The great motivator has given his last pep talk

If Angelo Dundee had done his work on a Munster championship sideline rather than in a fight corner, there would have been a Dry Ball Final every year.

Or if he had hunched, plotting, in a baseball dugout, the odd corked bat may have found its way onto home plate. But maybe he’d have drawn the line at a Harlequins bloodbath. Because Dundee wasn’t a cheat. He just, occasionally, got creative.

An undone shoelace here, a ripped glove there. Maybe a loosened rope. Mere splashes of light grey in a world with its own murky morality.