Another trip to Twickenham, another season ticket on the low road for Scotland? Yes, in the end, but this was the most enjoyable Calcutta Cup ride for years, a decent contest rather than another lop-sided nonevent.
While a wooden spoon is now within touching distance, this will be regarded north of Hadrian’s Wall as a valiant effort and a healthier outcome than many had predicted.
Maybe it was Sir Clive Woodward who did it. His unflattering pre-match verdict in the morning paper did not leave much wriggle room. “I really do hope they make a game of it or the Mexican wave could be on us after 20 minutes,” he wrote, beneath the not-remotely-provocative headline “Scotland are so bad this rivalry is simply a myth”.
Coming from Woodward, who has never been in much danger of voting Scottish Nationalist, there is always an extra frisson. If Vern Cotter needed to give his players a final hurry-up, surely all he had to do was pin Woodward’s considered verdict to the dressing room wall?
In fairness, Sir Clive did have the stats on his side. Not a single member of England’s matchday squad was even born in 1983, when the Calcutta Cup last travelled back north after this fixture. There is history and then there is increasingly ancient legend. The bookmakers were quoting marginally shorter odds on finding the Loch Ness Monster swimming in the Serpentine.
Initially, none of it seemed to have made the slightest difference. Had England been the All Blacks, the contest would have been over inside the first quarter. Passes found grass rather than hands, England poured through gaping holes, carnage threatened. Frankly, Scotland could have had no complaints if they had been 20 points down in as many minutes.
Yet it was precisely England’s failure to find the jugular vein that revitalised Scotland. Could this possibly be their day? Finally there was a hint of the prickliness the thistle is supposed to represent. Stuart Hogg, who suggested in the buildup that England had not been showing his kinsmen sufficient respect, added further substance to his opinions and a concerted flurry yielded a try for the promising Mark Bennett and a touchline conversion from Greig Laidlaw.
Suddenly, too, the Glasgow combinations began to click, Tommy Seymour surging on to Russell’s inside ball and threatening to score a second. This time it was Mike Brown, not Hogg, who had to make a top-drawer try-saving tackle, leaving England to retreat to the dressing room to think again. Woodward, without naming names, could be heard on television muttering about people being left with egg on faces.
In all sorts of ways, though, this was welcome news. Those of us who grew up admiring the great Scots of yesteryear – the Irvines, the Browns, the Renwicks and the Rutherfords – had begun to sound like seriously old farts. Hogg, Bennett and Johnny Gray have the talent to grace this fixture for years and Laidlaw is such a consistently clever player to watch. Had Dan Cole been sent to the sin-bin, as he should have been late in the first half, things might have been even more interesting.
The final 40 minutes, though, were always going to boil down to one thing: belief. Neither side is currently overflowing with it, with England’s continuing inability to take more of their chances threatening to haunt them now the title is destined to come down to points difference.
They should have scored at least three more tries and their coaches will not be slow to point out that fact.
Scotland, though, had nothing to draw on except years of failure and hunger gets you only so far. Cotter’s men were slightly unlucky, too, when George Ford’s late penalty bounced off the upright, inadvertently leading to a try in the left corner for the sprightly Jack Nowell. For the neutral it sets things up nicely for next Saturday at Murrayfield where Ireland will be attempting to retain their title.
Could it yet be that Scotland could do England a favour and help them to the championship? We shall see. Either way, tartan self-respect has been regained and, in the absence of anything better, Scottish supporters will have to settle for that. Even Sir Clive may pick his words more carefully next time.
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