Now there are Six

Six Nations rugby musters for its last convulsive heaves this weekend and next. Today (10 March) in Edinburgh, the appealing Irish XV should confirm their latest Triple Crown, while victory at Twickenham tomorrow will, to all intents, settle yet another championship for France. Both their matches next Saturday, respectively against Italy and Scotland, should each assume the nature of an emperor’s victory parade. It has panned out roughly as expected — except, bejaysus and godammit, it could so easily have been Ireland going to Rome next week to be anointed with its first Grand Slam in more than half a century if only one of the blithering eejit-heroes had called for, collected, and conclusively kicked the bladder high into the grandstand rafters with the French seemingly beaten on 11 February. Instead, with just a minute left on the clock, the fellows in green fretted and fannied in a dither around the innocently bouncing ball and so gifted that game to France. For want of that one clean catch and hooraying hoof a whole generation of Irish rugby men are going to spend a lifetime kicking themselves. Their only satisfactory act of contrition would be to win the World Cup itself in October.

Italy’s manner and muscle in the past few weeks has provided a hearty bonus for the tournament; now there really are Six. Italy even start favourites to beat Wales in Rome today. Of Wales, Scotland and England, it is difficult to say which has been more disappointingly inept so far.

I would have enjoyed hearing John Reason on the decline and fall of the England XV. Alas, he died, at 77, last month. If the Daily Telegraph obituary page did him proud, I missed it; if it didn’t, for shame.