There’s nothing wrong with daring to dream...
ALITTLE sunshine for the soul on the most dreich of days. A declaration of intent guaranteed to capture the attention of any Scot with a love of sport.
More power to them. Their attitude should be applauded.
In it to win it? That was the line taken by a number of Scotland’s leading players, most notably the always shy-and-retiring Stuart Hogg, as they gathered in the rain at Linlithgow Palace yesterday.
They’re going to the Rugby World Cup not merely intent on progressing from a group laden with potential pitfalls and pratfalls.
Nor will they be satisfied to ‘only’ be overcome in the quarter-finals by the Springboks or the All Blacks — never beaten by Scotland, remember.
The Webb Ellis Cup, that’s the ultimate goal for Gregor Townsend’s men. Good on ’em. Whatever the rugger boys may have lacked in ceremonial panache — and power over the heavens — on their big squad announcement day, they more than compensated for in ambition.
Yes, the memories of hubristic statements down the ages are always going to provoke the briefest of winces whenever one of our number makes such a bold declaration.
Anyone old enough to recall a similarly swaggering approach taken by Ally and his Tartan Army ahead of the 1978 FIFA World Cup may even run screaming into the hills when they hear anything more optimistic than a mild sense of confidence in Scotland’s ability to avoid utter humiliation.
But there’s nothing inherently
wrong in nailing your colours to the mast.
Better to be laughed at for aiming high and falling short, than ignored as an irrelevance who never believed they could trouble the scorers.
And, if the bare facts of finishing fifth in this year’s Six Nations hardly lend credence to all the bravado, the hardened professionals talking so big yesterday were basing their belief on more than just daft patriotism.
Because the way Townsend described his approach to building this squad yesterday suggests a very grown-up attitude to taking on — and taking down — the world’s best.
Toonie the cavalier risk-taker has matured and developed as a coach. And he’s taking his men to the Far East with some pretty pragmatic principles embedded in their make-up.
Time and again yesterday, he explained his World Cup squad selections by pointing to the defensive strengths of those picked.
Duncan Taylor and Chris Harris, he explained, were possibly the best defensive centres in the world.
And, as much as he may still yearn to put opponents to the sword with blistering attacks, he was blunt when he declared: ‘The best winning teams are built around defence’.
He spoke about leadership and of characters who won’t be fazed by anything that comes at them.
Always a deep thinker across a range of subjects, he will definitely have his charges well prepared.
Yet it’s fair to say that Townsend himself has a point or two to prove. That his reputation as a flair-first coach, a risk-taker too easily found out by the brutalists who abound in the modern game, lingers still. His first Rugby World Cup as head coach needs to say something about his ability to adapt and survive.
The range of challenges facing Scotland, from the hard-as-nails Irish on matchday one to the frenzied fury of playing the hosts in front of a hyped-up crowd in Yokohama, won’t be overcome simply by ‘playing our game’ or ‘giving the opposition something to worry about’.
Townsend knows that he and defence coach Matt Taylor will have to improve Scotland’s game without the ball. Or else.
They head to Japan knowing, at least, that they have the playmakers and game-breakers to beat anyone.
And, if the first flurry of interviews with men asked to front up for Scotland is anything to go by, they travel full of more than just blind hope.
And what about yesterday’s ‘ceremony’ at Linlithgow Palace, dreamt up by the SRU to engage with stakeholders and tap into digital markets or whatever nonsense lay behind it?
Sweet baby Buddha. Townsend had to read a potted biography of every squad member, while the few hundred hardy punters — including the obligatory squealing school kids — stood shivering under a patchwork of umbrellas, wet grass underfoot seeping into every nook and crevice. It did not make for a glamorous scene.
The sky wasn’t even darkly brooding, which would have at least made the pictures impressive, in a stereotypically Scottish sort of way.
Thankfully, the players did not revert to dour, conservative — with a small ‘c’ — and canny type.
These boys believe that a different destiny, a fate normally reserved for more cocksure nations, awaits.
Fair play, lads. Now make it happen.