Murray Kinsella reports from London
WALKING AWAY FROM Twickenham late last night, we happened upon a humorous but sorry sight.
An England fan had engaged a large poster of Chris Robshaw on the side of a phone box and was punching the 2D version of England’s captain right in the face.
As a loyal and slightly less inebriated friend pulled the aggrieved Englishman away from Robshaw, there was a despairing protest and justification.
“He was shit, mate. He was shit…”
Clearly this disgruntled fellow doesn’t represent the English support as a whole, nor perhaps his sober self, but the scene seemed to sum up at least some part of a stunning night at the home of English rugby.
The finger of blame has already been pointed sternly at Robshaw and his decision not to kick at goal with the aim of ensuring a draw in the dying minutes. It’s unfair to focus on a single incident as the winning, drawing and losing of a game, but such is sport.
Perhaps more pertinently, the English inquisition will ask how they showed barely a smidgeon of composure in the final 30 minutes of the contest. Wales, after their set-piece travails and unbelievable injury misfortune, were the ones who demonstrated mettle.
The ref mic is always an interesting addition on game day, and it provided us with a gem in Twickenham. With 56 minutes played and Wales trailing 22-15, Sam Warburton and his pack defended an English maul effort superbly, winning a direct turnover.
“That’s the game-changer,” we heard Warburton shouting to his teammates, “that’s the game-changer.”
How prophetic those words were, so aptly coming after an excellent Welsh maul defence. They produced something even better when England opted to throw to the front of the lineout in the endgame.
Totally contrasting fortunes for the captains of these two Pool A sides. Robshaw has a point to prove in the coming weeks, most immediately against Australia.
Last night’s contest felt like a knockout tie, but next Saturday evening’s visit of Michael Cheika’s Wallabies to Twickenham truly is. The hosts are on the back foot.
Robshaw cut a genuinely forlorn figure in the post-match press conference last night, though he fronted up in accepting responsibility for the late penalty decision and maintained his composure as journalists pushed the point in search of their headline.
Stuart Lancaster beside him looked a little more strained by it all, cheeks glowing red and lips almost quivering in keeping his poker face. The sound of Welsh fans bellowing a rendition of ‘Hymns and Arias’ outside perfectly soundtracked the shot.
The singing continued when Warren Gatland took the stage, the Wales coach swift to question England’s decision-making, highlight some half-time tactical changes he had made and underline the key messages he and his coaching staff delivered at the break.
There did, however, seem to be some genuine emotion as Gatland professed it was a special one for him. The optimism around Wales’ chances had faded with the injuries to Leigh Halfpenny and Rhys Webb, but the wily old fox Gatland never accepts defeat.
The post-match exchanges were calm after the sizzling atmosphere that had come before. Once the distracting and detracting pre-match ‘entertainment’ had finished, a packed Twickenham delivered on the expectation of an unforgettable occasion.
‘Swing Low’ had some hair-raising outings, while a Welsh crowd estimated in a wildly ranging range from 5,000 up to 20,000 sounded a hell of a lot more like the higher figure in the closing stages.
Everyone in the venue felt the nervousness before kick-off and we all felt the momentum shift coming into the final quarter.
It’s almost a primal instinct among sports fans to recognise the changing momentum just as it happens, even before we have acknowledged it with a nod to a colleague, a tweet to the world or even a concrete thought in our heads.
The brutality of the contest was something that we in the stands maybe couldn’t fully relate to, having not lived it, though we could shudder at some of the hits. The sight of bodies strewn all over the pitch heading towards the final 10 minutes wasn’t a huge surprise given how committed the physical confrontations had been.
Knees and shoulders and heads all suffered in the collisions. Joe Schmidt and Ireland are perhaps lucky that they haven’t had to play a game of this intensity and quality so early in the tournament, but from outside the Irish group there is a little jealously.
Certainly the excitement for Ireland’s pool meeting with France has only built, given that it is likely to register at least close to the mark England and Wales left on the Richter Scale last night. A quarter-final against Argentina or New Zealand even more so.
Last night is what all World Cups are about.
While there was disappointment and even distress around us as we made our way across London in the wee hours of the morning by train and bus and foot, the neutral’s afterglow of witnessing such thrilling events paved the way.
The grown Welshmen dressed up as their favourite rugby players dancing in Richmond and belting out ‘Bread of Heaven’ without a care in the world brought a smile. Their night was only getting started, let them sing. Gatty’s boys earned them the right.
