CADDIE'S ROLE:I will draw on Leinster's astonishing comeback as a motivational jolt for my player when he is flagging in the future

I AM trying to remember the last greatest sporting comeback in recent times and I am really struggling to come up with one better, more professional or dogged than the one I watched in the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff last Saturday.

I suppose Manchester Uniteds dramatic injury-time goals against Bayern Munich in the European Cup Final in 1999 spring to mind as an unfaltering will to win even though they were effectively down and out of time. The psychology of such an occasion is intriguing. The “miracle”, as it is referred to in Anfield, in Istanbul in 2005 when Liverpool scored three goals in the space of six minutes in the second half having trailed AC Milan by three was also an outstanding act of resilience.

Nick Faldo’s victory in the 1996 Masters against the seemingly invincible Greg Norman was a dramatic victory in what should have been a Sunday stroll for the Great White Shark. Although many would argue it was Norman’s capitulation that lost the Green Jacket rather than Nick’s persistence.

Either way you have to have a presence of mind to keep competing against what would appear as an insurmountable force. This is exactly what Northampton looked like after 40 minutes of play last Saturday.

I was thinking to myself in a muted pub near home that if I was Leinster I wouldn’t bother coming back out for the second half. They were trailing by 16 points, but more significantly, playing badly. I was thinking of sloping back home myself rather than watch the cricket score that Northampton might amass against them in the next half.

A good conversion attempt by Stephen Myler rebounded straight back off the post just before half-time which transpired to be the end of the surge of points for Northampton. Who knows how significant that was? But of course the subconscious effect of a greater deficit is harder to assess.

From a big screen in a boozer perspective back in Dublin, there were poignant camera shots that acted to either inspire or deflate.

The green-clad supporters of Northampton’s faces beaming out of the screen across the pub floor silenced our crowded local to a morbid murmur of discontent and disconsolation. They looked particularly smug in their advanced position.

We were just being patriotic with a few pints in front of us on a Saturday evening amongst friends. What was the effect I wonder of such buoyant domination at the Millennium Stadium with its roof closed and nowhere for the jubilant opposition’s celebrations to escape other than into the ear drums of the glum Leinster fans.

How did that feel on the pitch? Without understanding the finer strategy of the modern game of rugby, it was obvious that the opposition’s first-half surge had rocked Leinster. They lost confidence and, naturally, you don’t play very well when you have no confidence.

Their only saviour was a motivational speech at half-time. A reaffirmation of their skill, dedication and fortitude that they obviously possess in abundance, otherwise they wouldn’t be worthy of a place in the final of the Heineken Cup.

I really would be fascinated to find out just what Joe Schmidt said to his team as they slumped in the dressingroom beneath the heaving Welsh stadium at just before 6 o’clock on Saturday evening? How could a coach drag his team out of the abyss from such a points and moral deficit.

The half-time orator, who turned out to be the man-of-the-match Jonathan Sexton, touched his team-mates’ nerves. Leinster came out in the second half like men possessed. With a mixture of dexterity and doggedness they gradually chipped away at the huge first-half deficit.

As they scored tries and Johnny Sexton converted points with his driving place-kicking, the smiles were gradually drained from the gloating Saints fans’ faces. What a difference a break makes. What had the boss said to them? Was it an inspirational rant or an arm around the collective shoulder? I am intrigued.

As ever in sport there is a huge element of fortune involved no matter how talented you are. You need the breaks, particularly under pressure. It was as if the rugby gods rewarded the Leinster resolve with a fortuitous bounce enabling a try and perhaps a favourable referee’s decision setting up another.

Luck, as it may seem on the surface, is not as simple as that.

Great players make their luck change. I have mentioned Seve Ballesteros believing that he could change the course of a putt he hit with the power of his mind. I assume great teams can change the course of a game with the collective mental power of the team.

To a novice rugby fan it certainly appeared to be what happened on Saturday evening last.

It was truly inspirational, it was exciting and uplifting to watch a team drag themselves out of the mire of what must have been the most disappointing first half of rugby they have played ever – let alone on such a big occasion in such a big arena.

I want to know what was said, I would love to know what empowered Leinster to use their talent to change their fortune. It is of course what separates the good from the great, those big rugby bodies need even bigger minds.

I am pretty sure my golfer, Edoardo Molinari, was practising his chipping at home in Torino last Saturday as Leinster were romping home to victory from a seemingly insurmountable situation.

I am sure I will draw on Leinster snatching victory from the jaws of defeat in Cardiff as a motivational jolt for my player when he is flagging some time in the future on the golf course. As long as you have belief you can make it happen.

Leinster v Northampton, Heineken Cup final 2011, Millennium Stadium, Saturday, May 21st, is one of the greatest comebacks I have witnessed.

I feel privileged to have watched it and will always be inspired by it.