Pressure is not the preserve of sport, it’s universal in life. The feeling that threatens to overwhelm a player in a game-defining moment can be as suffocating for an individual as those moments before embarking on a difficult conversation at home or a tough decision at work.
We all prepare as best we can. We rehearse the options, map out the scenarios, convince ourselves we’ve covered every angle and imagine we’re somehow insulating ourselves against what comes next. But here’s a truth we rarely admit, on the pitch or anywhere else: even the right decision cannot guarantee the right outcome.
Athletes experience pressure in a very public forum, but that gut-check is felt by everyone at some point in their lives. You can think clearly, do everything by the book, make the smartest call available, yet still watch events twist in a direction you never expected or wanted.
The great American basketball coach Pat Riley once said: “You have no control over the outcome. You have control over the effort.” Sometimes the hardest skill, harder than any technical tweak or tactical shift, is accepting an outcome without letting it contaminate everything else.
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In rugby terms, it’s about not allowing one part of your game, one bounce of a ball, to undo all the good work. That was where things went wrong for Ireland against South Africa.
They were well beaten in one crucial element of the contest but compounded that with self-inflicted damage. They should have been buried alive on the scoreboard. But the ability to tough it out despite suffering under pressure, to come within a couple of millimetres of making it a one-score game with five minutes to go, tells you about the character in the group.
A dominant Springboks scrum forced penalties and yellow cards, but the other three Irish sin bins were avoidable. A line can be drawn directly from Ireland’s scrum woes to the departure of secondrow James Ryan on a yellow and then 20-minute red card. Without him, a genuine tighthead lock, the structural integrity of the scrum crumbled.
On their own put-in, Ireland chased quick, channel-one ball: in and away. On the South African feed, they simply couldn’t compete. The tight-five power differential left Ireland navigating a series of grim decisions: walk backwards and concede metres, collapse and concede penalties, hinge and hope for a reset?
None of the options were pretty, and all came with consequences. Andrew Porter and Paddy McCarthy took the punishment in card terms.
I felt Ryan understood that if Ireland were going to be squeezed at the scrum it became imperative to protect quick ruck ball, the heartbeat of their game plan. That requires a level of physicality and accuracy that is incredibly hard to sustain against South Africa.
Ryan’s clean-out had the right intent but reflected Ireland’s wider issue on the day – poor execution under pressure. He took a risk, and he paid for it. The Springboks contested aggressively at the breakdown.
He wanted to send a message, but his timing was off. The intent was right, but before he even made contact the shape of his body meant he was in trouble. Once he left his feet, the outcome was inevitable.
Irish supporters will have noted the discrepancy between two in-game incidents. Ryan’s clean-out was upgraded to red on the basis that he was “always illegal”, despite minimal contact with Malcolm Marx. Earlier, Sacha Feinberg-Mngomezulu, also “always illegal”, made forceful contact with Tommy O’Brien’s head and escaped with only a penalty.
There is no guarantee that even if the South African outhalf had been sanctioned that Ireland would have won the match given how well the Boks have managed when short-handed in previous victories. As a player, you crave consistency in refereeing. You can accept harsh outcomes but inconsistency in application of the laws within the one game melts the mind.
The greater frustration is that Ryan’s action wasn’t necessary. Tadhg Beirne showed his rugby smarts in reading the tempo of the ruck, timing his run and punishing a South African defensive line that had advanced illegally before Jamison Gibson-Park had even picked up the ball. Beirne accelerated into a fractured defence and finished like the modern hybrid forward he has become, equal parts lock, flanker and playmaker.
Until that moment, Ireland were slowly turning the tide. South Africa had scored early despite Ireland’s promising start to the match but had struggled to build on that. The home side were gaining incremental wins in the aerial battle, possession and territory. The one area in which they struggled was the scoreboard. That’s why Beirne’s try felt like a pressure valve releasing, until it was disallowed.
Test matches against South Africa rarely unfold gently. Once the Springboks re-established control of possession, territory and the scrum, the match began to tilt back their way. Sam Prendergast’s yellow card and Cobus Reinach’s try were the natural consequence of momentum turning into pressure.
To Ireland’s immense credit, their own try before half-time reignited belief. It was a superb passage of rugby: Ryan Baird’s one-handed take, powerful carries, quick rucks, sharp running lines, with Gibson-Park pulling the strings. It offered a glimpse of what Ireland can do even under duress.
A sequence of cards that reduced Ireland to 14, then 13, then at one point 12 players, took a toll against the best side in the world not just in the scrum but in decision-making, carrying, running lines, accuracy and simply having the energy to build phases.
Ireland continually won turnovers only to hand possession back through pressure-relieving kicks. Attack became an act of survival rather than ambition. And yet, this match reinforced everything admirable about Irish rugby, with passion and resilience as key virtues. Most teams, and I include sides I played in, would have turned a three-man advantage into a decisive margin. South Africa didn’t. That speaks volumes.
But it also highlighted a long-term issue in Ireland’s squad depth. There are insufficient numbers breaking into senior rugby quickly enough to challenge established starters. New Zealand, South Africa, France and England all operate from deeper pools. That is the limitation of our system.
The encouraging sign is that David Humphreys and Andy Farrell are not burying their heads. The recent summer tour across Europe, the fixture against Spain, the international against England A and two tours next summer, all point towards a deliberate effort to test the next player tier without jeopardising senior results.
So, was this November successful? We won’t know until after the Six Nations. In 2013, we won one from three in November and lifted a championship trophy months later as our attack and defence evolved.
In 2018, we won four from four and then unravelled in the Six Nations as defences began to decode our shape. The November series does not tell the full story of the season or even this team, it gives a snapshot of where we stand. Growth in performance and a broader base will not just allow us to deal with the pressure that the Six Nations will bring, they will also help us evolve. The results will follow.
