6 Nations thoughts
The Archipelago
‘Twas the day after St. Patrick’s Day and all through the house, not a drink was to be found, not even a Famous Grouse…
It’s been a strange old 6 Nations for The Archipelago. The days between the weekends have passed in a blur of essays (supposedly about unemployment but some about Football Manager and killing the poor), lectures and the general business of being a research student; the rugby weekends in a blur of rabid alcoholism and palpitations brought on by the heart-attack inducing way Kidney sends Ireland out to play.
I have spent half of the 6 Nations weekends in darkest Cumbria; dragged there, kicking and screaming of course, by Miss The Archipelago; a veritable English Rose she may be but with enough Scottish blood to have a sting in the tail and a palate for the old aqua vita...
In a small corner of Kendal, I erected a four provinces flag on a tree in celebration of Ulster’s favourite (exiled) son and an Irish victory that should have been much more secure than it was. It was a nervous old two minutes when England took the lead at Twickenham – so much white, so many English voices and so much of what passes for banter in these lands… And all so easily silenced by that one moment of Bovian genius.
In various weeks, I’ve had the Germans, the Maltese and even the English standing up for the Irishmen. I taught a tiny Ukrainian girl how to sing Fields of Athenry as the Irish ship was sinking under a bombardment of French drop goals and I had it suggested to me that, if I was going to continue cheering for the English against the Welsh, that I should at least remove my Ireland rugby jersey. Exactly why I was supporting England? Well, it’s a wimmin, of course… Or the wimmin, I should say.
Supporting England is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Not as a result of old national rivalries or silly jingoistic hatreds. Just because, for a team selected from the largest base of rugby players in the world, they are unnervingly bad and I’ve never been one to support bad rugby. England are the rugby equivalent of Wyndham’s Triffids – big and lumbering, with some sense of common purpose and a façade of communication but without any of the hints of mammalian intelligence or dynamism that could make this team into a genuine rugby force. Make no mistakes about it – England have the players to make a serious challenge in any major competition, just not necessarily on the pitch or in the squads and certainly not under the correct management.
The trouble is that, given enough time, those lumbering freaks always have a chance of massing in enough numbers at the fringes of the defences and, completely by accident, chancing upon a weak spot. They always have the potential for that nasty sting, as Wales discovered but this will not happen with enough frequency to make them a genuine or consistent threat. England needs to stop playing rugby like it’s 2003 and start playing it like it’s 2010. Until they do, any team with eyesight will all too easily snuff out an unwieldy, telegraphed and directionless attack. Of course, until Martin Johnson and Rob Andrew work this out, they could always take a leap out of the books of David Attoub and Julien Dupuy…
In keeping with these images of dystopia, Scotland are Orwell’s Proletariat to England’s Triffids; everyone knows that they are dangerous, that they could be precocious, that they could bring the whole hegemony crashing to its knees. The trouble is that they lack to cohesion, unity and sheer nouse to actually do what their potential suggests they are capable of. Watching Scotland is an infinitely frustrating exercise; against France, they built phase after phase without ever going anywhere, or even looking like they might get somewhere. On the rare occasion when someone did a actually make a clean line break, it was seemed to be so unexpected that the rest of the team watched on, dumbstruck and so filled with awe at such a marvellous piece of skill, that they forgot that they had to be there in support to create a scoring opportunity.
Scotland is a capable team but they have to learn how to score tries. Until they do, wooden spoons and last minute collapses are all they can hope for. They are the only team in the 6 Nations who do not look capable of scoring when they get into the 22 and the only team I’d happily bet against scoring from five metres out. The figure of two tries in four 6 Nations matches speaks for itself, as does the even more telling figure of zero tries in three of the four games. As it stands, it is unlikely that Scotland will threaten an Irish defence that has made 220 out of 230 attempted tackles in the last two weeks and that has conceded one try in this time and even less likely that they will spare themselves the embarrassment of another Wooden Spoon.
It’s telling that Scotland’s backrow has been touted as their greatest weapon, and yet, it seems unlikely that any of the “Killer B’s” would make it into an Ireland XV, or even an Ireland 22, should Denis Leamy be fit. Consistency in selection, certainly in the backs, however, seems to be Andy Robinson’s main problem – I won’t pontificate on who may know what Scotland’s best backline is, and injury has, in some ways, forced Robinson’s hand but it seems unlikely that one featuring both Graeme Morrison and Chris Paterson fits the bill.
