Six Nations - Ireland: The Motion Picture

In the second minute Ireland were penalised at the ruck for not rolling away. The Italian fly-half kicked at goal and missed. Then, in the fifth minute, Ireland went through multiple phases, culminating in a poor kick by the number ten, this time wearing green, which ceded possession to Italy who then reciprocated. But not to be out done, Ireland put boot to ball once more, only for Italy to then throw a forward pass. At the subsequent scrum Italy are penalised (free-kick) for an early engagement. 


Two minutes later, Sexton, on the loop, was tackled. He didn't off-load and was penalised for holding on. Botes kicked at goal and scored the first points of the game. Italy 3-0. In the ninth minute, Italy concede a penalty for crossing. Ireland opt for a kick at goal, but Sexton, who at this very moment is bleeding,  and looks like being replaced as a blood substitute by O'Gara, who is stripped and on the side line. Sexton, however, has other ideas and after dusting himself off, takes the successful kick at goal. Three points all. 


For myth makers such as I, this was a significant moment in the game. The bloodied young usurper, defiant, as the old master tests his will. But I fear word-smiths are an endangered species in the field (pun intended) of sports journalism. So too is reportage. It's not enough to call the game, to give a blow by blow account using the writer's tools to ignite the reader's imagination, no, one generally has to have seen the contest in question to understand what is on the page or screen in front of them. 


The axiom, "a picture tells a thousand words," has become prevalent in the writing of many sports stylists. But these writers often fail to interpret this, as a writer should, and paint the sort of picture that only a thousand words can. We are left to stare at the canvas, which we are assured is stunning, in the dark. Technical minutiae and hum drum statistics have replaced the heroic narrative. The role of the sports hack is that of folklorist, not of pseudo-psychologist. They may have read Homer, or at least, know of the stories, but their adaptations are less Shakespearian, more Eastenders; the soap, not the grandiose opera our imaginations deserve. 


Rugby, of course, lends itself particularly well to gladiatorial allegory. The powerful David-like physiques (prop-forwards, for shame), mixed with a (perceived) higher intellectual capacity than their footballing counterparts reminiscent of the Athenians, who, particularly in youth, weighted intellect and the physical aesthetic equally. Conflictory terms such as battle and war are used to describe rugby matches, but even in war, it is perhaps 100 years since combatants faced each other hand to hand. A contemporaneous application of the war analogy could lead one to believe that opposing teams line up in tanks while air support blanket bombs the front lines of the enemy. Penalty! Side-winder missile entered from the side! 


In Ireland v Italy: The Motion Picture, Sexton, is played by a loin-clothed Kirk Douglas type, valiant and resolute, and though the battle is as much with himself as with his enemies, we are left with the ending we wanted. More Spielberg than Kubrick. Our hero, is just that, a hero. 


On Sunday, in Paris, the odds are against Ireland. So too is history, we are told. But when I look back, it is at such moments, when fate seems determined to damn, that heroes become. Destiny, like a sculpture hewn of marble, does not merely occur, it must be shaped and willed into being. Now that would be a yarn worth spinning. 




** Read my original preview of France v Ireland, which, thanks to consistent selection from Declan Kidney, still has some value as a prelude. Ironically that article adheres more to the style which this piece antagonises.