Ireland’s glass ceiling remains unbroken.
Joe Schmidt was at pains not to use the injury count as an excuse. Even though it’s a valid one. “We’ve sustained injuries before but if you picked out five guys you couldn’t have picked out five much worse ones from a leadership and experience perspective.
“We lost 250-odd caps in the space of 80 minutes last week.”
A wonderful Argentina performance got just reward but this was not the Ireland everyone had grown to love.
Jamie Heaslip sought to carry like Seán O’Brien and while the new Ireland captain was admirable and often, O’Brien he will never be.
Nor are Chris Henry and Jordi Murphy anywhere near the forces of nature near opposition ball that O’Brien and Peter O’Mahony are. Iain Henderson was needed on the flank, not trying to become Paul O’Connell. Because no man born on this island has shown O’Connell’s level of endeavour and physical effectiveness. “That’s the nature of the game, it is attritional,” said Schmidt.
Invitation
That and Johnny Sexton’s groin strain cost Ireland from accepting history’s invitation into Twickenham’s elite rooms. “I’m incredibly proud the way those guys stepped up,” said the coach.
“When you have what you have you do what you do and those guys did what did with a hell of a lot of character.”
Juan Martín Hernández went looking for Ian Madigan with bombs reminiscent of the great man's 2007 heyday. He caught the first but the second was gobbled up by Joaquín Tuculet and all of a sudden we were transported back to Parc Des Princes.
Argentina poured over the levee. Pablo Matera, the brutal blindside, found Madigan and battered through him. Usually there would be an O'Brien or O'Mahony to compensate. Murphy and Henry were otherwise disposed, scrambling like fire fighters as the wooden house blazed.
Juan Martín Fernández Lobbe flung a lovely skip pass wide to Santiago Cordero who put Matias Moroni over.
A blip, as the IRFU are wont to think, or a hard dose of reality?
On 13 minutes it was 17-0. “That dented the confidence of our group,” Schmidt continued. “You know, some of whom certainly weren’t overawed by the occasion but did make it difficult...”
If they weren’t overawed they weren’t good enough.
Then came a streak of light. Ramiro Herrera took 10 minutes for shoulder charging Keith Earls. Ten Irish points followed. The machine whirring again. Madigan sparked to life with a quick tap and dive for the try line. No try. Jérôme Garcès was talking to Argentina scrumhalf Martin Landajo.
“You never stopped the clock!” Madigan remonstrated.
He nailed the penalty. 3-17. Hope grew when Robbie Henshaw said, be damned, and spread a pass wide to Luke Fitzgerald – in for a lame Tommy Bowe – who opened his wings and soared, landing under the posts.
The game became as close as it could be when another clean line break by a ducking Fitzgerald allowed his Blackrock pal, Murphy, gallop under the posts. But these Pumas refused to fade. Amidst it all Herrera should have walked. Garcès went to TMO George Ayoub. It looked like a head charge into the ruck.
Abdicate
“I need to be 100 per cent sure,” said Garcès, who seemed keen to abdicate responsibility for the decision.
Ayoub: “He definitely led with his...” Garcès had heard enough. Just a penalty.
Madigan’s miss in the 60th minute was quickly followed by a Sánchez penalty and a horrifying 20-26 scoreboard for Irish eyes to shun.
The end came via Ayoub’s replay when Tuculet squeezed past Earls in the left corner. Imhoff dazzled with an even later try.
Argentina deservedly get to invade Twickenham next Sunday. Ireland, beaten by the enormous toll inflicted while seeing off France, beaten by their own bodies, by bigger specimens from southern lands and by fate’s decree.
