Is it any wonder this old Six Nations lark is the envy of the southern hemisphere. The European rugby public annually gather in some of the finest cities of the world, savouring the architecture of Rome, the romance of Paris, the style of London, the elegance of Edinburgh, the buzz of Dublin – and then there's Cardiff, which is near Bristol.
On my first Six Nations visit to Rome last weekend, not very much was discovered that we didn't already know. Italy are not very good at rugby these days, nothing new there, and Rome is fairly easy on the eye, as in, if you were to compare their open-top bus tour to the Dublin version, the only similarity would probably be the bus.
You know how it goes “on your left is the Colosseum, considered one of the greatest works of Roman architecture, built in 80 AD” as against our, “on your left is eh Liberty Hall which is considered quite, eeeehhhh tall”.
Yes the Romans might have the edge over us on that score alright, but they don’t have it where it really counts – selling drink. In fact it’s arguably more stressful than UPC’s customer-call service, negotiating the beer-stalls situated outside Stadio Olimpico.
Longest queue
Having joined the longest queue I’ve experienced since A Flock of Seagulls tickets went on sale outside Golden Discs, (don’t ask) I reached the summit, gasping, and was told that first, I needed to buy a ticket to purchase a bira, and the only way to do that was to join the even longer queue right beside us.
I don’t think this system will catch on in Ireland. Although I’d enjoy seeing it being implemented, say on St Patrick’s Day in Temple Bar. “Ye what? A ticket?” Cue a riot that would make the Irish Water protests look like a queue for A Flock of Seagulls tickets.
Then, the match started, or to put it more accurately, started, stalled, huffed, puffed and snoozed, with barely a spark to prevent us nodding off, bar when Tommy O’Donnell took advantage of Italy being effectively reduced to 13 men. It wasn’t total misery. We were in Rome after all, but suffice to say the dropped passes, knock ons and poor kicking were some of the highlights.
Another was observing the Italian crowd, which includes quite a few novices of the oval game, attributing the same level of hysteria when Italy touched the ball, as we would if Ireland scored a last-minute try to win the World Cup.
Even though the first half was scattered with mistakes, or "inaccuracies" as the present-day coaches euphemistically call them, Italy were just plain silly, transgressing to beat the band, and handing Ian Keatley a couple of handy ones to steady his nerves.
Of course, as plain as cheese is cheese, France will provide a different challenge. The main one being, predicting which one of their vast array of collective personalities shows up on Saturday. The plethora of giants in their ranks will doubtless have Ireland scurrying on the back-foot, although against Scotland they looked slow and plodding, like monsters wading in glue.
The notable exception being the tank disguised as a centre, Mathieu Bastareaud who often seemed to have two or three Scots hanging off each leg before finally head-butting the turf.
A safe distance
No doubt
Joe Schmidt
has a plan to combat “Barrel Man” but he’s one of the reasons you remind yourself professional rugby is really more enjoyable from a safe distance.
It’s a tight call whether Schmidt or Philipe Saint Andre look the more pensive of the coaches heading into what is yet another pivotal match, the price of success for the Kiwi perhaps, but the Frenchman just shades it for me. Schmidt’s media default setting is a kind of regretful sighing, accompanied by a “what do I know” shrug of the shoulders, but you always feel he has more tricks up his sleeve than Dumbledore has under his cloak.
Biarritz coach Eddie O'Sullivan, dwarfed and sandwiched by Donal Lenihan and Bernard Jackman on RTÉ's Off Your Head the other night, was delivering his perplexing mixed metaphors again in describing how Saint Andre was going down in France, so to speak. "I think he feels he has one hand behind his back, he's a bit hamstrung, but once he gets his house in order, he'll be playing with a full deck."
Poor old Saint Andre must be in a dreadful state of sixes and sevens if that’s the case, but either way it’s good to have Eddie O back on our screens. All “experts” – and even those ordinary fellas who know nothing apparently – seem to agree England are Ireland’s biggest threat in retaining the championship.
However, with the exception of Rory Best, all the heavies are returning for the reigning champions, allowing our coach to select from close to a full compliment. Now that's a rarity. And just how the sighing smiley man deals with that particular positive conundrum will be worth waiting for, especially in the comfort of the stand with some stress-free sips of a ticketless beer.
Ireland to win a tight one, and to be really greedy, no injuries would be nice too.
