“Twickenham feels more than two weeks ago, to be honest ya,” said Donal Lenihan, and he wasn’t wrong. Maybe it’s because enough has been happening on our planet since then to fill a lifetime, although, to be honest with ya, it feels like this entire Six Nations campaign began six months ago.
That’s largely because of how followers of this Ireland team have been put through the emotional wringer. You know yourself: from doom to delirium… and, well, back again when they were only 12-10 up at half-time against Wales.
“The fickle nature of sport,” as Jacqui Hurley put it. “Yeah, we were down in the dumps,” said Stephen Ferris, “and then they delivered an absolute whopper in Twickenham.” And in the doom to delirium stakes, no one man fit the bill better than Jamison Gibson-Park.
Ireland beat a dogged Wales side under the lights at the Aviva
“It was only a couple of weeks ago that we were talking about him getting too old,” said Stephen, “and then he has a worldie of a game against England.”
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All of which led to a debate among the RTÉ panel on whether he’s the best scrumhalf in the world. It’s as well that Jamison appears to be a highly level-headed chap, otherwise his head would be melted.
Up in the Gods, Bernard Jackman, armed with a huge telly showing JGP’s many highlights from Twickenham, concluded that while Antoine Dupont was the best rugby player in the world, JGP was the best scrumhalf.
Stephen and Jamie Heaslip hummed and hawed a bit, but Simon Le Zebo was having none of it. “Antoine Dupont is the best player in the world. Antoine Dupont is the best scrumhalf in the world. We need to rein it in. Dupont is deserving of his throne.”
Jamie also tried to rein in the delirium by saying “not to be Debbie Downer, but…” But? “England were really poor.” They were, of course, but on the patriotism front, that was unforgivable from Jamie.
He went on to suggest that there were still worries about our scrum, so Jacqui asked Simon for his views on that matter. “My area of expertise,” he chuckled. His advice? “Push harder.”
Any way, if we’ve been a bit moany about this team of late, spare a thought for the Welsh. Methuselah was a nipper when they last won a Six Nations game, and they were heading for a Wooden Spoon three-in-a-row when they set off for Dublin.
As respectfully as they could, the panel predicted a comfortable enough evening for Ireland. Although Stephen was anything but comfortable when those fireworks went off, him having the look of a man who feared Operation Epic Fury had targeted the Aviva Stadium.
Wales were in white, and the lady in the stands dressed as a daffodil might have feared that signalled surrender when Jacob Stockdale scored a try with barely six minutes on the clock. That’s 20 tries in 42 caps for the Ulster man, so he’s kind of Ireland’s Harry Kane.
Jack Conan had another ruled out, but Jack Crowley eased nerves somewhat when he went over to make it 12-3. Home and hosed?
Well, no. “People who thought this would be a massacre are off the mark,” Hugh Cahill bellowed, and that was even before Rhys Carre’s try. “OH MY GOD,” said Hugh, as the man the size of Kilimanjaro sprinted past the Irish defence. “They said he couldn’t run,” Donal gasped, “my God, can he run.”
Ireland 12-10 up at half-time, then, the script shredded. “My God, have we got a game here,” said Jacqui, the lads shifting uncomfortably on their feet. “Some of the accuracy hasn’t been there,” said Simon generously, “if you look at that Twickenham performance, we’re nowhere near it.” Doom to delirium to doom?
Jack Conan’s try early in the second half brought relief, James Botham’s reply didn’t. As ever, this couch judges the seriousness of any rugby situation with its Donal pitch-o-meter – the lower his tone, the more grave the predicament. When Botham, Beefy the Younger, did his thing, the pitch-o-meter read subterranean.
But look, panic not, Jamie Osborne made it 24-17, and the pitch-o-meter detonated. And then Crowley planted a penalty. Job done. Neither doom nor delirium, somewhere in between. True, it’ll be a short enough highlights reel for Bernard to analyse when Scotland come to town next Saturday, but there’s a Triple Crown up for grabs. Remember the days when winning one of these left us delirious?
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