There was little drama or tension... England were just blown away
And there was enough left in the lungs to boo Eddie Jones at the end of the game
ACHIEVEMENTS such as this are commonly reported as dramas. Grand Slams are meant to be won through bitten nails and tension that tightens chests and quickens breaths.
That’s how it was nine years ago. It’s how we suppose sporting greatness of this nature, an uncommon visitor to Irish sensibilities, arrives into people’s lives.
Ireland visits to Twickenham are only supposed to be foregone conclusions when the home team cuts loose and tramples all over the hapless visiting quarry. Presumptions are simply one more thing that the Ireland rugby team send tumbling like nine pins.
There were no last gasps here. There was enough left in the lungs of the few thousand Irish in the ground to boo Eddie Jones when he was interviewed at the end of the game.
The jeers were not an expression of English disgruntlement; all their supporters had left by then. The only people still filling the seats as snow continued to drift out of a limestone sky were Irish fans waiting for the presentation ceremony.
And they took time to boo Jones after his silly comments during the week. They should have spared their energy, and happily their energies quickly returned to celebrating a victory for all time.
This group is remarkable, their coach no less so.
They succeed on the pitch in the conventional sense of scoring points and seeing off the opposition, but the point is that for an Irish side, this is unconventional. In the history of visiting here, for instance, the home of English rugby, defeat and occasional humiliation were endured.
Joe Schmidt has changed that. And he has done so by shaping not only the most talented Irish side ever, but also the most ruthless, the most efficient, the most impressive in moments of tension.
One consequence was that by half time, Ireland had won the Grand Slam. They had scored 21 points, and they had conceded a mere five.
They would go on to score a modest three in the second half, and England ran in two further tries, but never once did Ireland look panicked.
Players went off with injuries, but they were replaced and the process continued undisturbed.
Some, who suffer from terminal mean-mindedness, have alleged there is a joylessness in how Ireland play.
These critics have presumably forgotten the years when Ireland were humiliated in Paris and London, and often in Dublin, when they conceded totals that could have fallen off a cricket scoreboard.
Tell the Irish supporters who disappeared into the London snow last night, untroubled by the wicked cold or the unrelenting showers, that this wasn’t joyful.
Rob Kearney, the most decorated player in Irish history, with Grand Slams – plural – European Cups, league titles and a clutch of championships, would argue against that thesis, too.
So would James Ryan, yet to lose a game for his country, or Jacob Stockdale, another who doesn’t know what it is to be disappointed in the green of Ireland.
‘It was a tight old game,’ claimed Jones, afterwards, not the most ridiculous comment associated with him this week but not in any way convincing, either.
The outcome here was uncertain for maybe six minutes, for as long as it took for Johnny Sexton to send a kick arrowing up into the English sleet, for Kearney to climb and contest it (and perhaps knock it on, unnoticed), and for the marvellous Garry Ringrose to have the awareness to steal in and touch it down.
From then on, England were doomed.
Ireland’s remorseless excellence clamped around them. ‘It’s more relief than anything else,’ said Schmidt afterwards.
‘It always is in these kinds of moments. You’re willing it to happen so much, you’re wanting the guys to go out and deliver what they’re capable of. And it’s a mixture of pride as well.’
Earlier in the week Schmidt had mentioned the role of luck. He quoted Alex Ferguson on the subject again last night. But in crediting fate with a role, he was being too generous.
‘I remember him speaking at Harvard and he said you need to get this, this and this in order – and then you need a bit of luck,’ said Schmidt.
‘In really big games, when you know you’re up against a team that are at least as good as you are, those moments make a difference.’
He was mentioning specifically Stockdale’s try, when the ball bounced off his knee and he avoided touching it and so knocking it on before pouncing on it for the score that turned Ireland from competent into rampant.
That wasn’t about luck; it was a score attributable to Ireland’s cuteness. The clock was in the red by then. The opening 40 minutes were up, and what sides commonly do in those circumstances is kick the ball out of play. Not this Ireland. ‘Sometimes either side of half time teams can switch off a little bit and you can capitalise on that,’ said skipper Rory Best.
‘It’s all about how we feel in the game. While you’re going forward, while you have momentum, we knew we had to attack England. If you sit back and expect them to hand you something, it just ain’t going to happen.
‘That was following through on our mentality and what we committed to all week.’
Ireland’s determination made the second half a matter of staying sensible and protecting their line. Those two English tries will have irked the perfectionist in Schmidt, and will have registered with Andy Farrell, the defence coach, too. No matter.
Their thoughts will quickly turn to the summer tour to Australia, and beyond that to November and the visit of New Zealand.
But Schmidt should enjoy this, the team that he built, the team that defied history and convention to become immortal.
Try telling fans there is a joylessness to how Ireland play now