Prior to the France v Italy game, it was announced that the usual French police presence at a home international would be more than doubled from 100 to 250 with 200 additional security staff working within the grounds itself. There was likely enough military firepower within shouting distance of the ground to invade a small country and one could be certain that France were prepared for anything: fanatics with more bombs than sense opposing liberty and equality – got zis, fanatics with too much time on their hands opposing the removal of the accent circumflex– pas de problème , 23 fired up Italians with nothing to lose opposing the idea of them as perpetual underdogs – …..merde. I will put my hand up and say that I honestly thought the Italians would be stomped and at the moment, I can’t think of a time I’ve been happier to be proven wrong. The first score came from Italy and wasn’t a try or a penalty, it was a drop goal. A DROP GOAL!! Carlo Canna, the 23 year old debutante fly half for Italy who three years ago was a professional policeman, calm as anything, slots it. France seemed to then get their act together and scored a sweet try in the corner via their sevens convert, Virimi Vakatawa.
Italy refused to lie down however, and following a lineout on the French 5 metre line, their talismanic captain, Sergio Parisse scored a try at the back of a maul. The sides would go with the score standing at 10 – 8 in France’s favour and after a further try and penalty each, on 74 minutes, it was 21 – 20 in Italy’s favour and you thought they might register a famous win in the Stade Francais. Alas, a minute later Sergio Parisse incurred a dubious penalty and Jules Plisson, the French no.10 despite being told to come off, insisted on staying on and belted over an almighty 54m penalty from the side of the pitch near the halfway. Italy however came back and into overtime, they were pounding away inside the French 22, setting up the drop goal attempt and cometh the hour, cometh the man, their talisman, Sergio Parisse. There stood the no.8 in the pocket striking the ball towards the posts, their sat I thinking I should get bonus points for my no.8 getting a drop goal, there goes the ball for a fairy tale endi….oh wait, no, it’s a horrible kick and is lucky to make it over the goal line, never mind the crossbar. France win 23 – 21.
Next up was the Calcutta Cup, a fixture going back to 1879 and probably last won by Scotland some time around then. OK, that’s a cheap shot but England have won it roughly twice as much as Scotland and it has now been eight years since Scotland last held it. I use the word “held” in the purely metaphorical sense as the actual Calcutta Cup is in such a fragile state that it is kept in a display case at the HQ of whichever union wins it. Indeed several drunken players played football with it along Princes Street in Edinburgh in 1988, antics for which England No.8 Dean Richards and Scotland flanker John Jeffrey would both receive bans. Anyhow, as you might expect, both sides went at each other hammer and tongs from the off but alas for Scotland, it wasn’t long before George Kruis stepped through a missed tackle by Richie Gray to stretch over the line and put England a try in front. Two penalty kicks from Greg Laidlaw would bring Scotland to within a point and make the half-time score 7 – 6. Eleven minutes after the restart, England once again crossed over the line with Jack Nowell dotting down and though Nipples Farrell would miss the conversion, an exchange of penalties would leave the final score at 15 – 9. Unfortunately, Scotland never really looked like breaching the English line and while England did come away with the win, it wasn’t through dazzling backline moves just good ol’ fashioned bosh. Though on that point, Billy Vunipola was a deserved man of the match and always seemed to make ground even when taking the ball going backwards. I swear it would take a concrete wall to stop him at full tilt. Not much to celebrate for Scotland though and as John Inverdale did not fail to remind viewers (and a nearby seething Andy Nicol) it has now been 504 minutes since Scotland scored a try against England in Murrayfield. Seriously Andy, next time just beat him senseless on camera with a 2l bottle of Irn-Bru as I can pretty much guarantee you could successfully plead extenuating circumstances plus the majority of the public would be behind you…literally….you could sell tickets.
Finally to Lansdowne (I refuse to call it the Aviva) where Ireland kicked off their Six Nations defence against Wales. As always in these fixtures, Ireland came out of the blocks all guns blazing and by thirty minutes into the first half, Ireland were 13 – 0 up. Then, as also happens in these fixtures, Wales pulled the finger out and started to play and in ten minutes, scored ten points to leave themselves only three points adrift at half time. Following the restart, they kicked on (without Biggar who’d gone off injured early in the first half – just my fecking luck) and put themselves three points ahead through a further two penalties. Alas for Wales, in the 75th minute, they themselves conceded a penalty and allowed Johnny Sexton to draw the match at 16 – 16. Final result, an anti-climax though I personally think we (Ireland) were lucky to escape with the draw.