KEY POINTS:
PARIS: Last week's hammering of France by the All Blacks was a pathetic illustration of how the game here has been cleaned up and yet neutered at the same time.
Legions of tough, hardened Frenchmen of yesteryear who regularly practised violence against opponents to uphold local pride and honour must have turned in their graves.
Even in the early 1990s, the French lived up to their age-old billing when it came to fighting physical battles on the rugby field. Indeed, the whole history of the sport here is littered with tales of physical assaults, brutal matches and a fusillade of fists.
In the 1970s, when France and Wales ruled the roost in northern hemisphere rugby, the French had a formidable pack that packed an almighty punch. Literally.
Former tight head Gerard Cholley had been a boxer before turning to rugby and his pugilistic skills were often enjoyed by a baying crowd.
Then there was Beziers lock Michel Palmie, who was convicted in a civil court of blinding an opponent in one eye during a club match. Indeed, games against Beziers in that era were more like wars.
As late as 1992, when England went to Paris in the Five Nations' Championship, the French completely lost the plot in a flurry of violence. That day, as England beat them 31-13, front-rowers Gregoire Lascube and Vincent Moscato were sent off.
A French club final around that time between Agen and Racing was so violent you felt bruised just watching from the stands. France's assistant coach then, Jean Trillo, called it "the French disease".
Cleaning up the game here was a lengthy process but one that was ultimately completed with merciless efficiency by current coach Bernard Laporte. Players thought likely to transgress were quietly dropped and never again selected.
This sent out all the right messages but there was just one problem - it destroyed the soul, the inner core of the French game. It was like neutering a cat; it didn't cause any more problems but it cut out all the excitement.
Thus, the great characters, the men who played hard on and off the field, gradually disappeared from French rugby. Professionalism hastened the process. The effect was seen in Lyon last weekend, in a performance that scandalised all France and Les Bleus coach, the same Bernard Laporte. Here, surely, is a man who likes to have his cake and eat it, too.
Laporte said yesterday: "We realised the team was completely paralysed after the first try and after Rokocoko's tackle on Dominici. I had the impression the players told themselves they would no longer go for the ball because the same thing would happen to them. It was a catastrophe.
"I saw Dominici go into a ruck as though he wanted to escape the backline. It was completely surreal.
"I have seen the video tape of the last New Zealand-South Africa game and 12 Springboks didn't run, they were walking at one point. It was the same illness we had. They were looking at the All Blacks because they were afraid of them. It was the same for us."
Plenty of French sides have succumbed in the past but few without a physical fight. That at least showed they cared, their pride remained even in adversity. But this squeaky-clean, antiseptic lot simply turned away.
By that act, they stained the great fighting name of French rugby. And who can expect it to be much different tomorrow in Paris?
* Peter Bills is a rugby writer with Independent News & Media in London
