Magnificent England slam door on Ireland

By CHRIS HEWETT

ENGLAND 42 IRELAND 6

Grand Slam riches beyond the dreams of avarice, satisfaction beyond measure, a victory margin far greater than anyone had dared imagine - not a bad afternoon's work, all things considered.

If Martin Johnson, the undisputed ruler of rugby's global jungle, never plays another Six Nations' match for his country - more probability than possibility, if the great captain's nods and winks have not been misinterpreted - he will look back on this magisterial red rose performance, the most complete for well over a decade, with intense pleasure.

Who knows? He might even manage a smile.

England wrapped up their third championship title in four years with a demolition job so comprehensive that it left the whole of Irish rugby, in excellent condition before the match, contemplating another period of reconstruction.

Far more importantly from the perspective of Johnson and company, they finally cracked the puzzle that had so notoriously left them clueless at Wembley in 1999, Murrayfield in 2000 and, 18 months ago, here on this very same patch of grass.

Suddenly, this autumn's World Cup cannot arrive quickly enough.

Clive Woodward, the England head coach, admitted afterwards that a fourth foul-up on Grand Slam day would have driven him to something approaching despair.

"I was genuinely pleased that Ireland had also won all their games, that we had the chance to be the first team in history to win one of these winner-take-all matches away from home.

I wanted that pressure, and I piled it on the players.

I told them: 'You've got one shot at this and if you muck it up, it's going to be a very long year for us all.

' Now, we can head for the World Cup and some real 'no tomorrow' games knowing we can deal with it.

"A 36-point victory smacks of the anti-climactic, but England had to bring everything they owned to the party and were in pieces at the end.

God, it was hard.

Jonny Wilkinson, a tough hombre if ever there was one, took a fearful smack in the face and barely finished the contest; Mike Tindall repeatedly found himself on the uncomfortable end of Ireland's adrenalin-soaked vigour; Richard Hill limped his way through much of the second half; Matt Dawson, Graham Rowntree and Ben Kay all spent time in the blood-bin.

Yet amid the fire and physicality, the visitors dominated their opponents psychologically with a display of consummate discipline.

The theory went something like this: if Ireland, blessed with a couple of game-breakers in Brian O'Driscoll and Geordan Murphy, were still in touch after 60 minutes, England would suffer another of their regular emotional crises.

The home side fell 27 seconds short.

In the 59th minute of a match the visitors were now dominating with the help of a breeze sufficiently strong to have encouraged David Humphreys, the Ulster stand-off, to attempt an early penalty from fully 60 metres, quality work from Johnson's forwards and a characteristically intelligent pass from Will Greenwood sent Tindall galloping away for a try that effectively decided the Grand Slam decider.

From that point on, the Irish were broken in spirit.

Greenwood claimed two tries of his own in the final quarter; the first with the muscular aid of his pack, the second with the unwitting help of the unfortunate Murphy, who, as Ireland's outstanding performer, did not deserve the ignominy of seeing his inside pass intercepted by the gangling Harlequin.

Ireland knew they were in bad-dreamland when Jason Leonard, 102 caps old and no-one's idea of a creative maestro, milked a two-man overlap with all the aplomb of a Gibson or a Dawes and manufactured a coffin-nailing score for Dan Luger.

Any resemblance to the magnificent game of rugby that unfolded in the first half was now impossible to detect.

The hosts had taken the field in forthright fashion, neglecting to run around the military band and running straight through them instead.

But it was England, and Johnson in particular, who made the early statement that really mattered.

Having entered stage right, they were damned if they were going to move 10 metres to the left of half-way, just to please the Irish presidential entourage.

Johnson, in what can only be described as one of his "sod off" moods, refused to give an inch, and continued not to give an inch until the final whistle.

Ireland had their moments with the wind at their backs, generally when the ball found its way to Murphy.

The Leicester full-back ran England ragged at times, and if some of his decision-making was less than perfect, it was compelling to watch a wonderfully inventive player stretching himself to breaking point.

Yet even when the Irish were at their most threatening, the important scoring was being done by their opponents.

The first-half yielded a sucker-punch try by Lawrence Dallaglio and two right-footed drop goals from the left-footed Wilkinson.

By the break, Ireland had only six points from the boot to show for their considerable efforts.

If Dallaglio was the top-of-the-bill act by some distance, it became clearer by the minute that the Irish could not handle Johnson, Hill or Steve Thompson, either.

All four Englishmen would find their way into a World XV, and they played right up to their respective limits.

The question now is whether England can find their way into a World Cup final in Sydney in November.

"Why not?" asked Woodward.

Why not, indeed?

- INDEPENDENT