Six Nations: Six burning questions

Six nations came to play. One stands on the brink of rugby immortality: battered, bruised, beaten not. Shipwrecked sailors used to wind up on Ireland’s craggy southwestern shores and stay.

Castoffs like Canberra’s own Mack Hansen, his wingman James Lowe, strongman Bundee Aki, Kiwi livewire Jamison Gibson-Park, and the entire coaching staff (jettisoned too early by England in 2015 only to create the best team in Ireland’s history?) have put the Irish on the verge of a Grand Slam.

To complete it against England on St. Patrick’s Day weekend in Dublin is a lovely way to save a final round (three apparent mismatches) from the anticlimactic.

If Johnny Sexton scores at all, he’ll become the high point man in Six Nations history, supplanting countryman Ronan O’Gara.

Adaptive Ireland has one of the lower meters per carry and yards after contact averages in the tournament, but their passing and kicking has been superb, and depth of purpose.

Anyone who has gone down has been replaced by a willing and educated fellow: even down to Cian Healy and Josh van der Flier (what can’t he do?) teaming up to expertly replace Dan Sheehan (it takes two men to fill his shoes). Ireland is playing rugby like poets digging in their gardens.

Perhaps the player who most exemplifies the Irish 2023 rugby spirit is old Peter O’Mahony.

Even if James Ryan has been their best forward (hotly contested by Sheehan, van der Flier, and Caelan Doris), the rough poet (“You’re a sh*t Richie McCaw”) is their voice.

To the younger members of the squad, he may appear to be a grumpy farmer or father; his social media mostly has him with a shovel in a garden, digging, his hair gray.

Seamus Heaney’s exquisite poem “Digging” comes to mind:

Under my window, a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
Bends low, comes up twenty years away
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills
Where he was digging.

Even if it was correctly overruled, his keen and wise blue eyes saw a chance to score an opportunist try last weekend born of knowing. This Irish team seems to know where the ball will be before it is there, or even knows it will be there.

Balls out the back are caught in iambic pentameter. Every pass finds a man in motion; each phase is a phrase.

Lucky I am to be in Dublin this weekend fueled by curiosity about this team and their visitor, well-beaten England. There is a visitor’s house, a four-iron from the stadium and there I will make my last stand in this beautiful edition of this good old tournament.

I have questions.

Can the Irish Way last five rounds?

To win their first quarterfinal, Ireland have to win game number five in France, with even less rest.

That fifth match will either be against brutally precise France or vengeance-minded New Zealand at a fever pitch (one would think an All Black has a good one-liner saved up for O’Mahony at the death; “And you’re the king of the quarterfinal, mate.”)

This Six Nations has demonstrated Ireland does have the depth it lacked for ages; but even so, players like Garry Ringrose, Tadgh Furlong, Sexton, Gibson-Park, Doris, Sheehan, and maybe more vitally, Ryan (who has a history of concussion) dropping in four rounds shows it is likely their most important quarterfinal in history will be contested by a few understudies.

England will be hurting, with nothing to lose, and niggly. Are the bolts welded into Ireland’s frame? I’ll be watching the collisions, which Ireland has minimised (France has broken 40 more tackles) to see how robust this outfit is, in their fifth Test.

Can France back it up?

A year ago, I was in Cardiff, where a woeful Wales was one dropped pass (by Foxy Davies) away from upsetting the almighty French. Deja vu?

France were not sharp against Italy, listless at the end versus Scotland and lost by double figures to Ireland. They are second worst at conceding penalties and struggled to put an 80 minute performance in.

One perfect day at a shocked Twickenham and the entire team has been feted and anointed as best in class again. There is no question about the top end class of Gael Fickou, Antoine Dupont, Jonathan Danty, Damien Penaud, Thomas Ramos, and … oh, I just named almost the entire backline.

The pack will be pack down hard, but it is the backline which has floated a little up and down. Wales is not a good team this year, but they can make a good team play badly.

