LONG READ Six Nations: Rivalries and realities in round three

It’s an ancient grudge, isn’t it? How else to describe it? A rivalry soaked in history; in good, old-fashioned, neighbourly carping; in cultural feuds; in long-standing allegations of out-and-out larceny. And, last but by no means least, it’s a quarrel of stereotypical perception, ‘sneering aloofism’ versus ‘chip-on-the-shoulder’ victimhood. The Garibaldi Trophy tiff between Italy and France is a precious Six Nations’ spat.

Because, much like the Calcutta Cup animus between England and Scotland, it’s a bicker that transcends rugby. It’s Bardot versus Cardinale, Gucci versus Givenchy. It’s grape wars between Tuscany and Bordeaux; it’s the lasting relevance of French Impressionism versus the tangible legacy of Italian Humanism and, from the Uffizi’s perspective, it’s when exactly are those so-and-sos in the Louvre going to give us back our Titians, Canalettos and the Mona bloody Lisa?

Normally in the Six Nations, the singular motivation to stuff the English is ‘primus inter pares’. For Italy, though, it’s sticking it to the French, their cousins of conceit. No question, there’s a  definite sense of almost bitter sniffiness stretching back to the ‘annexation’ of Nice and Corsica; Gallic hauteur, Italian humility. And, to some extent, it seems the French accept this. After all it was Jean Cocteau who once described a Frenchman as ‘an Italian in a bad mood.’

Historically, of course, rugby matches between the two ain’t been much of a contest; 49 played, 45 French wins. But what sharpens the Italian appetite in the here and now is that last year in Lille, they drew a game – oh, my word – they absolutely should’ve won while the year before in Rome, the Azzurri  scared the shorts off the French when they were leading 24-22 with little more than ten minutes to go and almost snatched it at the death. What was once little more than a forlorn hope suddenly looks rather more like a distinct possibility.

Poor against Scotland in Edinburgh, Italy were far cuter against Wales in the Roman rain. They do appear to have a happy habit of growing into the Six Nations. The team’s congruous, there’s real depth and the urbane Gonzalo Quesada has reined in the wild ebullience in favour of some tactical common sense. What’s more, having effectively handed The Wooden Spoon to Wales, Italy can now loosen up and give France, England and Ireland a right old rip.

And France are under the pump. Their pratfall in south-west London has been greeted by the French media with a hail of stones as yet another Chelem and, quite possibly, another Six Nations’ title – like Andy Dufresne in The Shawshank Redemption – ‘has upped and vanished like a fart in the wind’. The added wrinkle for France is that if they’re to remain genuine contenders, they’ll likely need not just a win in Rome but a bonus point win. And if the first half turns fretful, who knows?

Scotland, as befits a nation whose very anthem is a hymn to slapping the English, will presumably relinquish their four-year grasp of the Calcutta Cup only over their lifeless bodies.

In a similar vein, England’s grapple with Scotland for the Calcutta Cup will curdle blood, two teams nurturing an age-old snarl and both capable of matching a foul mood to the moment, just so long as you don’t expect either of them to do it twice in two weeks. Their one mutual consistence is their serial inconsistency.

Scotland, as befits a nation whose very anthem is a hymn to slapping the English, will presumably relinquish their four-year grasp of the Calcutta Cup only over their lifeless bodies. And given their capitulation to the Irish at Murrayfield – physically, tactically and, seemingly, mentally – they’ve more to atone for than just the poll tax. What’s more, in the wider context of the tournament, if England prevail the reigning Five Nations’ Champions will yet again become a Six Nations postscript for the 25th year and counting. Reputations are at stake.

England, though, need to have their wits about them. The euphoria of outlasting the flippant French – heroic as it was – needs tempering. They shipped three tries and, on another day, could’ve easily shipped four more. Their scramble defence is exemplary but their reliance upon it is a concern.

Likewise the back five of the pack; hyenas at the breakdown, bison in the ball carry, giraffes at the line-out? Are their beasts balanced? Or can they continue to mix ’n’ match? Given their options, you’d assume the latter but, at some point, a proactive rather than a reactive selection looks likely to serve them better.

Which brings us, finally, to Cardiff where Ireland go hunting yet another pot. Having already bagged The Millennium Trophy in Round One and The Centenary Quaich in Round Two, they’re now closing in on – deep breath – a Triple Crown in Round Three (they’re a nip and tuck 1/33 with the bookmakers), very possibly the Six Nations’ title in Round Four (8/15) and a Grand Slam in Round Five (10/11). It’s to be hoped Simon Easterby has a wide mantlepiece.

Certainly, it’ll be an interesting week for the Welsh-based Easterby given he may well be heading to Cardiff with his voicemail clogged with begging messages from the WRU Chief Executive, Abi Tierney. It’d be some irony if annihilating Wales turned out to be the perfect audition for becoming their next Head Coach.

The general consensus seems to be that there isn’t much Sherratt can do in a week. But, then again, picking the right players in the right positions, giving them a credible gameplan, infusing some positivity and just blowing some fresh air into a stale dressing room would be a start.

Wales – potentially – looking to an Englishman to bale them out? That’s how bad it’s got. But then, why not, given they’ve asked another Englishman to stick his finger in the dyke in the meantime. Appropriately enough in the Wild West, it’s a man who sounds like a US Marshal – Matt Sherratt – who’s been invited in to restore some law and order and good luck to him. Universally liked, holistic in his approach and famed for his imaginative attacking ideas, he’s certainly a change of direction.

The general consensus seems to be that there isn’t much Sherratt can do in a week. But, then again, picking the right players in the right positions, giving them a credible gameplan, infusing some positivity and just blowing some fresh air into a stale dressing room would be a start. It might not get them past Ireland but, at the very least, they should look smarter than they did against Italy. Adam Jones shored up the Welsh scrum in just six days. There are precedents.

As for Warren Gatland, his departure was utterly inevitable; as Don Henley said when the Eagles broke up, it was ‘a horrible relief’. At once, he takes his leave as both the best and the worst Head Coach Wales have had: ‘an age of wisdom, an age of foolishness; an epoch of belief, an epoch of incredulity’. It’s been A Tale of Two Gatlands.

No question, he should’ve gone sooner – be that jumped or pushed – an obvious observation that will remain a blot on both him and on the WRU. Never mind the conspicuous lack of improvement in the team, what about the scar tissue? Good, young players selected and then discarded or, alternatively, played out of position and then hoiked off the pitch? It wasn’t pretty.

History will wonder, as history always does, what exactly was Gatland’s undoing. Hubris? Only he’d know for certain. But to swap the Eagles for the Beatles for just a moment, it was John Lennon who, when asked why the band had never got back together, said; ‘you cannot reheat a soufflé’. It’s a cautionary tale for us all. Never remarry your first husband.

So, on a weekend that’s two parts edge-of-the-sofa feud and one part behind-the-sofa in the brace position, what’re we thinking? One home win, one away win and a draw; no names, no pack drill. You heard it here first.