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England have emerged from a toxic relationship
By Sam Roberts
Rugby has been in ill health. Hunched and hurting, it has retched up all sorts of bile in recent months. Perhaps we are lucky that it is still alive. Even the malady-soothing Netflix documentary has been spat back across the room: rugby wheezing indignantly that anyone would want to force down such an obvious medicine. “But what if they share our secrets?” That’s exactly how F1, Tennis and, in a few weeks, Golf will be cashing in. And yet our sport suggests that tonic will never work for them; such piety has plagued the game forever: ‘It wouldn’t happen in rugby.’ Neither, it seems, will an enlightening fly-on-the-wall documentary that will bring the sport to millions of new fans.
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Maybe the Calcutta Cup can go some way to providing a cure? Ignoring the uneasy history of the prize’s moniker, England and Scotland produced an encounter that, while not righting any wrongs, went some way to creating a pep in the step of rugby’s most excellent showpiece.
The home side are emerging from a toxic relationship. One in which they were gaslit into thinking they were something they are not. Only the foolhardy at Twickenham would expect an immediate and effective response from their team. This was the first time out with their new beau: still finding their way, getting used to each other’s social cues. And yes, their new man has a lot of similarities to the last one, crutches were present, but these are small steps. Maybe they can grow together, change together, cast off old foibles and bring out the best in each other. There was plenty to suggest they could.
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England’s first try was an indicator. Marcus Smith took the ball to the line and having been provided with multiple options, chose the snazziest. A deft cross-field kick that was gathered and dotted down in adroit fashion by Max Malins. The Saracen winger seemed to embody a new dawn the best. He ran with more belief than Ollie Hassell-Collins, varnished and pristine on the other wing. Not that the Exile was quiet, he clocked up some metres, but Malins appeared to be enjoying himself. Hopefully, that will come for ‘OHC’.
England’s first try was a response to going behind. Scotland had carved a fine hole in the outside centre channel and then reworked the ball onto the boot of Sione Tuipulotu; Huw Jones, who has previous with England, had time to allow the ball to sit up for him, so perfect was the grubber. Five years ago, Murrayfield had parted sumptuously for the former Harlequin, but now, back in a familiar postcode, Jones was all pouncing and smiles as Scotland designed a tidy opening score.
But if the opening salvo from Scotland was syllabically pleasing, the rhythm of the second stanza was resounding. Van Der Merwe on the dance floor; you could not stop the groove: Duhan, do you know just how good that was?
Only standing next to DvdM proves how big he is, not that England had time to measure themselves. He was past two before his gait had lengthened. His strength and speed made the opposition look ragged and incompetent. Defenders sought him low, Dombrandt sought him high; this was a score of its own dedicated fashion: as individualistic as it was brilliant.
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But England and Malins had a second before the half was out. A subtle yet telling cameo from the impressive Lewis Ludlam. He had to draw one and put the winger away: many times attempted, often butchered, the blindside timed his pass to perfection to give England a half-time lead.
They extended it early in the second as Ellis Genge’s goal line plunge was too much for Scotland’s resolute defence. Ollie Chessum on debut was proving a man fit for international duty all around the park and England could have forged ahead from there. But too many fissures were present. One such crack Ben White exploited and jinked his way through, bringing Scotland back to within a score.
The final quarter was an enthralling denouement. Farrell had hounded Finn all game. Left a few late shots on the midriff and despite not bringing his kicking boots, showed that tackle school was kinda working. But mastery is sometimes about riding out a storm; knowing that if you keep your head, your wind will blow. Inside the last ten minutes, for the deciding move, Russell’s eminence bore its teeth. The ball worked from one wing to the other; two perfectly feathered Finn passes stitched the move together: the first looped to find Kyle Steyn, and the second beckoned Fraser Brown forward. Richie Gray’s quick hands helped manufacture Duhan’s brace but the time and space had been purchased by the gifted fly-half. Scotland’s winning try was as good as any the contest had seen.
The whistle came as captain Jamie Ritchie cribbed at a ruck, like so many of his colleagues before. Another England attack foiled and with it the ultimate prize. A win at Twickenham, three in three years, and a three handled trophy retained.
There are questions for both sides. How Scotland can use this performance to push them through the remainder of the tournament is one. The others belong to England. Namely around 8, 9, 10 and 12. If answers can be found, the rest of tournament will get better and October’s looming gathering appears less daunting. On this showing, England’s indisposition could be lifting.
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