Possibly greatest game of all time

The feel-good factor lasted long into the night, which not even a near two-hour delay on the Heathrow tarmac could diminish. All you had to do was think about that game. Some intellectual snobs might disagree, but it's funny how sport can enliven the spirit and even unify countries in the middle of a trade war.

Then came the bonus of Sunday night's highlights. The titanic Australia-South Africa game was a riveting once-off, but you'd be reluctant to watch it in full again, whereas France's victory over the All Blacks could stand up to repeated video viewings.

As the deadlines were gradually met and laptops were zipped up, the debate began. The best game ever? Quite possibly. The 1987 semi-final which saw France stun Australia with France's pitch-length try culminating in Serge Blanco's touchdown in the corner had an even better denouement, but not quite the sustained drama, fluctuations and variety of Sunday's 80 minutes in Twickenham.

For sheer French verve, and it should be said, All Black verve also, this one takes some beating. Quite where the French dug it up from, perhaps not even they know, but rugby needed this game, the 1999 World Cup most certainly needed it, and so too did French rugby. A pall of depression had descended over French rugby in the last 12 months not dissimilar to the postLens reaction in Ireland, and with good reason.

For this was the reigning Five Nations' wooden spoonists overcoming the Tri-Nations champions (so now we know the relevant formguides). They had suffered a first ever defeat to Tonga, a loss to the New Zealand A side and a record 54-7 whipping by the All Blacks in Wellington last summer.

Undoubtedly, that may have contributed to Sunday's build-up and the respective mindset in the French and All Black camps. With that 50-pointer in the memory banks, with nearly all TV time and media print focusing on their battery of match-winners, the previous day's semi-final telling them who awaited in the final, there must have been an element of complacency in the All Black ranks.

That would, in part, explain the cockiness with which they sought to engage France in open rugby rather than close out the game as their 2410 second-half lead was gradually eroded. (You wonder if the dropped former captain Justin Marshall might have steadied the ship.)

At 24-13, the abysmal Tana Umaga had helped to cough up a soft three points by counter-attacking inside halfway with a wild pass to the deck, and if there was a bigger turning point it was assuredly Jeff Wilson's puzzling decision to go it alone with a counterattack just after France had got to 24-22.

Throughout the 100 minutes' plus of rugby on Saturday, the Australian and South African back three had methodically played the percentages in such situations, either by kicking down the tramlines or kicking to the corners. Throughout the game, France had been hitting All Black rucks hard and contesting the ball on the deck in a manner that drew a barrage of penalties against them from Jim Fleming, and in turn drew a cacophony of boos for Fleming, especially when he returned for the second half.

Fleming may have been mindful of his notorious reputation in New Zealand, where the All Blacks have lost the majority of the dozen or so matches in which he has refereed, during that first half. Thereafter he may have been mindful of the crowd as the penalty count suddenly veered heavily against the All Blacks.

Whatever. Maybe he was just unsighted at that 56th-minute ruck, as a French forward wrestled the ball from the New Zealand side of the ruck while no longer on his feet (most probably the game's prime groundhog, Marc Lievremont) It should have been an All Black penalty, as it had been throughout the first half.

Whereupon the brilliant Fabien Galthie, noting that Wilson was not at home and with no one covering for him, chipped up the line and again France had the break of a wicked bounce which the livewire Christophe Dominici gathered without breaking stride.

Now ahead, the adrenalin and confidence began pumping through French veins. With each passing minute there was a remorseless and thrilling sense that this would be their day. The tackling went in even harder, and Galthie's jumping, neck-high assault on Lomu may have conceded a penalty, but it epitomised France's increased will to compete and will to win, not to mention Galthie's phenomenal tackle count.

TO understand this finest hour in French rugby is to realise that it wasn't the pacy, all-singing, all-dancing brand of rugby which has so often entranced the world. There was no Blanco, no tries from the end of the earth or their own goalline.

They competed hard, explored the narrow side brilliantly, and made judicious use of the boot to score all three of their second-half tries. It was physical, brave, front-up rugby, played intelligently, albeit with no little skill, which located the All Black line-out, blind-side defence and ball played in behind as Achilles heels.

"ENORME" was the banner headline in L'Equipe borrowing the new buzzword in the French camp, "BUGGEUR" was the reaction of the Wellington Evening Herald.

Though this writer was certainly in a minority within Twickenham's confines, where the joy was due largely to the eclipse of the All Blacks, I felt more than a little sorry for the vanquished. In the last two World Cups especially, and on many occasions in between, they have consistently given us more good games and more good rugby than anyone else.

For all the brilliance of the Wallaby backs, their wingers are never used off second phase, never mind first phase, and brilliantly organised as they are, they are possibly the most structured side in the competition. As for the Springboks, the more it went on, the more they relied on Jannie de Beer's boot.

More sympathy is reserved for a legion of greats, the likes of Robin Brooke, Josh Kronfeld, Ian Jones, and perhaps even Andrew Mehrtens, and Wilson, who can now be added to Frank Bunce, as players who never won the game's ultimate honour.

What made Sunday so great wasn't just that France scaled such heights, but that they did it against these mighty All Blacks. It takes two to tango, and no two could have tangoed better. You'd hope now that France will turn up for the final.