'Fantastic French made to look ordinary as Scotland come of age'

By

BBC Scotland's chief sports writer at Murrayfield

More than three hours before kick-off at Murrayfield every route into the old place was lined with blue, white and red, the streets full of French colour, the air full of French song.

Approaching the stadium, you started to question the numbers you'd been given about the scale of the visiting support - 15,000 they said. It felt like 20,000 and more.

At the back of the West Stand, they lined the road waiting for the French players to arrive. They climbed the steps normally occupied solely by Scots and waited in their lofty vantage points for the Grand Slam champions-to-be.

French flags, French scarves, French fans with tricolor wigs and cockerel hats. They were everywhere. When Les Bleus appeared, you'd have sworn we were in Paris. They'd all come for a party but instead attended a wake.

In the sanctity of their own (extremely spacious) dressing room at the break in this 13-try, 90-point epic, the question for Scotland was how they could finish what they'd already started.

How they could keep playing relentlessly and clinically; rugby from another dimension, creative, clinical and utterly exhilarating.

When you've been through the wringer with this team you learn to erect protective walls guarding against excessive bouts of optimism, but there was something different about all of this.

It felt strange - faith had entered the building. Scotland looked completely and utterly convincing.

Sione Tuipulotu, their outstanding leader, spoke on Friday about the nature of psychology. Scotland should not be afraid if they fell behind, he said, and they should not be afraid if they were ahead.

What he wanted was "us being us". Keep playing and keep believing, in other words. His players didn't just take his words on board, they lived by them.

This has to be the greatest victory of the Gregor Townsend era and the greatest single performance against such class opponents since a whole lot longer than that - 1990, perhaps.

Before any of these lads were born, even the veteran Grant Gilchrist.

Out Scotland came for the second half with a five-point lead, a match to win, a sensation to deliver to the rugby world.

Against England in round two, they had shown their lovely invention, but that side of their personality has never been in doubt.

In Cardiff, a fortnight ago, they showed their mental strength in adversity, something they haven't shown enough of over the years. A step forward, that.

Here, at a heaving Murrayfield stuffed with the expectant French, they found their complete self. Or, at least, they carried on showing their complete self.

France were spooked. No dominance in the air like they had in their first three games, no record amount of offloads, no easily-manipulated defence in front of them, no flurry of tries from the get-go, no soft touches down the other end.

They made errors and were made to pay for them by a ruthless team.

They hit Scotland with two quick tries but Scotland hit back hard. They weren't used to this. The home team, with their unending fight and ambition, took them to a dark place and France couldn't find their way back to the light.

Maybe they had portents that it could be like this. When Fabien Galthie had his bizarre pop at the size of the away dressing room at Murrayfield, was that his attempt at creating a siege mentality?

Was he concerned that things had become too cosy? Did he feel he needed to shake up his players by warning them of supposed chicanery? Speculation, but why else would he rant on in that way?

As well as his dressing room chat, Galthie bigged-up the Scottish threat, but that stuff didn't get the same kind of headlines. It was obvious in his words that he was a touch concerned about the threat coming his way. And he was right.

In a third-quarter that made you rub your eyes in disbelief, Scotland were adventurous and attritional; lethal in scoring tries and savage in the collision areas.

In the building of a monster lead, they made a fantastic team look ordinary. Nobody outside of their bubble saw this coming.

A five-point lead became 12 when Ben White took off at the side of a ruck two minutes into the new half, and 12 became 19 when Kyle Steyn ran half the length of the Corstorphine Road to score Scotland's fifth.

We came here thinking we'd be celebrating the great Louis Bielle-Biarrey, who has now scored in nine straight Six Nations games and in 25 in his 26 Tests, but Steyn outshone him.

He was insanely good, not just in scoring two tries, but in his decision-making, his defence, his agenda-setting work-rate. Steyn is world class from his top to his toe.

That third quarter was a whirlwind. Opportunistic and brutal. Jack Dempsey was a human thunderclap, but hardly alone in that.

Scotland lost men to injury but never let up. Graham scored again, then Tom Jordan. Scotland had seven tries and 47 points on the board. Men possessed. France's Slam trampled underfoot. Murrayfield went berserk.

BBC Scotland Rugby Podcast

07/03/26

From the loss to Italy, this has been a delightful freakshow from Scotland.

Three wins in a row, three bonus points in a row, England and France battered and something to play for on the final day. Rarefied air and how Townsend's players will be breathing it in right now.

They are wounded warriors, though. Few wins of this magnitude come without a price. Gregor Brown is out of the Dublin trip. Scott Cummings is struggling. Novenas for some others - Steyn and Huw Jones included.

The trip to Dublin was already a Triple Crown decider. Now it's potentially a whole lot more than that. The winner would become champions if France slip-up against England, which, to be fair, is highly improbable given the state of the English.

Scotland have a second bite at it. A bonus point win in Ireland and no bonus point win for France in Paris and then, unbelievably, the Scots are the champions.

They won't bog themselves down with the permutations, for wins against Ireland are thin on the ground for Scotland.

They've lost 11 in a row under Townsend, some of them by vast margins, some of them over before they ever really started. Ireland have a tendency to come out of the traps hard and fast against Scotland.

In recent years there's been an edge between the nations, some in Ireland being fond of accusing Scotland players of hyping themselves despite having achieved nothing, the Scots replying with a bemused weariness at this phantom bombast they're being accused of.

There's been clashes between players and rancour between unions, but all of that will be phoney wars compared to what is about to happen in Dublin.

The real deal is on its way. Winner (maybe) takes all. Winner (certainly) takes the Triple Crown. After the dog-days of the Italy loss, Townsend and his players would have taken your hand for this scenario.

They kept a lid on their euphoria after France. Townsend spoke warmly about the performance, the graft and the craft they showed, but he wasn't exactly shouting from any rooftops.

Beside him, Tuipulotu was measured and focused, a picture of contentment after a job spectacularly well done, while giving off the vibe that there's another, even bigger job, to do on Saturday.

On a day that threw up so many memorable images, that one final one of the captain and his studied calm was impressive, too.

So much done and so much left to do for a team that looks to have come of age. Heady days.