SHANE McGRATH ON A GLORIOUS WIN FOR SCHMIDT’S MEN

Beating the best in the world is a big job demanding plenty of nerve

SO THIS is what it sounds like. This is what it looks like, feels like. In one thunderous rumble, was the greatest result in Ireland’s history acclaimed. Against a full-powered New Zealand, Ireland stood up to greatness and they matched it.

What happens after this? Form and injuries will have their say, but Ireland are in a place they have never been before. They are the equal of any side on the planet. And that news was greeted with a riotous version of The Fields of Athenry shortly before 9pm last night.

Peter O’Mahony was interviewed on the field but the singing wouldn’t stop. The usual rush for the exits after a game did not happen here.

Thousands clustered around, as if warming themselves on an occasion with which they will bore their grandkids. This is bigger than a Grand Slam, bigger than Chicago, because it was New Zealand at their best, and because it was in Ireland.

In one of their last sorties into the All Blacks’ half, Johnny Sexton and Jacob Stockdale drove Ben Smith into play five metres from the New Zealand line, the Irish out half punching the air with delight after they did it.

There were six and a half minutes remaining and Ireland were gasping for survival. The match was being dominated by the visitors, who were trying to cross a sevenpoint gap to Ireland through skill and cheating.

The pre-eminence of the world champions was explained a few minutes earlier as they relied on their skills and a willingness to be as cynical as possible.

They were getting away with it, too, but Ireland would not crumble.

Despite a flaking lineout, despite the limping departures of Sexton, Rob Kearney and O’Mahony, despite those decades of brutally enforced inferiority, Ireland would not give in. They withstood a mighty team and the anxiety that comes with trying to conquer them, even with the 10-point advantage Ireland enjoyed for a spell.

A five-metre attacking lineout promised rich bounties, but suddenly New Zealand had disrupted it and threatened to break free up Ireland’s exposed right flank.

Kieran Marmion swept back to ramp down the threat, but it was another reminder of the danger that pulses tirelessly, even in a misfiring New Zealand team. There were others, Kieran Read knocking on after blocking down a Stockdale clearance, another from a slick New Zealand lineout move that almost set them free.

Dominance shouldn’t lead to such a sense of disquiet. Beating the best is a job demanding nerve, however, and Ireland required plenty of it, even in a first half that they ruled.

They had dominated the ball and New Zealand conceded eight penalties to Ireland’s two. And given those measures, Ireland should have led by more than three points at the break.

The sense that a winning margin against New Zealand never seems great enough is a tenet of Test rugby now. And it pervaded the stands here from the first minute to the last. And as the game wore on and Ireland inched closer to victory, acts of heroism had to become commonplace. By the start of the fourth quarter, the world champions had finally found some rhythm, and threats kindled everywhere.

Marmion, Kearney and O’Mahony all smothered dangerous attacks, but fatigue was biting hard into Irish muscle. O’Mahony couldn’t stand up after engineering a critical turnover in the 63rd minute, just metres from his own line.

Supporters found cause to cheer as often as possible, but despite New Zealand’s palpable difficulties, they were always within sight of Ireland.

Turnovers, bullocking scrums and Ireland’s desperate ambition, evident in the decisions to kick penalties to the corner rather than taking three points, all drew eruptions of raucous enthusiasm.

But there was the unshakeable feel of Ireland, for all their effort and effectiveness, not having done enough.

This sense was not banished even in the moments immediately following Stockdale’s wonderful try.

In a move seen before in Schmidt’s Leinster team, and showcased for Ireland in the past, too, Sexton cut back against the grain of the play, popping a pass to Bundee Aki whose flat pass left Stockdale facing forwards.

From there, the winger continued his astonishing scoring record for his country and it got so loud around Lansdowne Road it seemed like the sky could fall in. Unfortunately, it was also the jolt that panicked New Zealand into life.

The drama was taut from the start. As expected, the seats were mostly full for the anthems. This was not because of a flush of patriotism in polite south Dublin – even if Ireland’s two were sung with notable fervour.

The stands were full because of the haka. Fans unfailingly love it, and the atmosphere was sharpened as the bleachers awaited Ireland’s reaction.

It was not as emotional as the figure of eight they formed in memory of Anthony Foley in Chicago, or as obvious as the belligerent advances Ireland teams unwisely chose in the past.

They were competing as equals here, and they could eschew the bolshie theatre.

Instead, with cameras flickering around the ground, the line of Irish players stepped forward, led by Bundee Aki. The Irish line did not move up precisely, with one end failing to keep pace with the other.

But the symbolism was obvious and the Irish supporters loved it.

Aki was subject to some needlessly ignorant comments from Ian Foster, one of the New Zealand coaching team, in the lead up to this match.

As a native New Zealander, his status as an Irish player now was an inevitable topic.

He sung Amhrán na bhFiann, and if that can be easily dismissed by his critics, leading the Irish defiance of the haka illustrated his place in the team. After the theatrics and just before the match started, the Ireland players warmed up with tackle bags. They did a drill where a replacement held the bag and a team-mate tackled it. Aki nearly drove Iain Henderson into the Dodder with the force of his enthusiasm. He carried that temper into the contest, prominent in an Irish opening half that rattled New Zealand repeatedly. The game got much nervier thereafter, and then it moved to an altogether more wonderful place. The world champions were down on their knees, swallowing down defeat as around them a team in their prime celebrated a historic win. This was marvellous. What could come next is tantalising.