Enniskillen dragoons fire a vocal volley

The thinking of the usual gathering – though not always in accord and sometimes heated in the exchanges – tends to wind along fairly predictable parallel paths.

The Durban July had come and gone and left the bulk of the assembly considerably poorer – with the exception of the Incomprehensible Scot, who scooped the pool in the annual draw on this country’s most fabled horse race.

There had been an air of inevitability about that. For the Scot, though always liberal with his winnings, tends to be the man at the front of the payout queue.

The talk turned to a desultory examination of the Super Rugby final in Wellington where a committed Highlanders threw everything at the Hurricanes, the outright favourites to upset the odds and take their first southern hemisphere franchise title home to Dunedin.

It had been a cracker of a match, fast, physical and free-flowing. But as the general remarks mad quite clear, “We were not in it, so why should we really care?”

But the desultory edge to the conversation was to change in dramatic fashion with the welcome influx of a bunch of sportingly erudite young Irish professionals making their way in South Africa.

The quartet, instantly dubbed the Enniskillen Dragoons – drastically altered the tone of the discourse, bringing in an understanding feeling for the game of rugby – that had been singularly missing and recast the Super Rugby final in the light it should have been viewed in.

It also had the effect of turning that nascent flame in the direction of the upcoming World Cup.

“What do you think about South Africa’s chances?” one of the Dragoons asked. “The answer is a little complex,” as one of the usual gathering explained. “The Springboks should win Pool B, but then face any one of the likely Pool A sides, England, Australia or Wales, in the next round.

“Ireland’s biggest hurdle in the opening phases looks to be France, but as champions and the most consistent side in the Six Nations, you would have to fancy them to top Pool D and avoid the All Blacks, who look the part in Pool C, in the next round. Yes, you would have to say the Irish have a great chance. And they have Paul O’Connell.”

The parting comment resonated with the de facto sergeant of the detachment of Dragoons, who immediately claimed tenuous familial ties to the legendary lock, and, in the way of the Irish, turned the conversation to another giant of the Irish second row.

The late Moss Keane, the massive Kerryman who locked for Ireland and the British Lions, was a fisheries inspector. But, said the Dragoon, it transpired that he was terrified of the sea. Told to treat a battered ankle with seawater, Keane gingerly filled a bucket and sat well away from the shoreline with his foot in it.

But it was the story, told straight-faced, of front-rower Phil “Philo” O’Callaghan that gave the pointer about what makes Irish rugby so special.

O’Callaghan, the fearsome Munster and Ireland prop, was subject to a loud call as he scrummed down. “O’Callaghan,” yelled the referee, “you’re boring”. The immediate reply? “You’re not so entertaining yourself.”

The Irish are seldom boring and often entertaining, and with the Dragoons in mind, it has to be added that it is often said that all their wars are happy and all their songs are sad.