Rugby Union: Time for the cold truth about French class

THE FRENCH, as we all know, have the happy knack of upsetting the most carefully stocked apple-cart. For a few hours last week they had even changed the kick-off time for Saturday's match against Scotland, until the Scottish Rugby Union and the BBC convinced them of the unholy disruption that would cause. It is, though, the sheer unpredictability of the French that Scotland will fear most.

They are only too well aware that should everything belatedly come right for the beleaguered French, then April is not the time for the Scots to be in Paris. In their three Five Nations games to date, France have got progressively worse, although it is also true that their opponents have got progressively better. Their indifferent performance and scarcely merited victory over Ireland were attributed to the cold-engine syndrome which annually afflicts French sides in the mid-winter start-up, and to rampant complacency.

There was also the growing belief that rugby in Ireland was in better shape than we had thought and that Ulster's success in the European Cup had somehow transformed mediocre players into very good ones. That view was reinforced a fortnight later at Wembley when Ireland beat Wales.

From that point on, however, it has been downhill all the way. England burst Ireland's self-inflated bubble just as comprehensively as they flattened French souffle at Twickenham. The fragile hope in French hearts that their team might make England pay for the outrage perpetrated on them by the Welsh at the Stade de France was forlorn. If there was a glimmer of fight left in them, and from their demeanour even before the kick-off it was patently obvious that they didn't have much, the stuffing was most certainly kicked out of them by Jonny Wilkinson in the first 10 minutes.

The French public and media, whose tolerance threshold in such circumstances is normally subterranean, are remarkably sanguine about the recent failures. The attitude appears to be that all will be well come the World Cup and that the present malfunction is purely temporary. That is not how many of us saw it a fortnight ago at Twickenham, where France were truly awful. While it is right to give England due credit for their contribution to the French discomfort, that is only part of the story. There was a startling lack of genuine class in the areas where a short time ago France were enviably strong, particularly in the back row and midfield. Admittedly, the French have been hit by an abnormal number of injuries in both regions, but the time was when they could cover such disruption with seamless ease.

Not only that, but the French were tactically inept against England, their attacks bereft of invention, and almost invariably launched from too far out to trouble what is surely the best defence in the championship. But it is the vapours which have overcome the pack which must be of greatest concern. Against England they were pussycats, their energies directed at breaking the law rather than the bodies and the hearts of the opposition. In contrast to the England pack, in which Martin Johnson, Lawrence Dallaglio and Tim Rodber were formidably competitive, there was not one dominant figure among the French forwards.

The announcement of the squad for Saturday's finale against Scotland is hardly designed to terrorise the opposition. Yet the Scots, who have won only once in Paris since 1969, and that at the very last gasp from a moment of magic weaved by Gregor Townsend, will be treading warily. There is always the chance for any opposition of an ignominious drubbing in Paris.

A third consecutive defeat and the French public will not be so forgiving. And brave and well organised as the Scots defence can be, it is not the offensive weapon carried by England. The French are therefore likely to enjoy more freedom on Saturday than they were allowed at Twickenham and despite the fact that Eric Peters and Scott Murray are at the very peak of their form, Tom Smith's stability in the tight will be sorely missed.

Even if they do win enough ball, there is a doubt as to whether the Scots have the finishing power which carried the Welsh so thrillingly to victory earlier in the campaign. Townsend's increasing maturity has not, mercifully, been at the expense of his maverick genius, but the player himself would surely acknowledge the debt he owes for his present form to John Leslie. For the first time Townsend has a player alongside him who is on the same wavelength and who can respond to his instinctive skills. But if Scotland's midfield are at least as good as the trio opposing them on Saturday, the quality of the support players has still to be proved at this level.

Nevertheless, Scotland can take enormous satisfaction from their present position. At the start of the series they would surely have settled for two wins and a close-run thing against the old enemy, and for a country whose domestic game is in total disarray and whose pool of international class players is perilously shallow, the prospect of winning the championship is indeed a mighty achievement.

If, on the other hand, the Scots are beaten in Paris, then whether they win or lose at Wembley the following day, England will be the Five Nations' champions, and few would deny that they are the best side in the championship.

What that tells us about the overall standard of the game in Europe at the moment is another matter and a subject for another day, but at least there are signs that the game is beginning the long and still arduous haul back from the brink.

The Anglo-French proposal, of highly suspect provenance, for the broadcasting and sponsorship rights of the European Cup which was put forward within hours of the agreement being signed in Paris last weekend, offered further proof of the need for constant vigilance by those controlling the game, but at least there appears to be a recognition that the two sides can live in harmony and, as a partnership, both can flourish.

Rugby may very well be sick and tired of the endless political manoeuvering, but that does not mean that politics is not vital to its future. Without men of the steely determination and conviction shown by Vernon Pugh, Tom Kiernan, Allan Hosie, Cliff Brittle and Fran Cotton there would now be little left of the game.