If there was a big enough hole, I would have jumped straight into it

France hadn’t torn us apart for one score, they just finished off their opportunities well. Every try came from an Irish error: a misplaced pass, a blocked down kick, a handling mistake. We were out there trying to play an expansive, constructive game and seeing plenty of the ball, but things just weren’t coming off for us.

Going back out for the second half we knew we needed to get some points on the board, but just as we were about to take the game to them, France nailed us with the first moment of genius they managed all day. Then another blockdown try. At 43-3 it would have been easy to let the heads drop. But we didn’t. We kept going. And going. That’s something to hold on to at the end of a long week.

Monday, February 6

Being a professional rugby player doesn’t make things any different — Monday is still a day to be got through. A day also for exorcising the demons of the previous Saturday. I avoided reading the papers; we’d all agreed in the changing room that nobody was going to get too much glory out of the Italian game. The mood wasn’t too bad. We just wanted to try to forget about the performance. But there’s no avoiding the video nasties.

It’s just part of the job. We had a general review before afternoon training, which went well, and later I had a one-on-one session with the continuity coach, Brian McLaughlin. Basically it’s about going through your mistakes with a fine-tooth comb, with a view to making sure they don’t reoccur. Watching your own errors grates with any player but the thing to remember is that the exercise is beneficial.

If there was one compensation, it was knowing that the French players had to go through the same exercise and it would have been much more painful for them. I watched their game against Scotland at my folks’ house and it was tremendous viewing.

Once the Scots went ahead, I was shouting at the television — Kick it! Move it! — but I had mixed feelings also. As soon as the game was over, I was thinking, that’s probably made our job a little tougher in Paris on Saturday.

Tuesday, February 7

Media day. When we come back from morning training in St Gerard’s, our hotel has already been invaded by the media pack. Stories are a little thin on the ground, thanks to the fact that Eddie has named an unchanged side for Paris, though Anthony Foley is standing by if Denis Leamy fails to come through his citing case.

There’s a sense of relief all round. I had a good feeling going into the Italy game. This is a talented group of players and we know we can perform, so it’s good to get another chance. At the same time, we’re left in no doubt that we owe a performance.

There’s not too much demand from the media for G Murphy today. The only guy who wants to chat is the reporter from L’Equipe. I dutifully talk the French up. He tells me the mood is all doom and gloom in the French camp, which I find surprising.

It doesn’t quite fit with my view of them. I’d assumed they would give the stereotypical Gallic shrug and move on. But my reporter friend says they can agonise with the best of us. Apparently, the recalled old-timers such as Olivier Magne and Raphael Ibanez have said their door is open to any of the players who lost in Edinburgh. They have experienced a few bad defeats in their time and they are happy to discuss how to get over it. Sounds as though they’re a bit rattled.

In the evening, I go to Dun Laoghaire with my roomie Shane Horgan to see Walk the Line. It’s excellent. There’s a bit of a Johnny Cash fan club at Leicester (well, a few of the lads are tickled by the lyrics to A Boy Named Sue) but I had no real idea about his life and the troubles he went through. Strongly recommended.

Wednesday, February 8

I felt for Denis today. I’d actually been standing quite close by when the incident happened and I didn’t think he had a huge case to answer but he was obviously nervous when I spoke to him. If you’re being hauled up, it doesn’t look good.

In the afternoon, a few of us had an experience that put everything — poor performances, citings included — into perspective. It was my brother, Ross, who suggested making a visit to the Children’s Hospital in Crumlin. His nine-month-old girl, Lucy, had to spend some time there with a viral problem that really took it out of her and a friend of his also has a little girl called Molly who was at the hospital for nearly a year. Thankfully she’s a lot better now, but Ross suggested we could do worse than pay a visit and say hello to the kids.

So I rounded up a few of the boys who were free in the afternoon: Paulie, Strings, Tommy Bowe, D’Arce and Simon. D’Arce popped into Lans-downe Road and picked up a few gifts such as key rings, teddies and posters we could sign. It was a great experience: sad to see children unwell but uplifting to see their reaction to us.

