Dawson sets himself up for a fall

Clive Woodward listed England's many mistakes and inadequacies, but he could not, or would not, come up with a reason.

I reckon it was the boots. It made as much sense as all the theories floating around Dublin on Saturday night.

From the moment Matt Dawson stepped on the pitch wearing a cross between ballet shoes and winkle pickers, the sort of thing Jerry Lee Lewis might have been seen dead in, England seemed in trouble.

It looked like the footwear a genius would don only if feeling extremely lucky. You could imagine fate conspiring against a person in such flash gear. Injury, retiral and the ignominy of captaining your country to a third calamitous Grand Slam attempt in a row would come as little surprise. Keith Wood would never opt for the ostentation of a pair of Moira Shearers. Though very much the modern Irish sporting hero, he retains enough of a flavour of times gone by to be thought of as a dab hand with the dubbin.

The Irish still inhabit that territory. They may talk, even play, a good, modern, professional game, but a reluctance to take themselves - or indeed anything - too seriously eventually shines through the po- faced intensity of international sport.

Where else but at an Irish rugby Press conference would an official extricate from his pocket a crumpled betting slip, place it among the microphones and ask the national captain to confirm that a wager of £5 at 22-1 had been put on him scoring the first try?