French need Clouseau to detect how Wales could steal this one
WALES were on the Riviera last night thanking their lucky stars amid unconfirmed reports that Inspector Clouseau has launched an investigation into a capitulation unprecedented in its absurdity.
Even Peter Sellers’ bungling alter ego of Pink Panther fame would be hard pushed to avoid the blindingly obvious: an open-and-shut case of France throwing the match on a scale of incompetence never seen in the Six Nations before.
Warren Gatland needed no prompting to concede that Wales had ‘got out of jail’. The clanking sound of the cell closing on his team at half-time left the head coach scratching his head for an escape from the predicament, never imagining that the French jailers would provide one by leaving the keys in the door of the slammer.
Wales’ claim that they ‘found a way to win’ does not bear too much scrutiny. It would be more apposite to say that France found the way for them, several ways, in fact, from putting George North’s first try on a silver platter to lobbing the second into his open arms as well as the small matter of five missed shots at goal.
The full extent of the damage amounted to 27 points. No team had ever lost a Six Nations match from the command of a 16point halfway lead. At that stage Wales had dropped the ball eight times more often than their opponents as well as missing more than twice as many tackles.
They deserve credit for recovering from the worst first-half by any Welsh team since the Wallabies gave them a fearful runaround in Cardiff three seasons ago.
Beneath a weeping sky Wales also showed they have something they haven’t had since the Seventies, the mental fortitude to win when under-performing.
“We have forgotten how to lose games, for the moment,’’ Gatland said. “Our game management first-half was poor but everyone who wins this Championship will recognise particular games where they’ve had a bit of luck.’’
Nobody will accuse him of exaggeration. The luck came not in bits but in great dollops so juicy that North ought to be complimented on keeping a straight face and a cool head in compounding French misery.
If they have dragged him out of retirement, Clouseau will be intrigued by the presence of two names synonymous with criminology, one on each side: Poirot, as in Jefferson, not Hercule, for France, Moriarty, as in Ross, stupendous in the Welsh back row.
The ultimate game of two halves means that Wales have now won ten in a row despite a first 40 when they played not like the third best team on the world rankings but the 33rd. After a week on the Cote d’Azur in Nice, they will surely make it eleven on the bounce in Rome, then return home for the big one.
England at Cardiff in Round Three can be seen, even from this distance, as assuming historic importance. Beat the neighbours and Wales will have gone one better than Billy Trew’s team from the first Golden Era, eclipsing their 11match streak completed against France in Swansea before a crowd of 4,000.
Had it been in business then to report on the ten Welsh tries, L’Equipe’s banner headline could not have been any more damning than the one emblazoned across the top of yesterday’s issue:
Desesperant! (Appalling) The word screamed out above an image of the hapless Yoann Huget, arms flung wide in despair, a ghastly look on his face at donating North the easiest try he will ever score. How, in hindsight, Huget must have wished he’d simply held the ball and conceded a five-metre scrum instead of allowing it to squirm from his grasp that all his opposite wing had to do was fall on it.
And to think the poor fellow has to sit through it all again during the obligatory video session. He could be forgiven for wondering what he had done to upset the gods, whether his reaction to scoring the second French try had given Providence a jolt between the shoulder blades.
Arthur Iturria’s magical off-load fooled North into drifting inside, thereby giving Huget the freedom to hare along an empty corridor along the left touchline to the corner. The Toulouse wing delivered a triumphal salute, leaving North a try down until Huget presented him with the equaliser less than half an hour later.
The gift enabled Wales to close the gap to two points before substitute fly-half Dan Biggar nudged them in front going into the final quarter.
France had gone to pieces, a disintegration accelerated by Jacques Brunel’s premature decision to replace two of his main men, skipper Guilhem Guirado and scrum-half Morgan Parra.
When a French pack reinvigorated by Felix Lambey squeezed a penalty out of the Welsh scrum for the one and only time, in the 70th minute, Camille Lopez duly restored the most fragile of leads. Wales had ten minutes in which to save themselves or, more pertinently, France had ample time for one last implosion.
It took them only two minutes to deliver it, ironically from an attack which looked dangerous for Wales until Sebastien Vahaamahina ensured it would destroy France instead. Gael Fickou had already plucked one wild pass out of the air when his second row teammate with five A’s to his name threw a wilder one.
Had it been a theatrical production in the West End’s home of farce at the
Whitehall instead of a serious international event in sheeting rain, Vahaamahina would have spotted North on the far left and shouted: ‘Hey George, can you catch this one?’
Could he ever. North caught it in one hand without having to break stride and make the 60 metres to the line in glorious isolation. Like the rain, the gifts kept on coming and once ahead Wales had the technical expertise to ensure they were home, if not dry.
North will argue he made his own luck, a shining example that no cause, however hopeless it looks, is ever lost until it becomes just that. As the man himself said: “Anything can happen, especially in these conditions. We talked all week about chasing everything down. We made a few mistakes in the first half, myself included. We were a good few yards off the pace and we know we’re nowhere near where we need to be.’’
If they can be that poor and still win, imagine what will happen when they play well. As for France, and the neutrals reared on Blanco, Sella, Berbizier, Benazzi et al, the yearning goes on.
Clouseau must be tempted to give it up as a bad job. Desesperant…