Leinster are taking Europe to next level
It is often argued, usually by politicians reneging on a manifesto promise, that “the perfect is the enemy of the good”. Which is true, no matter who happens to be saying it. If you require proof, ask Toulouse. The reigning French champions are rarely less than good: on one of their frequent hot streaks, they leave “good” behind in pursuit of something better. But in Dublin last weekend, they ran into a Leinster side on the cusp of perfection – the very last kind of enemy Antoine Dupont and company needed to see in a major European semi-final.
When it comes to sport, more people are fluent in hyperbole than they are in English. On the strength of a couple of heavily televised tries – pretty damned good ones, admittedly – a 19-year-old academy graduate from London Irish is being celebrated as a world-beating mix of Serge Blanco and Christian Cullen, with a twist of Juan Martin Hernandez and a sprinkling of Dusty Hare (sorry: misprint).
Yet the talk of Leinster being the finest “club” side of the modern era – that’s “club” as in province, rather than “club” as in “club”, but life’s too short for the debate – demands to be taken seriously. Not only do they have the glittering prizes to support the claim, they also have the style. Right now, the best of their rugby is as beautiful as rugby gets.
Are they really more accomplished than previous contenders? It’s hard to tell. Cross-generational comparisons are the devil’s work: just because Western Province won 13 Currie Cup titles in 16 attempts either side of the Great War, it didn’t mean Cape Town was the centre of the rugby universe. Most union nations were still playing “friendlies” at the time.
In researching the history of topdoggery, we might usefully mention Beziers. Who, you ask? That mid-table ProD2 bunch down there in the south of France? Yep, them. Between 1971 and 1984, they won 10 national championships and bagged three Yves du Manoir titles – a run of measurable, tangible success that stands comparison with anything else out there.
They couldn’t win Europe because there wasn’t a Europe to win, but under the coaching of Raoul Barriere, who developed a uniquely Gallic form of power-pragmatism, they certainly had the capacity to bludgeon the entire continent into submission. Alain Esteve, Michel Palmie, Olivier Saisset, Alain Paco – these players were at the heart of a system based on overt physicality, a mastery of contact skills and a complete command of the dark arts. Beziers were the opposite of beautiful, but winning ugly is still winning.
Only Toulouse, across the extraordinary span of 40 years from the early 1980s, and Toulon, for around a tenth of that time, stack up in the same way, and as they have a European dimension denied to Beziers, they can legitimately be mentioned in the same
“Right now, the best of Leinster’s rugby is as beautiful as rugby gets”
sentence as the Leinster of the here and now.
So too, in their very different fashions, can a small handful of English teams: the “golden decade” Bath of Jack Rowell and Stuart Barnes; the Leicester Tigers of Dean Richards and Martin Johnson; the Wasps outfits of Warren Gatland and Lawrence Dallaglio. Saracens, who won three European titles, five Premierships and an Anglo-Welsh Cup between 2010 and 2019, have as persuasive a claim as any of the English entries.
But the strongest evidence suggests that Leinster are now a stride ahead of any northern hemisphere forerunners, not just of the recent past, but also of the more distant one. Next weekend in Marseille, they will be hot favourites to win a fifth Champions Cup title – a feat achieved only by Toulouse – and, for good measure, are likely to win their bread-and-butter “domestic” competition for the ninth time this century, which almost equals the number of name changes inflicted on a long-suffering public by the tournament administrators.
Technically, they are off-the-scale proficient, with average ruck speeds of under two seconds and more running angles than it is possible to find on a geometer’s protractor. They have an exceptional front row blessed with all the virtues, a top-end loose trio, a livewire scrum-half, magnificent playmakers in midfield and a back three full of natural finishers.
Of course, it helps that they are basically Ireland in blue shirts and that the financial structures underpinning the sport in their country allows them to retain the lion’s share of their talent. But when a team performs this thrillingly, these are mere quibbles.
Truth be told, they are up there with the best of the southern hemisphere. Which means the New Zealanders. If the Aucklanders of the early professional era – Sean Fitzpatrick, Michael Jones, Zinzan Brooke – were patently the best nonTest side in the world, the same could be said of the Canterbury-based Crusaders when Richie McCaw and Daniel Carter were on the payroll. Proper teams, those two.
For as long as we can remember, it has been a stretch to imagine any European side scaling such heights. Now, the thought is rooted in reality. Leinster are more than brilliant. They are a sporting paradigm shift.