Keith Duggan/TV View: Day Two: Early on Saturday morning, a nation arose, dragged the quilt down to the sofa and watched the first answering of Ireland's Call. There was no fuss, precious little drama and nothing new, except for the appearance of a blond caterpillar of hair on the firm and manly jaw of Brian O'Driscoll.
Tony Ward, distinguished by a jawline that is the envy of many a former Gillette model, wisely decided to ignore this development. He may prefer the slow hand and easy touch but he realises that this is a different generation. If Drico wanted to get in the spirit of the "tournie" by sporting the Bondi smig, then so be it.
Suffice to say we all hope it is a smig that finds itself drawn back by the velocity caused by Drico's crossing of the try line, a sight that we are becoming remarkably unaccustomed to.
Anyhow, Tony had other matters to preoccupy him. Up first was Romania, one of the developing nations that have made it Down Under. You can always tell an IRB developing nation by the quality of their gear. Romania's was rubbish. They didn't mind though. They just looked happy to be there. Ireland were expected to win and did.
"The old cliché applies," maintained George Hook afterwards. "A win is a win is a win."
It is not encouraging that the analysts are rifling through RTÉ's massive "Old Clichés" bag at this stage in the tournament. No doubt the pickings were slim enough given that Jim Beglin had almost certainly ransacked it prior to his departure for Basel. But whatever the budget at Montrose, the investment in a pot-pourri of new clichés would have been welcome. The nation needs them.
Star of the show was unquestionably the Romanian outhalf Ionut Tofan, a man who is delightfully unfazed by the quite astonishing wildness of his kicking game.
Romania won a number of penalties and then loyally stood back to watch their outhalf spray them in the general direction of greater Gosford. Often, it was debatable as to whether he was even aiming for the posts, content instead to just hoof the ball up in the air, watch it swirl away on the breeze and then endearingly shrug as if to say, "that's life, folks."
Life it may have been but it certainly was not rugby football, at least not the kind practised by one A. Ward. If our man has to endure many more of these developing outhalves, there will be tears. He quivered as it was when analysing the second of Tofan's volley of botched shots.
"Almost laissez-faire in his approach," sighed Tony W., a man who despises the Keynesian school of goal-kicking.
In a way though, Tofan is the most natural kicker in the tournament in that he shoots without a conscience. Not for him the agonising practice and repetition of a Wilkinson. When you are 26-7 down, why worry about whether you add three points? It is a great attitude and one that enabled Tofan, minutes later, to smack a stunning drop-kick off the post from what seemed to be 50 metres. "Wow," exclaimed Ryle Nugent.
Later though, he reverted to type, sending another potential three points sailing far, far away.
"Shocking. Just the laidback style," groaned Tone and Tofan was as chilled as a Bondi surfer, frisbee-throwing the kicking tee away and throwing his eyes up to heaven as he made his way back. And the Romanians kept coming, eventually breaking across the Irish try line in a move that improved their already excellent moods. They smiled and hugged one another and made little gestures of mutual congratulations; basically, they behaved the way we used to a few years ago if we managed a try against someone like the All Blacks. Or Scotland.
At other times though, the clumsiness of the Romanian play forced Wardie to utter the four dreaded words that seemed to condemn Irish efforts on the many bad days. "All a little loose."
Back in studio, things were nice and tight. George Hook was "having a go" at the frequency with which referees were going to the video referee before making their decision.
"We are only a footprint away from introducing braille. It's nonsense." Braille?
Best not ask. The three were clearly surprised to find themselves up and about at the unseemly hour of eight o'clock.
The suits and ties were a bit hard on the eye at this point of a Saturday morning, however, and some imagination from the wardrobe department would not go astray. Would a slumber party theme not work well for the next early whistle?
You know the scene: scattered pillows, chocolate cookies and milk, favourite rugby annuals. The Hookster in nightgown and Rip Van Winkle sleeping hat. That would be an analysis worth waiting for. Later on, word filtered in that New Zealand had beaten Italy by 70-7. Talk about a rude awakening.