Fabien Galthie will want to see precision. France is a country obsessed with the particular: go to a gym in Lyon and a trainer will be carrying a protractor and a ruler, showing you the retraction degree of your shoulder blades.

Eat an oyster in the wrong order in Les Halles and be prepared for a scolding. They scored fifty plus points against England because after bullying the hosts up front, the passes at pace were precise, measured, and on song.

The battle in French rugby has always been about consistency; rigidity versus flow. France kicked 42 times at Twickenham. Ten of those kicks found grass. Half of them put England in awkward spots. The margin of error is still fine when kicking reigns.

Put Wales away easily, without injuries, and you would argue France had the better long-term result from the tournament than Ireland, who is limping to the finish.

Can Scotland win three?

So, it is clear Gregor Townsend has the best group in a long time (maybe since he was playing) but similarly to Ireland, may have lost several stars to the physio table.

But a Six Nations tournament is by definition a Scottish success when it includes three wins and a Calcutta Cup, if the losses were to Numbers 1 and 2 in the world. Italy plays like Scotland did a few years ago: hardly kicking, running from deep, fan favourites, and losing every match. Scotland needs a non-dramatic win.

Can England keep it under seventy?

England is degraded. Weak at the pillar, oddly spread in the back, trams wide open, sub-Test standard at No. 8 and 9, vacillated at No. 10, punchless after phase three, a one-trick fullback (it is a very, very fine trick to be fair) so the long kicks do work (he catches almost every one but does not ignite a counter), a meek spirit (the fewest penalties and the least fights) and booed off the cabbage patch for the second time in six months.

Nothing is expected this week except a Celtic coronation. Blessed with the best World Cup draw in history, England will want to show a glimmer. A light. Something.

I’ll be looking at their defence. The English attack is already better than 2022 (more tries, more breaks, more space). But they are conceding untouched tries. Every week. That’s not Test rugby.

Can Wales trouble France?

I was pleased to see Rhys Webb come back into the side and help his dear nation celebrate some rugby cheer. It was a tear-jerking weekend, with the Fijian Festival, Webb’s vindication, and Galthie’s weeping joy. Wales surely cannot topple France, but could they replicate the 9-13 scoreline from 2022? Slow the French. Bring them down.

Will Italy kick the ball ten or more times?

Italy is playing circus rugby. They may have been forbidden to exit. Kieran Crowley might be fining punts. This game is not won by launched phases inside one’s own 22. It’s slapstick. Not beautiful.

Intent matters not in elite sports: it is what actually happens. This morning a lovely woman I know entered my coffee shop, as I was writing this, and exclaimed my name and came in hot for a huge hug.

I rose into contact, losing one of my airpods in the process. I am on my thirteenth pair, my scrum ears and scars expelling them at the worst times (usually on a plane).

As our hug happened, the AirPod was tumbling down her front, descending as a mad skier in the Dolomites might. Just as the wayward AirPod cleared her chest, I caught it, which resulted in a rather strong right hook into her tummy.

So, to recap. She was happy to see me, hugged me, and got punched just below the bra. This is how Italy is playing rugby at the moment.

The two teams emerging with their World Cup credentials firmly burnished are poetic Ireland and sometimes precise France. How do they stack up to a World Cup version of South Africa and New Zealand? (Not an end-of-year-tour vintage or early Ian Foster All Blacks; but the real thing, hungry and angry semifinal Boks/Blacks, habitual Cup winners both).

South Africa has gees. Spirit. The kind of manic energy and borderline criminal intent which can just refuse to let an opponent score a try in a knockout match.

The All Blacks have mana. The ability to lift and soar and find cracks and do it calmly at the most tense moment.

Both have players to match the Willemses and Lowes of the top two teams. The coaching staffs are in parity.

So, do the Northern challengers have the gees? The mana?

Of the two, France has the bodies, the hardware, the speed and the size to do it. But one wonders if they have the fervour, the final one percent. Dupont can be quieted, as has been shown three times in the last half year.

It may be Ireland which has shown more heart, more adaptability, but simply may run out of cattle.

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