Light on ballast, devoid of balance, Saturday night was one of England’s more abject efforts since Stuart Lancaster took charge.
Memories of the third international in New Zealand last summer, flooded into the mind. England aimed to attack the All Blacks with a game predicated on pace and width. New Zealand against New Zealand’s impersonators, if you like, which until the real McCoy eased off, the contest was humiliating.
That was part of England’s wobbly evolution. From grim defence to an abundance of attacking ideas, there is an obvious progression to their style. But the mere quest for progress is no guarantee of improvement, despite the hijacking of the word “progressive” by grammatically challenged political types.
This is clearly a “progressive” team. Much they have done is fresh on the English scene. And much of it has merit. The improvement in the back play as witnessed last weekend at Twickenham and the final ten minutes in Paris are significant forward steps. So too is the forwards’ facility to shift the ball from the point of contact with those delightful deft touches so familiar to New Zealand supporters.
Yet here is where the question of balance and ballast enters the equation. Nobody is willing England to retreat to the Neanderthal state of distant days, but there’s nothing inherently wrong with the occasional caveman mentality. The evolution of a more subtle attacking framework does not mean England must desert the direct route, which the southern-hemisphere sides respect.
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But desert it they did on Saturday. Billy Vunipola is a monster of a man. In Paris, there he was, predominantly popping little passes with the situation crying out for him to carry into the heart of the enemy. Courtney Lawes is another culprit. He has a decent pair of hands and much improved running lines . . . but where was the punch, the penetration of the gainline?
The pack were like kids with new toys, vying with one another to show whose passing has most improved under the watchful eye of Mike Catt, the skills coach. What they failed to do for the best part of an hour was commit themselves to running straight at the French as France did to England. What little ball they did win in the first half was a humbling experience for the England strategists.
Wherever you looked, England sloped laterally and uncommitted French defenders perpetually outnumbered English attackers. This was not some modern smart rugby. It was stupid. There has to be the hint of a threat from the forwards to open up a metre of space for the backline. England’s pack was no threat at all.
This was one reason why George Ford endured such an ugly hour. Still limited in his international game time he is not ready to demand his forwards do the decent thing and go forward first rather than prance around impersonating giant-sized backs. This is not to especially defend the fly half who was as unconvincing for much of this game as he was sublime when the teams met in last season’s Six Nations denouement.
Missed penalties to touch, restarts rushed and out on the full, the small errors can have substantial impact. Perhaps his greatest sin was his determination to play at the same pace with which he inspired England to blow France away that memorable day. Like the team, he was naive. This time his pack was pummelled all over the park. A strategy for survival — Muhammad Ali Rope-a-dope if you wish — was required to hang in there.
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In the final quarter Ford rediscovered the deftness of that delayed pass and, in tandem with an inspired Danny Cipriani, began to crack the France defence. The architect of Ford’s late recovery was the pack who finally committed numbers to a lineout (there’s a crisis in the making) and sucked Frenchmen in. Even though half the England backs threw their shoulder to the wheel, the two magicians were able to conjure a fine try for the Sale Sharks super sub.
Nick Easter bounded off the bench. Here was — at last — ballast and balance in harmony. A strong carry here, a silky offload there, France were finally unsure whether England were coming through the middle or around the wider fringes.
Notable too was Dave Attwood’s late effort to book a place in the squad. Often criticised for his lack of game awareness and skills, it was the Bath man’s very deficiency that worked in his favour. There was nothing subtle. Every time he touched the ball he charged straight and true. An old-fashioned lock was opening the doors for the new age backs.
The Bath man is not England’s equivalent to Brodie Retallick, but he is a big, raw-boned Englishman capable of causing damage to whoever gets in his way. If he is omitted from the 31-man squad it will suggest the management have created a problem they don’t have the tools to fix.
Urgent work is required in the lineout. Dylan Hartley’s absence has left a void. It’s more a matter of recalibration in the loose, an urgent memo to English forwards. Remember your heritage. The past has a role to play if England are to have a World Cup future in 2015.