LONG READ The immovable object and the irresistible force

Mathematics, supposedly, is the music of reason or, if you prefer, the poetry of logical ideas. If you’re Einstein, this’ll doubtless make stone-cold sense but if you’re wrestling with the arithmetic of the 2025 Six Nations’ title race when you don’t speak fluent tens and units then, I won’t lie, harmonies and rhyming couplets don’t immediately spring to mind. Paracetamol is where we’re at.

So – deep breath – given Ireland’s last match is away to Italy, any win against the French in Dublin should wrap up both the Six Nations’ title and the Slam, although if France sneak it, even with an Irish losing bonus point, then they’ll be in pole position thanks to their vastly superior points difference (+91/+28) assuming, of course, they can beat Scotland in Paris in the final round while scoring four tries; mind you, if the French beat Ireland with a bonus point, then any win against Scotland should suffice but if they don’t, and if Ireland pick up two bonus points, then all bets are off and the Irish are back in the box seat. A draw will likely hand Ireland the title, assuming they beat Italy, with or without a try bonus point, but, obviously, it’ll nix the Slam.

However, if the French beat Ireland without a bonus point, then a loss, a draw or even a win with no try bonus point against Scotland in the final round might open the door for England, assuming they can pick up five points against both Italy and Wales and assuming also that the Irish come up empty against the French, although if France were to win in Dublin with a bonus point and by more than seven, then any win against Scotland should be enough. For what it’s worth, Wales, as far as I can see, appear to be out of it.

In other words, it’s time to dust off your logarithm tables and wax your slide rule or, alternatively, just rent out the kids for an afternoon, crack open a cold one, pour yourself a packet of dry-roasted peanuts and let ITV sweat the numbers for you. Call it payback for those God awful break bumpers.

Look, if you’re Irish, you’ll take 3-0 this weekend and head to the nearest tap-room for a drop or two of the dark stuff. And good luck to you. But, if you’re a neutral, you’ll be crossing your fingers for a 41-42 finish because – whoopee-doo – we’ll then be heading right to the wire and the very final game. Intriguingly, Scotland won’t nick the thing but they might yet decide who does while Wales – suddenly – will very much fancy handing the Wooden Spoon back to Italy. The game’s afoot.

Hats off to the gruff Galthié for inspiring, perhaps even inciting, such a brutal response in Rome from a team that shot themselves in both feet in London.

Shall we speak French for a moment and offer a little candeur? Their Head Coach, Fabien Galthié, is a five-mile frown on two legs – certainly when he’s wearing his game day face – and, since we’re being candid, might not be your first choice in a game of whom-would-you-be-happy-to-be-stuck-in-a-lift-with. (The legendary Dallas Cowboys’ running back, Walt Garrison, was once asked if he’d ever seen his Head Coach, Tom Landry, smile: ‘Can’t say I have,’ he replied. ‘Mind you, I’ve only been here nine years’.)

But hats off to the gruff Galthié for inspiring, perhaps even inciting, such a brutal response in Rome from a team that shot themselves in both feet in London. Damian Penaud was a signature sacking, the bench was wilting with Bunyanesque forwards and his team duly obliterated a lacklustre Italy. He got it spot on; his one headache now being who fits in where against the Irish?

Romain N’tamack’s back from the naughty step. Does he slot straight into ten? If he does, then Thomas Ramos – arguably, even more of a trump card than Antoine Dupont – shifts back to fifteen which means Leo Barré – simply imperious in Rome – misses out. Harsh. But then the alternative is that Ramos stays at ten which, given he tackles like a turnstile, offers Bundee Aki free entry into the French backfield. I think not.

Indeed, for all of France’s vivid brush-strokes against Italy, their midfield defence in this Six Nations hasn’t exactly been an Iron Curtain. Tommaso Menoncello and Nacho Brex tore gaping holes in it in Rome while in the dying seconds in London, another misread in the centre channel cost the French the match. The good news is that after eight weeks on the sidelines, Gaël Fickou’s broken thumb has had two outings for Racing ’92 in the past fortnight; surely, Shaun Edwards’ defensive kingpin will start in Dublin.

The other head-scratcher for Galthié is his bench. Maxime Lucu has to be there – he backs up both Dupont and Ramos and is worth his weight in gold pieces – but will the other seven, once again, be forwards? Somehow you doubt it. This is Ireland not Italy; besides, the Law of Averages suggests there’s only so many times you can load a single bullet, stick the revolver to your temple and pull the trigger on an empty chamber. Antoine Dupont might tell you he’s perfectly happy filling in at outside centre if required but, you suspect, not quite as perfectly happy as Ireland would be.

