And so, as prophesied by Foul Play, we slew the Italians, Scots and English, while finding the French and Welsh assignments just a shade too tricky. You couldn’t possibly view the 2011 Six Nations campaign as anything other than a disappointment, but there are no shortage of reasons to be cheerful, especially in view of the breathtaking excellence of last Saturday’s display. (And the scoreline in no way reflected the full extent of Ireland’s dominance: O’Driscoll’s disallowed first-half try was a marginal call to say the least). History will record that had it not been for an illegal try in Cardiff, a late fumble deep in enemy territory and a rash of senseless penalties against the French, this would have been a Grand Slam year.

Indeed, there is no compelling reason to think that the team is weaker now than in 2009. We got a lot of luck that year: the margins are tiny, and luck plays its part. Three of Ireland’s five victories were by one score or less, the opposition tended to weigh in with crucial errors at just the right time, and we had the benefit of no significant injuries at all. This year, the breaks went against us.
This isn’t to imply that ‘we were robbed’ (though, in Cardiff, we clearly were) or that there aren’t a couple of serious issues to address (the penalty count is unacceptable, and even against England there were a few too many errors for comfort). But I think we can approach September’s World Cup in a reasonably happy frame of mind. One hopes all those hysterical doom-mongers who this time last week were penning opinion columns along the general lines of ‘KIDNEY MUST GO’ have the decency to feel ashamed.
I’m not seriously suggesting that Ireland will win the World Cup, but at 33/1, you would not be absolutely out of your mind to have a small roll of the dice. A performance equivalent to Saturday’s would certainly be good enough to live with South Africa and Australia. All known recent form suggests that New Zealand are in a different stratosphere to everyone else and are effectively unbeatable, but this has also appeared to be the case before the last five World Cups, and they have choked every single time.
Home advantage renders them more formidable than ever this time out, but this could be a double-edged sword: the pressure will be colossal, and if you actually engage any Kiwis in conversation, you may notice that they are not overflowing with confidence, having seen this movie before and never known a happy ending yet. (Well, apart from those old enough to recall the inaugural World Cup in 1987).
I will park the subject for the next few months: the Tri-Nations will tell us much more about what we’re up against, and a lot can happen between now and then. But Brian O’Driscoll, Paul O’Connell, Tommy Bowe, the entire back-row, both out-halves – these are genuinely mighty players, wise and battle-hardened after several years of frontline combat. Last weekend, not for the first time, we witnessed what they’re capable of when it all comes together. This might, just might, be the year when they write the greatest story in the annals of Irish sport, sparking World Cup fever intense enough to make Italia ’90 look mild. Cast your eye again over the players available to us, and take a deep breath. We should approach this tournament with only one goal in mind: to win the fucking thing.
Quenching the flames of hysteria for a while, now seems as good a moment as any to turn my attention to football’s Champions League, the quarter-final draw for which has just been made. My suspicion is that this time out, the English challenge is a shade weaker than in latter years. I fear the end is surely nigh for Spurs over two legs against Jose Mourinho’s Real Madrid, who are on course for a mouth-watering collision with Barcelona in the semi-final, assuming (and it’s no formality) that the Catalan conjurors can dispense with the extremely potent challenge of Shakhtar Donetsk, who I would fancy to make the final if they were in the other half of the draw. While Barca are obviously the likelier winners, outright tournament odds of 50/1 seem shockingly dismissive of the dangerous Ukrainians, who massacred Roma over two legs.
As mentioned, the other half is a good deal weaker. Though there have been signs in recent weeks that Chelsea have returned to something resembling their old selves, I confess I’m still surprised to see them listed as marginal favourites to knock out a Man United side which remains nine points ahead of them in the League. Fergie’s crew have compiled a hugely impressive record this year in terms of pure match results, without remotely coming close to playing vintage United football on a consistent basis.
I would favour United to come through here, before being outwitted by Inter Milan in the semi-finals. (Schalke’s Bundesliga record this year indicates that they cannot possibly be viewed as anything other than the weakest of the last eight contenders). Leonardo’s Nerazzuri still contain most of the team that won the whole thing last season, and look to have enough savvy about them to account for whichever English side lies in wait, though it takes a rather large leap of faith to fancy them against whoever prevails in the assumed Real-Barca showdown.
Though a mild saver on Shakhtar isn’t discouraged, I’m inclined to side with the widespread view that this season’s ultimate prize will be claimed by one of the two Primera Liga dreadnoughts. Barca are currently five points clear of Real, and certainly play the more appealing football. I didn’t see the teams’ December meeting, wherein Barca romped to a 5-0 victory described by many eyewitness observers as the best 90-minute display of football they have ever seen. I saw their recent dismissal of Arsenal and could only bow down in awe at the bewitching brilliance on display, but I also watched Real Madrid’s imperious dismissal of Lyon and reckoned it was just as impressive in its own way.
While all is clearly not well behind the scenes at the Bernabeu, and it may well be that Mourinho’s tenure does not last past this summer, I still have a feeling in my water that the Special One is well capable of, if not shackling, neutralising Barca’s innate brilliance over two legs by changing the terms of engagement and refusing to take them on at their own game (this hypothesis is strengthened by the memory of his accomplishment last year with an Inter side less talented than the one he now possesses). To put it more bluntly, I’d sooner be on Real at 9/2 than Barca at 6/5. But we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves here: let’s lap up the quarter-finals first.