A blessing in disguise

England's defeat to Ireland ended talks of a Grand Slam, but the result just might be a blessing in disguise, says Stuart Barnes in The Sunday Times.

This defeat must be a turning point for England. Had they held on to the most tentative of leads established with Jonny Wilkinson’s late drop-goal, this would have been another muddling performance with the only exceptional element being the spin that would have ensued with continued talk of the Grand Slam.

Such an outcome would have guaranteed more conservatism from the deeply unimaginative Martin Johnson. Critics would have been told to look at the results, as if three poor displays in what is a second-rate tournament, excluding France, proved anything other than England are content to be second-tier nearly-men. That will not do but you can be sure it is what would have been happened had England held on and won this scrap.

English supporters should send Ireland wing Tommy Bowe a national vote of thanks for his two tries. The blinkers can come off now. There is no fallback position based on results against mediocre opposition.

For all the honest perspiration of Johnson’s England, this team still lack the chutzpah to build on their committed togetherness and reach for something special.

This aversion to risk is part of the England team manager’s DNA; he cannot change the way he is, but he can at least look in a mirror and see that the surplus Johnson spirit lacks a counterpoint to present England with the balance to develop as a team, not just nick another win.

This defeat is an opportunity for Johnson. It remains to be seen, though, whether he has the courage to take it.

Meanwhile, Patrick Collins in the Mail on Sunday believes Ireland's victory was hard fought.

When the battle reached its thunderous conclusion, victory wore a green shirt, Irish faces wore smiles of delighted relief and Tommy Bowe wore the look of one who suspects life may never be as sweet as this again.

When fate was seeking a hero in the final minutes of a memorable contest, the man from Co Monaghan raised his hand. Already he had scored the try which set Ireland on her way, now he took his shot at immortality.

The choreography was wondrously simple; Paul O’Connell soared to scoop a lineout ball, scrum-half Tomas O’Leary took it on the peel and Bowe arrived at the clatter; raw-boned, aggressive, running a devastating angle. He launched himself at the gap between the English back-row cover and the outside half and within half-a-dozen strides he was through.

It required speed, strength and shrewd awareness but Bowe is a footballer with an abundance of gifts. He could hear the English groans, savour the sagging English shoulders long before he reached the line.

In fact, Ireland had won by the skin of their teeth, Bowe’s belated success barely holding off a ferocious English effort. Johnson has led this team long enough to know victory cannot be taken as read until the Sunday papers turn up. Yet when Wilkinson swung his right foot at a steepling drop-goal with nine minutes left, the manager must have believed that all would be well, that an honest afternoon’s work had reaped the reward it may well have deserved.

With four minutes left, his plans were wrecked, his dreams destroyed. Johnson’s default expression is one of baffled irascibility. He rebels against the impotence of the touchline and the enforced diplomacy of the post-match interview. He begins explanations, then abandons them when they smack of complaint.

For all his protestations, he knows he has players who do not understand his own standards of commitment and performance. He is frustrated by his plight but refuses to admit his frustration. A different man might evoke our sympathy; Johnson would tell us where to put it.

Yesterday must have been especially difficult to bear. In this outstanding Six Nations game, England played with some of the fire and much of the intelligent organisation for which he has long pleaded. Had their finishing matched their fury, the outcome might well have been different.