Mon Feb 26, 2007 5:17 pm
I thought this, from the London Independent, was a worthy commentary on a great day too.
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James Lawton:
Dignity and brilliance at heart of Irish triumph on unforgettable night
Published: 26 February 2007
Low in numbers and forlorn in the rain, the patriotic protesters made their gesture on behalf of old spilt blood but the irony was evident enough almost as soon as the last bars of "God Save the Queen" died away.
Yes, Ireland had moved on, in its heart and its sport, and it happened with so much haunting beauty you were bound to ask a question brutal to English ears. Who, really, was playing the foreign game? Not, surely, the green horde, fuelled by extraordinary passion and individual brilliance, who brought the world champions to their lowest point since another rainy night in Sydney in 2003.
The truth was moving on a night when life and sport collided with a rare and precious result.
Both were hugely enhanced by the meeting which brought the cleanest of triumphs, on and off the field, to a nation which dealt with the complexities of a moment in its history as adroitly as Brian O'Driscoll handled and Ronan O'Gara kicked the ball.
In a city which not so long ago saw National Front elements in an England football crowd riot at Lansdowne Road, throwing seats down from the high terraces and chanting, "No Surrender to the IRA", the British national anthem was greeted with solemn but unforced dignity, even in that corner of the ground once raked by Black and Tan machine-gun fire. Jonny Wilkinson kicked his first penalty goal after that preparation which sometimes, at least to beaten foes, seems to impinge on eternity, without provoking even a hint of a heckle.
Astonishing forbearance or simply good manners? The mood of the vast crowd suggested the latter, and that was at the heart of the Irish triumph. It was the kind that comes when natural-born style is brought to even the most complicated corners of life. O'Driscoll, the golden but often edgy warrior of Irish sport, walked the line between deep-felt pride and easy sentimentality quite superbly. He played like a lion and talked like a thinker. When asked about the emotions so visible on the faces of some of his team-mates when the Irish anthem was sung, he suggested that different men express their passion in different ways. In his view, actions speak loudest of all and he was delighted that Irish rugby had left such a memory in the citadel of Gaelic sport. It was in the way of a reciprocal gesture, he said. Croke Park had been opened to "foreign" sport and 15 Irishmen had found a way to say thanks.
"I suppose, deep down, that was at the heart of a lot of what we were trying to do," said O'Driscoll.
Certainly, the boundaries of Irish sport were crossed quite exquisitely when Ireland scored their penultimate try. O'Gara, a giant utterly eclipsing a Wilkinson who looked both bewildered and some way from full fitness, floated a kick into the left corner of England's defence and Shane Horgan, a big and irresistible boyo this night, timed his catch perfectly.
This was Irish sport, all right; it was Gaelic football beautifully realised with the wrong-shaped ball. England were more than beaten. They were publicly undressed - outwitted, outplayed, outconceived in the business of playing the 15-man rugby that over the years they have discussed as though it was some worthy work project rather than a natural response to the challenge of a game of depth and a wonderful range of possibilities.
That England failed in that deeper ambition when they lifted the world trophy did nothing to diminish the splendour of their achievement then, the leadership of Martin Johnson and the ultimate nerve of Wilkinson, but ever since they took their bows, England have been unable to separate themselves from the suspicion that they had won in a way which neither advanced the game at large nor their own prospects of finding a new and superior way to play.
This may be a historical perspective imposed on a new set of dismal circumstances but the England coach, Brian Ashton, shell-shocked when discussing what might have been described as the mother of reality checks, was candid enough about his own view of his team's disastrous breakdown in competitive standards.
He said he didn't feel disgraced or humiliated so much as a man who had just been given "a hell of a lot of work to do".
Where does he start? In the bowels of the great stadium he made a decent stab in the direction of honesty, the basis of all redemption. He had not been kidded by the wins over Scotland and Italy - and hinted that talk of a revived status and serious possibilities for the coming World Cup had been nothing more than signs of post-stress hysteria.
Ashton has to probe amid the rubble of an English game that has embraced professionalism as more of an invitation to make money than shape a spirit and a structure which might permanently threaten the traditional edge of the southern hemisphere. For some time, inevitably his work will be a reclamation of spirit and resolve rather than dynamic team-building. For all its advantages in numbers and resources, the Rugby Football Union has asked Ashton to deal with nothing less than psychological bankruptcy.
As he attempts to do it, the Irish effort must serve as a shining model. Ireland had five players, led by a less than fully fit O'Driscoll, who spent part of their youth playing Gaelic sport. But then each one of them was perfectly attuned to the demands of modern rugby. By comparison, England lumbered like a weary dinosaur.
Ashton allowed, there was just one clear plus in the resilience of the try-scoring debutant David Strettle. Ireland worked the new boy over with some special attention but his head never touched his chest. If England were desperate for a sign of renewal, this was the only place to look.
For Ireland there was only one cause for regret. It was their failure to secure in this place two weeks ago a magnificent fightback against the Six Nations champions-elect France. Then, you have to believe, Ireland drained themselves of the emotion that was so perfectly controlled against England.
They lost as much to the force of history as the guile of the French.
Now they are free of all encumbrance. They have appeased history, masterfully, and laid a claim on the future. It may not include a World Cup victory over the stunning All Blacks but maybe the Irish have already assured themselves of a certain honour. They have proved, under great and subtle pressure, that they are capable of producing the best of themselves.
It is the greatest achievement in sport - and another reason why this was a night never to be forgotten.
