Magnificent madness

The weekend just gone saw the final three fixtures in the 2015 Six Nations Championship. I have made reference previously to this northern hemisphere rugby tournament, and I feel sure that you already know that England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, France and Italy compete annually for this keenly contested trophy.

The format of the tournament is a straight league with no bonus points – with each nation playing every other in a single fixture, alternating home and away from one year to the next. The winner is the team with the most points at the end of the five rounds. Should there be a tie in this regard the outcome is decided on points difference (scores for/scores against).

The start of this year’s final round found three teams – England, Ireland and Wales – on the same number of points. By chance each of these teams was to play a different opponent – Wales/Italy, Ireland/Scotland and England/France – and in each match the side in contention was the favourite to win. Points difference was clearly likely to determine the eventual winner.

By further and the most pure of chances the matches were to be played one after the other (in Rome, Edinburgh and at Twickenham respectively) in the order of the points difference at the start of the matches. Thus for Wales – up first – to be able to challenge for the trophy they would needs outscore Italy by at least 26 points. At half time Wales were trailing by a single point at 13-14 but – clearly mindful of what was required – they then proceeded to run riot, the final score being a massive 61-20 to the Welsh.

Ireland – up next against Scotland – were thus required to win by at least 21 points to set England a challenge. They duly hammered the hapless Scots by 40 points to 10, setting England the target of beating the French – by far the most dangerous of the day’s underdogs – by an unlikely 26 points.

As the sun set over Twickenham and in front of a capacity crowd of more than 80,000 the English came out of the blocks like a train. Within the first four minutes they were a try to the good. Unfortunately, by the ten minute mark they were two tries to one down! The tone was thus set for the remainder of the match. In what is normally a relatively tight fixture the sides went at each other as though possessed. No sooner had one scored than the other would strike back.

England, eventually and inexorably, drew slowly ahead of their old rivals and as the match entered its last breathless minute they were within six points of the target. The final attack – a rolling maul in which practically the whole squad took part – saw the English poised above the French line only for the referee to blow-up for a penalty to the visitors. Even at this late stage the French, instead of kicking the ball out of the park, tried to run it out from behind their own lines. Older and wiser counsel finally prevailed.

The final whistle left both sides exhausted, those of us watching emotionally drained and with fingernails gnawed down to the quick, and England the eventual winners of a tremendous match by a scarcely believable 55 points to 35!

Still not enough – though – to win the title…

Congratulations to the Irish on their splendid campaign. Hearty felicitations also to all those involved for taking part in one of the most extraordinary days of rugby that has ever been seen. Three matches – twenty seven tries – two hundred and twenty one points on the day!

Magnificent! Thrilling! Glorious!