REACTION: Well, that should put an emphatic end to words like chokers, also-rans and nearly men

“KISS-ARSE TACKLING” bellowed a senior citizen in close proximity to yours truly in the build-up to Leicester’s first-half try. The old man, with indignant, wide eyes, spent the half-time break re-arranging his dentures.

He appeared to be a tad angry, but we didn’t hear a peep out of him until, with one minute to go, he was advising Chris Whitaker – who was doing his sideways- running-slug impression – to “stop jigging around and kick the ***king ball”.

Not sure if Chris heard that, but it certainly warranted another sustained chew on his falsers. The old fella I mean, not Whitaker.

There was something unnerving about this whole day. Murrayfield is not a happy hunting ground for Irish teams; there was the fear Leinster had played their final when they beat Munster; and because they were playing Leicester, which frankly just looks and sounds too much like Leinster.

On Friday night, when I set my goggle-box to record, my ntl TV menu informed me that Leinster weren’t even playing. “4.30 Sky Sports 2 – Heineken Cup Final as Leicester take on Leicester”. Ah here, give us a chance.

What added to the shredding nerves of all of us watching was that with 30 minutes gone Leinster had well over half the possession, but just couldn’t get over the line.

The human juggernaut Rocky Elsom had to be cut out of his Leinster Rugby-bedecked Opel last week after another vehicle ploughed into him. Wonder did it have a Limerick reg?

Despite Rocky destroying all in his path, the remarkable confidence and composure of baby-face Sexton and the typically clever lines of running by D’Arcy and co, the Tigers clung on to Les Bleus in a manner befitting their nickname.

Massive moments in defence from Luke Fitzgerald on Tuilagi, Shane Horgan on Croft and Shane Jennings on almost every Leicester player were confirmation that, this time, Leinster would die trying.

But after Stan Wright’s yellow card for his vital, if mis-timed, hit on Sam Vesty, the door opened for Leicester and they took full advantage with the first try.

History tells us that the Tigers grind out victories they don’t deserve, and when they got that try against the run of play, the “Oh no not again” demons started their vocal warm-ups.

With both sets of supporters giving it togs for their team, it must have been impossible for the players to distinguish who the hell they were shouting for.

A Leinster fan of the female persuasion nearby observed that Leicester’s shorts were very short. Assuming she was talking about the Leicester players’ shorts, it was the type of in-depth scrutiny the lads on the pitch could hardly have expected and an aspect of the game that gets scant, if any, coverage from your average TV panel. Sky Sports take note.

Then came another outrageous burst up the touch-line from Elsom, which included taking Croft on the outside, dummying Tuilagi and handing off Shuster before setting up a ruck in the lead-up to Leinster’s try.

Of course the hands of BOD played a vital part in that pivotal score when he stepped inside and checked three Tigers defenders for the ball to reach Heaslip who was frog-marched over the line by the Russian Olympic wrestler Cian Healy.

Something about this “heart-in-the-mouth” occasion seemed to unleash all the years of frustration and irritation of recent near misses. It felt different to the churning anxiety you sometimes have when watching Ireland play. The reputation of there being no pride in the Leinster jersey, no unity in the support and the relentless comparisons with the apparently gloating Red Army added to the unique spice of this special day.

While it might be tempting to get carried away with all this success, it’s important to acknowledge and appreciate the good times while we have them. And what a wonderful sight it was to see the hugely loyal and long-serving Shane Horgan finally getting his mits on the big, shiny one. His lights must have gone out for a minute after being hit by that bus disguised as Tuilagi, but amazingly he got up and took it on his ample chin.

If Ireland got a monkey off their back by winning the Slam this year, then Leinster got a gorilla off theirs. Success breeds success and all that, but it also puts an emphatic end to words like chokers, also-rans and nearly men.

However, as the momentum now shifts to The Lions in South Africa, given the injuries sustained by O’Driscoll in ’05, and Flannery and O’Leary this time, perhaps we can also hope to put an end to the most offensive phrase which usually emanates from across the water: “The luck of the Irish”.

ALLEZ LES BLEUS!