The hospital administrators made a big deal of our visit — the folks from Sky News turned up — and explained to us how they were delighted to raise awareness and hopefully get more support for the Crumlin Children’s Hospital Trust.

Then we split into two groups and went around the wards. I’m sure some of the patients won’t have had a clue who we were but it must have been nice to have new faces come in and make a fuss of them. Can you imagine the monotony for a young child stuck in hospital, some of them for more than a year? We got a great response and the feelgood factor was high.

There was also good news when we got back. Denis had been cleared. Apparently, one camera angle vindicated him. To improve matters further, we were given a night off prescribed grub. Myself and a few of the lads ate in the Dungeon at Killiney Castle. A good day all round.

Thursday, February 9

Travel Day. There’s a good bit of chat about the wholesale changes in the French team. We don’t know much about David Marty. We also reckon Christophe Dominici’s move to full-back may change the way they defend out wide. We have a team run and lunch at Lansdowne Road, with a freezing cold shower in between. This one isn’t scheduled. While we’re training, the alarm goes off under the West Stand and knocks out the heating. The water was icy and we screamed like girls.

Then it’s off to the airport. I have several time-killing devices on travel days but this time I am reading an article recommended by Brian Green, one of our rehab staff. It was a précis of a book called The Clash Of Civilizations, written in 1993 by Samuel Huntington. He analyses the fault line between Islam and Christianity, its origins and so on. The piece was heavy going at times but interesting and it made the trip go quicker. And now I know what a geopoliticist is. It’ s nearly 10 by the time we check in at our hotel.

Friday, February 10

A few grumpy heads on the bus to training this morning. The radio alarm mysteriously went off at 5.30 in a few rooms and some of us were treated to a German broadcast as our early wake-up call. I thought it was a dream until I heard Shane cursing in the other bed.

Sabotage? I don’t think the French would quite go to those lengths. And anyway, if they were going to do anything, they would do it on the morning of the game. We are slightly puzzled as to why we’re getting electrical shocks every time we touch something metallic in the room. Ho hum.

We’re staying at the Hilton, around the corner from the Arc de Triomphe, which we passed on our way to and from training. That’s about the extent of my cultural tour of Paris, though. I’ve been here eight or nine times but always for rugby and somehow you never get the time to see the place properly. The Leicester team had a photograph taken at the Eiffel Tower after we won the Heineken Cup here in 2001. But for some reason, there wasn’t time to go up the tower.

I’m definitely coming here for a weekend at some stage. It’s just a question of finding a non-rugby window. I’m supposed to be organising a stag weekend for Lewis Moody, who’s getting married at the end of June. I’m his best man. But you look at fixture lists and summer tours and wonder how the hell you’ll find the time.

So while I’d like to see the Louvre and Notre Dame, I go with the kickers to the Stade de France instead. I’ve never played here before so some reconnaissance is necessary. And we are here to play rugby, after all. The sightseeing can wait.

Saturday, February 11

All over now and time to reflect on what happened out there. I don’t think I’ve ever done gotten through so much running in one game. Our forwards were absolutely magnificent and given the amount of work they got through, it would be harsh for anyone to lay too much criticism at their door. The job they did, particularly in the second half, laid the platform for the rest of us to go at the French.

I know I’ll take some flak this week. You expect that when you float a pass across midfield and see it intercepted for a try beneath the sticks, but no one goes out to deliberately make mistakes like that. It was a tough moment, jogging back to my own goalline to wait for the conversion, but it’s at that moment you have to look within yourself. I promised myself the next thing I did in the game would be positive. Pack that mistake up and move on.

It took a while for all that positive thinking to pay off, but at least for the last half-hour of the second half we managed to play some rugby.

Although we ran in a few tries and showed we could play after the way the first half went, the overriding emotion is still deep disappointment.

We took some criticism after our performance against Italy last Saturday, and we’re certain to take some more after this performance, but I still feel we’re in pretty good shape after our first two games.

The work goes on tomorrow and into the week before I head back to Leicester for a game on Friday. It’s a difficult routine to adapt to, but like Monday mornings you have to roll with the ups and downs. You’ve got to keep believing in yourself.