Blessed. That's what Irish rugby fans have been in the past few years. Blessed to have had such spiritual leaders and party-makers who make a mockery of all logic, reasonable punditry and prediction. Played by so few at senior level in this country, it seemed impossible that any province would have had any chance of winning the Heineken Cup when it was inaugurated in 1995. But possible it has been on three occasions, and finally a definite when 19 brave Munster men (18 + crowd as extra player) went to Cardiff adamant in their heads that anything short of success would have had nay-sayers repeating the old chestnut that Irish teams lack killer instinct.

I have to admit that I was a Hookite in my fears before the match. Not fully convinced that I could boast about being a Munster man after the 80 minutes, my thoughts were dogged by a Neil Francis-like negativity that would not have abated even if Mary Harney had taped her ears and performed stretches on the sideline. Let's pause to reflect on Mary Harney at tight head ..... Enough! Her efforts are urgently required elsewhere at the moment.

Jingle-jangle, jingle-jangle went the nerves in the last quarter of the match. Ryle Nugent, the bollocks, filliped my negativity when he announced that it looked "ominous". How dare he jeopardise the mood? In Fact, Ah was surround by anything up to 15,000 fans in Limerick city who really didn't need to hear that. But will being will, we should have known there was never going to be any denying the Reds who were fuelled by prayers, shouts of "Heave!", and the gnashing of finger nails around the globe.

The Munster forwards' effulgent performance in the first half changed the landscape of the match dramatically. Records will show that Munster do better with the opposition at the submissive end of a lead. And but for a incorrect decision to award a try to Bibade in the third minute, that lead would have been even greater. In the scrum and lineout, Munster were untouchable. O'Gara was finding the line with great accuracy. Leamy, O'Callaghan and O'Connell were creating a fantastic platform. Halstead refocused minds with his try in the 16th minute. Little Stringer skirted the scrum and ran down the bizarrely deserted piece of turf that should have been occupied by Bobo to score a try that required Munster fans to have a two-second rethink of what just happened. Did he really just do that?

All things considered, Munster were happy at half time.

But the left boot of Yachvili was always going to cut Munster nails back another 3/8s of an inch in the second half. He mercilessly kicked Biarritz to within one point of Munster. That's when that bollocks Nugent piped up. We're all thinking it, but please don't verbalise it Ryle. Luckily for the cardiac unit in the Regional Hospital, O'Gara kicked one last penalty that meant it was going to take more than a drop goal or penalty for Biarritz to snatch it. The Munster line did not look like it was going to be breached since Kelly was handed off for the Biarritz try.

At the final whistle, those All Black players of '78 breathed a sigh of relief. Now we can raise a generation of young Munster fans who are dedicated to emulating a definable achievement in the form of a trophy and not a labelless success as was achieved over New Zealand. In Fact, Ah got to speculating after the match that this is probably the greatest success for any Irish team playing on a professional, European/world stage. Then again, it was a day when even hyperbole didn't suffice.

tags:munster

Published by Colm.