LARRY RYAN: Ireland caught Hook, line and stinker
So too, it seems, the once indiscriminate business of punditry. We cannot know, any longer, what to expect of these people.
“I would be astonished if Cian Healy plays another game in this championship,” George Hook concluded, at the final whistle, as they briefly considered one of the few moments when Ireland put their stamp on a game England side.
“You can’t rush to judgment like that. The man is entitled to be properly judged,” ruled Tom McGurk. We would hear no more about it. From Barton to Galvin to Johnny Maher, a long line of sinners from other games must have wished for a different jury selection.
In fairness, it is a complicated time to be a rugby analyst. Last week Zebo flicked soccer onto the curriculum, yesterday the talk was post-natal and meteorological.
We’ve heard much, over the years, about Ross O’Carroll Kelly’s dawn regrets and it’s increasingly clear there is no more anxious time in a rugby man’s life than the heart-stopping morning journey from duvet to bedroom window.
“For the first time in 50 years, I woke up and wasn’t pleased to see the rain,” spluttered Hook. But pitchside, Ben Kay’s clouds weren’t lined with silver either. “It’s the first time the England players will have opened the curtains against an Irish team and said ‘oh no, it’s raining.”
Stalemate already.
Much of the remaining pre-match debate was devoted to Sadie O’Driscoll’s debut. His fellow panellists ruled George Hook out of babysitting work despite a double-edged tribute to the new dad.
“No other player, in 60 years watching the game, has been as good in his declining years.”
As is customary, George then served the pre-match confection of gloom and boom that will always afford him a way out later.
“I think it will be a hard day. But like all good Catholics, I believe. And I believe this team in green will win.”
Rain or shine, Ryle always believes. “It’s time to unleash the dogs,” he roared at kick-off. With the blue pitch dye running through their shirts, England soon had the look of marked sheep on a bleak hill.
Nugent and Lenihan bemoaned a legion of handling errors and you couldn’t help think Drico might be wise to trust none of them with Sadie.
Business as usual at half-time. Ads and a squabble. McGurk: “Ireland have done well in the scrums.” Hook: “No.”
The Ireland eight ‘manned up’ in the second half, according to Donal, but with the footballers long departed, the inquest would have to draw on other codes.
“In boxing terms, England won a pretty decisive points decision,” reflected Brent Pope, which, coincidentally, was pretty much how it worked out in rugby terms too.
Shane Horgan threw his hat in the ring too. “England are better sluggers than punchers and Ireland are better fighters than sluggers.”
On BBC, Jeremy Guscott was keen to give the white knights more credit. “Gladiators playing chess.”
Hook was busy disavowing those devout beliefs of his. “Opponents know they can boss us around. They can boss Munster, they can boss Leinster and they can boss Ireland. Ultimately, they won fairly comfortably.”
“How did they boss us?” grumbled McGurk, and the squabbling began again.
And once that started, you’d have got as much sense from young Sadie.
“Are you going to be Godfather, Shane?” McGurk left it.
“Standing by the telephone...”
At least the morning had delivered one ray of sunshine.
