woeful WC performances were all but forgotten after the 6 Nations Championship. There was such palpable relief in the Twickers crowd that a resurgent Welsh team didn’t beat them senseless that they hardly objected to the Strettle try being turned down. After a lacklustre Irish team was turned over on the last weekend, the ink was as good as dry on Stuart Lancaster’s contract. To look beyond the caretaker coach would have been seen as illogical (nothing new there) and unpatriotic (ouch).

Players such as Lee Dickson waded in with their support - but then again, he would, wouldn't he ? The previous regime didn't have our Lee anywhere near the top of the scrum half pecking order.

Like several others, I remain unconvinced.

Lancaster is addicted to sports psycho-babble on a scale not seen at Twickenham since the dying days of the Andy Robinson regime. People will indulge you when they think you know what you mean, even if they don’t. But if your team starts playing like they don’t know what you mean…do you know what I mean ? My suspicion is that the “new dawn” for English rugby is still some distance away. Doubts remain over the side’s ability to create. When Charlie Hodgson’s charge downs, and penalty tries gained against an Irish scrum locked into reverse gear, are the only points gathered beyond Farrell’s trusty right boot, then those doubts will remain. Lancaster’s side will go to South Africa determined to “lay bodies on the line”, and to be “difficult to beat”. Against a Springbok side that is busy rebuilding after several years under a coach who seemed to distrust the turf within a stone’s throw of either touchline, I can’t help but feel that attrition will be the order of the day. As Captain Blackadder once noted, there will be a lot of casualties in a desperate attempt to move the HQ drinks trolley 50 yards closer to Berlin.

Meanwhile, north of the border, Robinson keeps his job. No new dawn there for our Scottish friends. Or for the players, who profess to believe in the old Bath flanker’s methods, but who looked entirely unconvinced in the final match against Castrogiavanni and his assorted legions. Cue more psycho-babble, if only to cover the plain fact that the Scottish are too mean/broke to pay Andy off…

Dan's the Man

The Dragons flanker Dan Lydiate turned in another man of the match performance as Wales closed out St Andre's stilted French side at the Millenium. The French coach had succeeded in bringing some rain down on Gatland's parade, but his controversial insistence on leaving the roof off was ultimately just another expression of his limited thinking at work here.
 In the second half, with the French forwards at last gaining a foothold in Welsh territory, Beauxis chose to go for a drop goal. He scuffed it wide - his dreadful game in a microcosm - and we knew the game was won. The final few minutes, with only a converted try between the sides, should have been hushed, with fingernails gnawed to a bloodied pulp. Instead, such was the superiority of the Welsh side, each man confident in possession, and sure of their technique, that a rendition of ”Hymns and Arias” grew and grew, the sound tumbling down from the terraces high up then rolling out over the grass. The players sucked it in, and we all realised that St Andre had done the whole of Cardiff a favour, because with the roof off the sound was able to spill out onto St Mary's Street, away across the Taff, out over Bute Park, and they could all stop worrying. The old Max Boyce classic only gets a proper airing when the boys in red are winning. When the final whistle blew, the stadium camera picked out Gerald Davies as he wiped away a tear. Perhaps for his old mate The Swerve. How he'd have loved that game. And the new Welsh legends can reflect on the fact that colleagues like Chopper Lydiate wouldn't have been out of place in that team of the 1970's.
And that, for any Welsh rugby fan, is what this Grand Slam is all about. Now this team can stop looking back over its shoulder, and head towards its own future.

Leg of Lamb on the menu after starters in Dublin and London.

England strettle for second best…(sorry...)

Whisper it, think it, but don’t say it out loud. It rhymes with “leg of lamb”, and Wales could be grabbing it at Cardiff on the 17th of this month. The players and coaching staff refuse to mention the magic words, but things are getting feverish on St Mary’s St. If it all comes together, it’s going to be one heck of a party. And after the gut wrenching disappointment of the WC semi final, few rugby fans would be churlish enough to say that this Welsh side don’t deserve it. The display at Twickenham was, by common consent, pretty ordinary, apart from that explosive (but point free) opening, the awesome discipline displayed when they went down to 14 men, and the boyish fearlessness of Scotty Williams’ try.

England played pretty well, particularly in defence. They exchanged some huge hits with the Welsh pack, and the midfield trio of Farrell, Tuilagi and Barrit refused to allow the Welsh three quarters to get up a head of steam. There were also glimpses of the English attacking threat, so sadly lacking against Scotland and Italy. Tuilagi made all the difference here.

Having said that, the overwhelming feeling at Twickers was one of relief – that the home side had put up a fight, that they were competitive. As a Welsh fan who lived through the dark days of the early 90’s, I can but sympathise…