For Townsend’s team, in far too many games, there’s uncertainty about when the damage will be done – the start or the end – but there is a near certainty that at some point it will indeed be done. It’s the rhythm of life under Townsend.
In Rome, it was at the start. There was talk from within the Scotland camp that they needed to execute better when entering an opponent’s 22. There were good reasons for that chat.
In last season’s Six Nations, they ranked second of six in terms of visits to a rival’s 22 and yet sixth of six in terms of points gained from those visits. Profligacy, as well as mental fragility, was a work-on, as they say.
A few minutes into the game, Scotland had an attacking line-out in Italy’s 22. A time for deeds now, not words. Clinical rugby, remember. Lessons learned. Progress.
Their ball was stolen at the front and Italy escaped. It was the beginning of an utter calamity out of touch for Ewan Ashman, in particular, and his successor, George Turner.
The conditions? Yes, abject, but Scotland’s error count across the board was higher than Italy’s.
At times, when throws were pilfered or just launched over the back with no jumper and seemingly no communication, it was an unholy mess.
You wouldn’t have predicted a Scotland defeat that early, but you get to understand the triggers in this team and the omens weren’t encouraging.
Especially so within a few minutes because Italy scored. Winning the air, as they so often did, they showed the kind of precision that Scotland only talked about. Ignacio Brex grubbered for Louis Lynagh and Italy had landed the first blow.
Becoming hard to score against was another of those non-negotiables that the Scotland boys mentioned. Up in smoke already.
Scotland had another attacking line-out inside Italy’s 22 soon after. Stolen again. A dozen minutes had been played and now, truly, you were hearing the music from Jaws ringing in the ears.
For a time, the conditions looked like they were impacting just one team out there. Italy went to the air once more, Lynagh got the better of the targeted Jamie Dobie and the score was on.
Michele Lamaro, the totem of the back-row, skipped a pass out to Tommaso Menoncello and a five-point lead became 12. A dozen points in that weather is worth a whole lot more.
Chasing in the rain makes you panic, makes you force things, eats into what is left of your belief.
To Scotland’s credit – and there’s very little to go around – they scored through Jack Dempsey and again, later on, through the effervescent George Horne.
Paolo Garbisi’s boot and the incredibly strong will of his team kept the Scots at bay.
That and the mistake mountains the visitors constantly constructed. It was a dogfight and Italy’s dogs were just that bit more menacing.
