Irish make Wembley their own

Wembley made it special. Having sought all along to make the Wembley factor a positive one, Ireland had little difficulty in putting that theory into practice. From the moment the team bus caught sight of the Twin Towers at 1.50 p.m. - the Tricolour fluttering on one and the Welsh dragon on the other - they knew that this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. And with a little help from David, the dragon was duly slain.

The uniqueness of the whole occasion was hammered home when the team bus was then roared into the Wembley tunnel by groups of Irish fans. They, too, made it special, and the Irish abroad put it up to the denizens of Lansdowne Road in a big way.

Lansdowne Road can get steamed up - and will next Saturday week - but there was more Irish colour and singing in Wembley last Saturday than in a season of "home" internationals. Aside from the flags, hearing a full-throated rendition of The Fields of Athenry during the second half left a lasting impression on the players.

With the atmosphere akin to a soccer match, the rival noise levels were an accurate barometer of what was unfolding on the hallowed turf. It wasn't long into the first-half before the singing Welsh were not singing any more. And so it remained until their second-half purple patch.

But even then, at 26-23, as Ireland worked their way upfield before David Humphreys' clinching drop goal, suddenly an echoing chant of "Ireland, Ireland" reverberated around the famous old ground. The Irish fans even came good when the team needed them.

Roll on England? Absolutely. A rare affliction permeated the Irish camp and beyond on Saturday; a desire for England to beat Scotland and so come to Dublin with their superiority complex intact. The fact that England's unconvincing win means their quest for a fifth successive Triple Crown remains in place makes it all the better.

As Warren Gatland eagerly observed, Saturday's results ensured it is something of a Triple Crown showdown, or at any rate the second leg of a possible Crown for both countries. Would England enjoy coming to Dublin, he was asked. "I don't think any team would particularly enjoy coming to Lansdowne Road," he responded, with an Irish glint in his New Zealand eye.

How would this Irish team cope with the inevitable increased levels of expectation in Ireland, David Humphreys was asked.

"That's what we want," he said, cool as you like. "We want the Irish public to believe in us, to have expectations of us. We have those expectations ourselves." Expectation levels sit easily with Gatland's Ireland.

For Wales, Saturday was a wake-up call, and a reminder that Graham Henry's reign is still in its teething stage. Ireland have come a long way in a year, and not the least important aspect of Saturday's progression chart was the turn-the-other-cheek vow. Gatland took understandable pleasure in revealing that Peter Clohessy came up to him afterwards and said: "I took a few punches for you today. And they hurt."

Keeping the lid on a potentially earth-shuddering forward collision with the English juggernaut will be another matter, but Ireland now approach this game in almost rude health. The pressure is off, big time, and there are no injuries to report. Paddy Johns expects that his dead leg will recover in time to do Cup duty for Saracens next week.

They'll have a full complement of back-rows to choose from, and Girvan Dempsey will come back into the equation. Although the temptation must be to stick with the same starting XV, a hunch says that Dempsey may return on the left wing.

The formula will probably follow the usual routine: a 22-man squad announcement in midweek, and team selection early next week after assembling in Wicklow. For the most part though, management and squad alike hadn't the slightest inclination to look ahead to the English game, even in yesterday's weary but happy decamping home. "Just enjoy," was the gist of the mood.

There was another cue for Lansdowne Road (let's lively up the place) to follow on a day noted for its singing. Six minutes after the full-time whistle the many sizeable pockets of Irish fans who were granted Wembley all to themselves rocked and sang happily to U2's In The Name Of Love.

Inside, Keith Wood instigated a rendition of Clare to Here (as he does). At its end, the Irish dressing-room stopped and listened quietly to the sweetest of chants from some Irish fans nearby. "You'll never beat the Irish".

Not at Wembley anyway.