Sports Writers - Vincent Hogan

cson

Without a doubt the best sports writer going at this moment in time. He combines knowledge with an eloquence of language that is unrivalled at this moment in time, certainly in Irish print media circles and from the little I've read of English print media.

Check out this today in the Indo;

Vincent Hogan wrote:

Marcus Horan pushed two clenched fists towards the slate-grey Heavens, then hurriedly withdrew them.


He was like a man caught reaching towards the adult magazines in a newsagent's. Perhaps he blushed, it was impossible to tell. Evening had long since wrapped Croke Park in a blurry gloom, the troubled floodlights radiating little more than candle wattage.

Horan's gesture was like an involuntary muscle spasm that fled his body as quickly as it had entered. Who could blame him? The Irish players quickly gathered themselves for rugby's polite formalities. They formed a chute for the Italians, tousling their opponents' hair, patting their cheeks, mouthing empty consolations.

The atmosphere was triumphal as a council house eviction.

Hysterical

Ireland's display had been fevered and uneven against opponents who were doughty and well organised. Eddie O'Sullivan knew the reaction would be hysterical and maybe his candour afterwards went some way towards stifling the appetite for a lynching.

But the undercurrents will bubble away this week and, in Paris next Saturday, this Irish team needs desperately to nail a coherent performance.

They fidgeted on the edge of one at times on Saturday, specifically in the spell immediately after Girvan Dempsey's 17th minute try. Eoin Reddan broke beautifully down the Cusack Stand side only to have his inside pass to Andrew Trimble snaffled by Pietro Travagli.

To the naked eye, it looked as if Trimble had simply offered too vague a target. But, on replay, the Ulster winger could be seen crumpling under a lassooing tackle from Andrea Masi just as Reddan off-loaded. It should have been an Irish penalty. It wasn't.

Minutes later, Italian lock - Santiago Dellape -- was sin-binned and prop, Andrea Lo Cicero, should have accompanied him, having clearly pushed his head into Simon Easterby's face. Italy were close to meltdown.

Another Irish try then would, almost certainly, have set the scoreboard digits spinning towards a comfortable victory. But that try never came and a palpable chill began to burrow into the bone.

The Italians may not give you goosebumps with their rugby, but they know how to defend and, maybe more pertinently, how to hurt. Their tackle completion was an impressive 94pc on Saturday, but the official SAS statistics don't make any distinction between those that were legal and those that weren't.

To be fair, neither did Mr Kaplan.

Still, it would be churlish to overlook the sheer order of their defence or the force of their obstinacy. No one epitomised either quality more than the remarkable open-side, Mauro Bergamasco, whose tackle count of sixteen was exactly twice that of the next most prolific hit-man, Sergio Parisse.

Bergamasco's signature hit was a devastating shunt into the back of Brian O'Driscoll on the cusp of half-time, a collision that spooned the Irish captain off his feet like a piece of lint being flicked off a tie.

With their confidence bleeding away, that kind of physicality had begun to examine the lining of Irish stomachs. But the lining held. On a day of fragile comforts, that -- at least -- was something.

Bergamasco reckoned this to have been a more authentic contest than the pre-World Cup grind at Ravenhill that had left them feeling mugged. "This was better" he sighed, still in his playing-gear, leaning by the dressing-room door. "I don't know why. You can ask the same question of the Italian team from the last Six Nations tournament and the World Cup. Different moments, different minds, different preparation. But I think this is better than our last game in Ireland. We will see in our next games."

Asked if he felt that Italy could actually have won on their first visit to Croker, he equivocated.

"I feel that we can do something more" said Bergamasco. "Maybe we could score something more. We made too much errors in our midfield, so we gave the chance to have three points every time. This is not good. It is something we can talk on tonight.

"I think we can do something more but I know we have not a lot of time to prepare a new game so... I'm not happy because we lost. But I'm confident for the future."

And Ireland? A team with threadbare confidence perhaps?

Pressure

"I don't know" he shrugged. "I think they got a lot of pressure from the Italian team and they weren't expecting it. Maybe, sometimes, their confidence can go down just a little bit because you're not expecting the other team to do something like that."

Nice theory but, whatever emotions befell Ireland on Saturday, surprise was hardly among them.

Italy have long ceased to be easy targets in the Six Nations and, having taken the scalps of Scotland and Wales last term, it will be a surprise if they don't add another couple before the season's end. England play them in the little cathedral of Flaminio next Sunday and, after their weekend loss to Wales, it is hardly an assignment Brian Ashton's boys will be approaching blithely.

Contrary to stereotype, O'Sullivan did not skrimp on replacements last Saturday, having four on the paddock with more than 20 minutes still remaining. Of those, Rob Kearney and Bernard Jackman best looked the part. With Gordon D'Arcy's season over, Kearney will probably start in Paris, though Tommy Bowe can hardly be discounted.

Jackman? If worries about his lineout throwing are the primary impediment to the Leinster hooker's selection, what were we to make of Rory Best's spilled darts on Saturday? This team needs few things more urgently just now than energy. And, in that context, Best, Malcolm O'Kelly and Easterby are vulnerable.

Ireland leaned heavily on Ronan O'Gara to survive Italy's fury and, not for the first time, he was equal to the challenge.

But the team is running on low confidence and, for all their opponents' creative limitations, the threat of a calamitous defeat hung upon the stadium like a shimmering heat haze to the end. Italy scored one try, yet never quite threatened a second.

It made for a grim, neurotic finish, Italy piling forward with knees up, heads down, an army charging forth without a plan. And Ireland? They looked a group just counting the seconds, running down the clock.

A team with nothing to celebrate but survival.

bogmanfan

Can't stand him. He thinks he's a poet trapped in a sports writer's body. I find his stuff turgid, florid and wildly over-cooked. Still, I know plenty of fans of his...

Dublin's Finest

I think Tom Humphrey's Locker room column for the Irish Times has consistently been the best example of sports journalism for a while now.

jdivision

I don't like his stuff at all.

FlutterinBantam

bogmanfan wrote: »

Can't stand him. He thinks he's a poet trapped in a sports writer's body. I find his stuff turgid, florid and wildly over-cooked. Still, I know plenty of fans of his...

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Steady up Vinnie, it's only a frikken game.