More brain, less brawn

The basso thump of Six Nations’ rugby begins this weekend — today Wales are at Twickenham and Italy in Dublin, and tomorrow the French collide with the Scots at Murrayfield. The reverberating crash-bang-wallop continues till the Ides of March. Turn the BBC’s sound down; rugby is now as gruntingly noisy as women’s tennis. Oh for our old springheeled game of evasion, dodging and darting. Lately, it has become one unending wince as one man-mountain simply charges pell-mell at another: Pow! Pam! Ugh! — and pot luck on murder or suicide.

England and France annually start as favourites; well, they each have by far the biggest supply of the biggest heavyweights. Nicely, however, it is Wales who come to Twickenham today as the champions. They won last year, not by much but with a mix of quickness, cheek, nerve and conviction. This time, I fancy they lack that middle quality, for they have spent much of their preparation getting in their excuses about injury and suspension. Truth is, they never enjoy London; always suburban Twickenham has daunted them or, at least, since Barry and Gareth and Gerald stopped playing. Red-bloodedly vengeful and cockily in the trim Wales might feel crossing the Severn Bridge with their hymns and bravado, but they have only to pass Reading for the fatal Celtic insecurities to begin kicking in. Mind you, it would be hugely instructive today if Wales could stay one move ahead and flit about, fast and loose, to keep England’s heavy-footed infantry on the hop. Which might force a change in the home side’s timeless tactic of muscle-over-mind powerplay, an outdated philosophy which I doubt will get England very far in defence of its World Cup next year in France. The 15-man all-court game, inventive power at a lick and as much brain as brawn, are the necessary new ingredients.