Here are some names to conjure with: Serge Blanco, Denis Charvet, Philippe Sella, Didier Codorniou, Jean-Baptiste Lafond. Here are some more: Jean-Pierre Rives, Walter Spanghero, Gérard Cholley, Robert Paparemborde, Jean-Pierre Bastiat. All retired players from a distant era, perhaps, but simply writing them down is enough to make you want to rise instantly from your desk, sing La Marseillaise at full volume and launch a hunt for a live cockerel.
For those of us from the opposite side of the Channel there was never any doubt about the most breathless fixture in the old Five Nations. True, whenever England played Wales it was gloriously tribal but in the 1970s there was only one clear winner. The Calcutta Cup, all whisky breath and bony knees, used to require a Murrayfield backdrop and a Bill McLaren soundtrack for maximum effect. Irish visits to splintery old Twickenham were uproarious fun but only rarely were England in much danger of being athletically outclassed.
France, though, were something else. In many ways they were international rugby. They seemed to do everything differently, as if plugged into some alternative, super-strength – if occasionally unpredictable – energy source. At home they used a beige-looking ball with black tips, played with collars raffishly turned up and encouraged brass bands to play for the full 80 minutes. None of us had a clue what Agen, Béziers and Dax were like but they felt more exotic hotbeds than Roundhay, Moseley and Rosslyn Park. France might as well have been a team from another planet and, frequently, they played like it.
Between 1981 and 1989 Les Bleus either won or shared the Six Nations title in six years out of nine. Jean-Pierre Rives will be 65 later this year, which will depress everyone of a certain age. The 5ft 4in tall Jacques Fouroux, the “petit general”, gave hope to pint-sized featherweights everywhere. Small boys had nightmares about meeting Bastiat or Jean-Francois Imbernon in a dark alleyway and so, probably, did their adult opponents. “A match that doesn’t hurt you is a match wasted,” used to be Spanghero’s regular refrain. When England won in Paris it felt almost miraculous, as if spring light had unexpectedly flooded a long-darkened cellar. Beat France, even at home, and you could truly claim to be a top side.
Interestingly, their allure was equally strong on the other side of the world. Eddie Jones was reminiscing the other day about the France of his youth, also citing their games against England as the ones that caught his imagination. “The games I always enjoyed watching most were England v France, because you always had that contrast in style. The English were more attritional and France, in those days, used to play deep and wide. Their outside backs would run the most beautiful lines. I remember our teacher at school used to come in and rave about the French outside backs running lines. Back then everyone would run to the sidelines but they were very good at straightening the line and changing their alignments, even though they passed wide and lateral.”
And then we all grew up. The game changed, more organised defences spread out across the field and Les Bleus became just like any other colour. Even the stray cockerels fell victim of health and safety; if anything was running around headless it was generally the French back division. Aside from the odd, vivid splash of technicolour joy – the 51-0 annihilation of Wales at Wembley in 1998, the miracle match against New Zealand in the 1999 World Cup – they have spent much of the past two decades playing with frowns on their faces.
For a long time it seemed as if there might even have been some kind of law against picking a fly-half with half an ounce of composure and baton-wielding influence. Even the gifted Thomas Castaignède, on occasions, resembled a fly fisherman trapped on a deep sea trawler, surrounded by artisans rather than artistes. When they did briefly get it right it was due, in no small part, to the Yorkshireman Dave Ellis, who brought gruff Anglo-Saxon rigour to their defensive work. It worked, without ever feeling entirely au naturale.
As a result a lot of joie de vivre, for all concerned, was sucked from the Six Nations experience. France, staggeringly, have won only one title since 2007 and have become acquainted with the bottom half of the table. For a country with the world’s most financially powerful league it is little short of a disgrace, not to mention conclusive proof that hiring the world’s best players on inflated salaries to ply their trade in your domestic competition does not necessarily boost your national team.
Think about what would really galvanise world rugby in 2017. Imagine a French side faithful to its grandest traditions under the wily old Gallic fox, Guy Novès. Visualise a pack with terrifying power and a clever set of midfield backs, running the instinctively brilliant support lines that used to be their penchant.
Imagine them belting out La Marseillaise at Twickenham on Saturday week like men ready to lay down their lives for their country and determined to shove the word Brexit down Anglo-Saxon throats. The odds are against it happening but, goodness, it would be refreshing if it did.
Soul revival
No wonder Martin Anayi, chief executive of Pro12 Rugby, sounded upbeat when invited to assess his sides’ performances in Europe this season. Six Pro12 sides have made the quarter-finals across both the Champions’ Cup and Challenge Cup, quite a contrast to last year’s gloomier return. ”Our clubs produce some of the best players in Europe and our coaches have proven that you can play an attacking brand of rugby and still get the right results,” said Anayi.
But why the dramatic turnaround? Among other factors, it seems the 2015 World Cup had a bigger effect than we all imagined at the time. “We’ve had 258 internationals compete in our championship this season and a good proportion of them are current Test players because we service four national squads,” said Anayi. “In a World Cup year that obviously puts a big strain on resources but this season, because we haven’t experienced that widescale disruption, our clubs have been able to perform at their best.” With both Leinster and Munster now set to enjoy home quarter-final draws, there is also power to add.
And another thing …
Did you know 326 tries were scored in this season’s Champions Cup pool stages at an average of nearly 5.5 per game. This represents an increase of 9% on 2015-16 which, at first glance, sounds mighty encouraging. Unfortunately 49 of those were scored against the Italian side Zebre, at an average of more than eight per game, over twice as many as any other team bar Northampton. Everyone wants to support Italian rugby at a delicate time but, in terms of preserving the balance of the Champions Cup, the argument for competing clubs qualifying purely on merit grows ever louder.
