High-speed Hadleigh has Cardiff in a frenzy as party time starts early
AND so it came to pass that Warren Gatland’s Six Nations’ reign with Wales ended as it started, another Grand Slam pushing them ever higher in the world pecking order.
As due reward for a triumph achieved in some style on a right royal occasion, Wales will turn up in Japan come September as the first European contender to reach a World Cup within months of winning a Slam since Martin Johnson’s England went to Australia in 2003.
Long before then the rest of the Six will have paid more than homage to the champions.
England, Ireland, Scotland, France and Italy will all have £200,000 taken out of their prize money to cough up the £1m bonus that will take the lion’s share for Wales to around £5.5m
Gatland’s third Welsh Slam in eleven years puts him in a league of his own as a coach, even if it does nothing to banish the spectre of the Mooloo man from Waikato ending up in charge of England.
Just as the Kiwi began eleven years ago by inheriting a wooden spoon squad and converting them into undisputed champions of Europe, so his final act ensured the completion of a clean sweep that at one stage seemed every bit as implausible as the one in 2008.
Its delivery also confirmed Gatland as something of a prophet. “If we beat France,’’ he told the Rugby Writers’ annual dinner in London in mid-January, “we’ll win the Grand Slam.’’
As if to stretch his prophecy to the limit, the Welsh players fumbled their way through the first half of the opening match in Paris so much that France reached half-time 16 points clear when it ought to have been at least 25.
And just as Ireland started their Slam in the same stadium with Johnny Sexton’s monstrous drop goal, so Wales dug their way out of their own pit of despair, aided and abetted by a French team who conspired to throw the winning try into George North’s arms having put another on a plate for him some 20 minutes earlier.
The escape prompted Gatland into the most telling phrase of his coaching career.
Wales, he said, had forgotten how to lose, a priceless knack that carried a largely secondchoice XV through a forgettable win in Rome and, crucially, their front-line 23 through the furnace to overpower a rampant England.
This was supposed to be even more of an acid test, an observation that conveniently ignored the fact that Ireland had been unable to live with English intensity in Dublin on the opening weekend and, in turn, incapable of living with the fury generated by Wales during the last half hour.
The great and the good agreed that there would be nothing more than a point or two in it.
Had anyone predicted that Wales would win it by the length of Westgate Street, nobody would have believed him, or her.
Instead of coming down to the last ten minutes, it can be seen in hindsight as coming down to the first minute and a bit.
That Ireland, Grand Slammers in their own right at Twickenham this time last year, never looked like disputing the Welsh supremacy says everything about a home performance in keeping with the occasion.
There were times when Ireland struggled to make a game of it. Their misery had been overflowing long before substitute full-back Jordan Larmour finally found a way through in the third minute of stoppage time.
Despite his try, the defeat added up to Ireland’s heaviest in Cardiff since 1975 when Charlie Faulkner, the senior member of the Pontypool front row, helped himself to a try in a rout that convinced Willie-John McBride to call it a day.
The greatest of Irish Lions will have some idea, therefore, of how his compatriots will have felt, not least Sexton.
The world Player of the Year said Ireland would ‘come up with a plan’ only to discover when push came to shove that they didn’t have one.
The comprehensive nature of their beating leaves Joe Schmidt a lot of soul-searching to do over his team’s fall from beating New Zealand to finishing third-best in Europe.
Ireland’s Kiwi paid tribute to his compatriot’s role in presiding over a Welsh run now up to 14 matches. “I take my hat off to ‘Gats’,’’ Schmidt said. “I don’t know how he’s managed 12 years. You can see what it means to them.
“A super effort today and a super effort throughout the Championship but don’t lose faith with this team. We’ll be turning up in Japan.”
That’s more than they did here against opponents superior in every respect.
There are dream starts and then there is the one Wales made from their first attack, an instantaneous strike of such precision that not even the most optimistic among the multitude would have dared imagine it.
From kick-off to execution took 69 seconds. Gareth Anscombe’s opening volley came down out of the weeping sky with such pinpoint accuracy that Ireland had no option but to concede a line-out.
Alun-Wyn Jones duly seized possession for Anscombe to deliver the deftest of touches from the outside of his right boot.
Again the ball dropped to perfection, enabling Hadleigh Parkes to catch it and touch down without even having to think about
the minor inconvenience of checking stride. Ireland never knew what hit them.
Their laboured response pointed to the blow causing them the same sort of psychological damage that had been inflicted by Johnny May’s second-minute finish for England during the opening round six weeks ago.
The instant seven-pointer had a tranquilising effect on a home crowd many of whom had taken their seats in a state of some anxiety over fears that Ireland would save their best for last.
There was never any danger of that.
The sight of Anscombe’s conversion sailing between the posts brought the opening burst of Hymns and Arias.
The former Junior All Black then set about picking the Irish off with a fusillade of penalties, each and every one providing the cue for fresh choruses of the old tunes of glory.
Wales were home in the hosing rain long before Jones stepped through the puddles on the podium to collect the trophy in celebration of his third Grand Slam.
Do not bet against him collecting a fourth next year.