CONNACHT VERSUS MUNSTER has always been a clash of the haves and the have-nots.
In 2004 Munster went to a Sportsground and forced a narrow, uninspiring 3- 0 win over the true owners of that lush, low lying land in Athenry.
In torrid conditions, the first half ended scoreless.
Before the second period got underway, the huddled Galway masses were wolf-whistling a luxury their guests had been able to afford.
Munster had re-emerged from the dressing rooms in resplendent red. A fresh and pristinely clean kit was their half time treat. Connacht were sodden and caked in mud.
The westerners are the only club that can make Munster feel as ludicrous as so many European powerhouses have felt in Thomond Park down the years.
Vulnerable
Now, the southern province is undoubtedly still capable of rolling out 15 spare jerseys, but they are no longer the exemplary club on the continent.
Somehow, the neighbouring provinces seem closer together these days, even closer than the days of a 3-0. There is no change in the league standings, hardly a significant tweak in budgets, so what is it?
Munster just feel, from the outside at least, vulnerable.
Perhaps it would have hurt less if any other club in Europe had succeeded them in the role perennial contenders. Toulouse or Leicester could have been be targeted for a merciless annual onslaught. Leinster must be lived with, played twice a season at the very least, four if both teams are going well.
The fact that it is not just anybody, but Leinster – the Nancy-boys from up the road – has wounded Munster badly.
And, while Jerry Flannery was the latest player to unfortunately hobble away from the UL training ground, the blues were reloading their armory.
There is no distinct feeling that this season can somehow be twisted into some sort of marvelous swansong for Tony McGahan. Meeting an effective, but beatable Ulster in a home quarter-final is but a bonus to enjoy while the clock ticks on towards a sea-change.
One by one, they have lost vital cogs of their success, not only the aging ‘Bull’ Hayes but also some of the exciting young talent which looked capable of being a bedrock for future success.
Barry Murphy was robbed of a glittering career by a calamitous knee injury. Ian Dowling was never going to be an international class wing. He never needed to be: he was a Munster wing,-a ‘John Kelly mark II‘, with an added trademark spin.
The pack, once the most feared in Europe, was all of a sudden bereft of Flannery, David Wallace, Marcus Horan and Denis Leamy.
Tomas O’Leary never recovered from the injury which denied him a Lions test jersey and now even the shadow of his former self will vanish this summer.
It’s never ending. Doug Howlett, one of the best finishers the game has ever seen, will not see action until next season. Then Keith Earls had to sit out a spell too.
And, just after they steadied a creaking ship and chiseled momentum out of a fairly lacklustre group stage; the Six Nations comes along and places a massive doubt on the knees of Paul O’Connell and Conor Murray.
Still, they keep going when lesser groups could not.
Like Leningrad, this is where the red army are at their most vicious. A cornered animal.
Where logic dictates, Munster act the anarchist.
Earls, Jones, Denis Hurley and Simon Zebo. Munster have now gone some way to equalising the threat of the back-line to the pack. A pack that this morning will fancy it’s chances against a bruised and battered Leinster scrum.
Three provincial wins in three weeks would be a panacea for all ills. They are mortal, but Munster could be on track for an incredible double to silence those wolf-whistles of derision.
Skin is tougher over old wounds.