Morrison lacks both the pace and vision to pick the kind of lines that a 12 of his size needs to in the international game; too often, Scotland’s game breaks down in the hands of Morrison when they have the pace and skill outside of him to do serious damage. De Luca at 12 and Max Evans at 13 should open things up and allow a talented back three to do much more damage than Morrison charging up the middle or missing his pass. Given the kind of game Morrison plays, it’s a telling statistic that John Barclay, the openside flanker, has made more clean line-breaks in this tournament.
Paterson is played at fullback in a damage-limitation exercise; put him where his lack of all-round game does least damage. Scotland seem to persist with Paterson because they can’t score tries and need the points that he will kick, yet having Paterson on the park reduces, further, Scotland’s chance of scoring tries in the first place. I’d like to believe it’s chicken and it egg but I’m not sure is; Southwell and Rory Lamont have also been stilted at 15 for Scotland in recent times. Is this a game plan tailored towards Paterson’s lack of physicality and ability or a product of just how poor Scotland can be that there is no attacking opportunity for their fullback? Either way, in his hands, Robinson has a team filled with threat and potential but that has forgotten, or never learned, how to attack as a unit in the international game.
And Wales… I’m not sure there’s a dystopian image left in my head, let alone one that fits the kind of self-destructive madness that seems to have descended over the Welsh camp; it’s the year before the World Cup, though, so it should be expected. Wales are the equivalent of the small Oriental dude in bad gangster movies who comes out, does about 50 million forward roles, air-kicks, karate chops, all while making high-pitched screeching noises, only to be knocked out from behind by some ugly bald bloke holding a piece of lead piping. They are all show and no substance. They run nice lines but nothing more. Nice lines don’t help when you can’t keep 15 men on the park, or when your fullback has found a nasty habit of falling off tackles on his own 10 metre line.
It’s almost laughable that Andy Powell was dropped only after going AWOL in a golf buggy; the same goes for Ryan Jones and his injury. At least Powell’s year will be remembered for reasons other than his abysmal form. Wales’ backrow performances were sub-par before the Ireland game and, unfortunately for the men in red, Delve failed to have any more impact than Jones had had in the previous three games.
Gatland has persisted with an odd backline selection; Byrne is a liability in this form and Hook offers nothing at 13. Hook may not like playing fullback but it seems the time is right to move Hook back and bring Shanklin or Bishop into the centre with Roberts. Roberts has hardly been a shining beacon of consistency and form either but Wales, sans Henson, lack the numbers to completely change the midfield and still remain competitive against anyone other than Italy and with so much to learn about what they can offer at the next world cup, now is not the time to make changes for the sake of it – Wales need to make changes to find something that works.
And all of this brings us to Ireland… It’s hard to say whether or not this has been a successful 6 Nations for Ireland. We have to face the facts that Kidney got the gameplan wrong in Paris. There were other factors; the French backrow was singularly perfect, and the injury to Rob Kearney left Ireland with an unfortunate rejigging of a backline that severely weakened the team in both attack and defence. This is not to mention the scoreless pressure Ireland had in the opening and final five minutes of the first half, and that only a bounce of the ball beat D’Arcy to a try. Even then, had these things gone Ireland’s way, they may not have stood a chance against a French team on that sort of form.
What defines great coaches is not that they don’t make mistakes; they all do, it is the response of the coach and his team to those mistakes. Ireland lost badly in Paris, yet went to Twickenham two weeks later and, even when the game began to slip away from them, showed immense character to come back.
Winning a Triple Crown is, in itself, no great achievement against The Triffids, The Proles and a Wales side totally lacking in substance but the manner of it would be telling; four wins from five is not a poor result for any team in any 6 Nations but this has been a 6 Nations that has seen Ireland display greater depth in key positions than in any previous year – Ireland have used four different props, three different hookers, four different second rows and six different backrows, as well as twelve different backs. Even a season ago, it was inconceivable that Ireland would use 29 different players in one campaign. True to his word, Kidney has begun building a serious squad.
This time last season, loosehead, tighthead, second-row, scrum-half, out-half and the back three were all places where Ireland appeared to lack depth; a year later, the only problem position is tighthead and even here, Buckley and Court have shown they can step in and do the job. As it stands, Ireland’s real achievement this year will not be in any silverware that Brian O’Driscoll may raise above his head after Ireland’s final game at Croke Park but in the development of serious competition for places in the squad.