The bench will also be a brain-teaser for the impressive Simon Easterby. So far he’s gone 5/3 and his ‘finishers’ have finished emphatically, crucially so given they’ve twice been behind at half-time. But will the French avoirdupois force a rethink? And if it does, can the Irish even go 6/2 without playing Russian roulette themselves? It’s a knotty one.

If Matt Sherratt can work seven wonders in one week, what might he do in two? Wales’ attacking shape against Ireland was staggering given how much they brought to the table after so little time in the kitchen.

But you sense Ireland will fancy this. Their Welsh workout will stand them in good stead – despite, perhaps even because of, the wonky scrum, the missed tackles and the lack of a try bonus point – and if their injuries all heal, which might yet be a big ‘if’, they’ll have virtually a full deck to choose from. Factor in home advantage – the place will be packed like cress – the beckoning finger of Six Nations’ history, not to mention The Three Musketeers’ farewell to Dublin and you suspect, they’ll match the moment. Whatever happens, you’ll be able to hang your hat on the almost febrile atmosphere.

Elsewhere? Well, if Matt Sherratt can work seven wonders in one week, what might he do in two? Wales’ attacking shape against Ireland was staggering given how much they brought to the table after so little time in the kitchen. Dewi Lake’s back, Nicky Smith is prompting Lions’ chat – at least, he is in our house – and, against Ireland, Blair Murray at fullback saved a certain try at one end, made an absolute cracker at the other and ran rings round Irish defenders. You’re looking for a Lions’ outlier? Look no further.

So is Scotland another free hit? Or can Wales, seemingly out of nowhere, expect rather more of themselves? You sense it might be a little of both; namely, if they play with the same brio they brought to Cardiff, then the one might follow on from the other. No question, the pressure’s on Scotland …

… who, yet again, are in Six Nations’ salvage mode. Back in early January, they looked like dark horses for the title; suddenly, the knackers’ yard is a ghastly possibility. And you do sympathise. Put it this way, given the world rankings, isn’t third or fourth in the Six Nations roughly where you’d expect Scotland to be? And yet the frustrations mount. England, certainly, was one which got away.

Defensively, no one’s conceded fewer tries in this Six Nations than the Scots but they need more porridge up front. The other – perhaps related – issue is that they too often seem to waft out of matches; indeed, the softest job at Murrayfield this weekend might be operating the Scottish end of the scoreboard because, at some point, you know you’ll get at least half-an-hour to slip away for a cup of tea and a slice of buttered malt loaf.

Italy, like Scotland, are being asked to punch way above their poundage. Alas, in Rome against France, it was a welterweight trading leather with a super-heavyweight and they took the mother of all pastings.

Against Italy they went 32 minutes without scoring; against Ireland, it was 40; at Twickenham, a fat hour, in which time, in total, their opponents racked up 40 points. It was a similar story last year. Inevitably, there’s a va et vient to any match but with Scotland, too often, it’s more va than vient and it needs addressing.

Italy, like Scotland, are being asked to punch way above their poundage. Alas, in Rome against France, it was a welterweight trading leather with a super-heavyweight and they took the mother of all pastings. Slumped on the ropes in garbage time, Michele Lamaro’s dead, vacant stare was almost soul-destroying. It was an infamous beating.

So, no question, they’ll arrive in London stinging and bristling to make amends, assuming (a) Sebastien Negri, Tommaso Allan, Monty Ioane and the outstanding Danilo Fischetti have recovered from their lumps and bumps and (b) their team can get to the wider channels. At some point they’re going to complete their Six Nations’ set and beat the English but at 16/1, the bookmakers are having none of it. At least not this weekend.

No question, England’s honest, tireless troops urgently need a knapsack of points and a swaggering performance. Steve Borthwick tells us his team aspire to be ‘ball in hand’, a tough sell when the English kicked away 69% of their rations against Scotland; indeed, on average in this Six Nations, England have hoofed the pimples off the ball 40 times a game, way more than anyone else. You can hardly purport to be thoroughbreds if you’re going to play it safer than a seaside donkey. Cut loose, boys; you have nothing to loose but your reins.

But as absorbing as the games at Twickenham and Murrayfield will be, every oval eye will be trained on the Duel in Dublin – pistols for two, brandy for one – where the immovable object confronts the irresistible force. Blue and green should never be seen, or so they say. You sense Ireland and France will make for a glorious exception.