Wales' reputation as a rugby nation in tatters after surrender to England that will live in infamy

Telegraph

15-03-2025

It is fear that England players are meant to feel on their journeys west, a raw and primeval terror of having their reputations torched in the white heat of the Cardiff cauldron. As Long as We Beat the English: that was the ditty written by the Stereophonics especially for this duel in 1999, when a Wales side in transition derailed Clive Woodward's Grand Slam ambitions by a single point. The sentiment endures, but in 2025 it is borne less of hope than delusion.
You hardly detected much mortal dread in Tom Curry when, in only the second minute, the England openside ran straight over Wales captain Jac Morgan, normally the one reliable link in a side being held together with duct tape. And you saw scant trepidation when 20-year-old Henry Pollock scythed through a decrepit defence to score a try within minutes of his debut, propelling England beyond their previous best points total in Cardiff of 44, set in 2001. 'Can we play you every week?' the travelling supporters crowed, a taunt to seep like acid into national pride.
Spotting your besties in the crowd 🫶🥰 #GuinnessM6N @EnglandRugby pic.twitter.com/b4rIUUj5rk
— Guinness Men's Six Nations (@SixNationsRugby) March 15, 2025
This is the one fixture for which all Wales players are supposed to rouse themselves, where they invariably summon a ferocious riposte to quell any talk of an inferiority complex. But as Pollock's second try set the seal on a barely believable scoreline of 14-68, any defiance had long since evaporated. There were as many missed Welsh tackles as merry offloads by England's rampant forwards. Wales were out on their feet, as crushed and crestfallen as those in the stands in full daffodil costume. And those were just the fans who had deigned to stay until the bitter end.
For a land where rugby is a secular religion, this is not merely a low, but a nadir. Simply to be beaten by England at the Principality Stadium is wounding enough, but to ship 10 tries is a humiliation without precedent. Nobody has subjected the hosts to this level of ignominy in Cardiff – not even the All Blacks, who racked up 55 here in 2022. But 68? There can be no sugaring this acrid pill. Wales are an unmitigated shambles, so bereft of inspiration that Morgan looked as if he wanted to cry, and so fundamentally broken that you wonder who on earth would want to coach them.
It is a mercy that Wales do not have to qualify for the next World Cup, because you would not trust them even to beat Portugal or Romania on this evidence. The temptation among many England veterans scalded by their experiences in this fixture must be to crow. It was notable, in the build-up, how players such as Matt Dawson, Chris Ashton and Danny Care were all reluctant to trumpet England's chances too openly, given the scars they still carried. But we are living through a period where so many of the certainties of old have dissolved. Once, it was a guarantee that Wales would save their best for this clash. Except this is a team for whom the very notion of 'best' appears not to exist.
For all that this was an occasion to cherish for England, with their attack merciless in every department, it was one of profound sorrow for Wales, their players powerless to resist their slide to a record-extending 17th straight Test defeat. How much further will that grisly sequence stretch? To 20? 25? Seldom has any side's prognosis been, in the short term at least, so hopeless. We can shelve the pretence that any single individual is responsible. For all that Warren Gatland drew his share of vitriol as head coach, especially after a 52-20 loss in Cardiff to Australia last November, that performance against the Wallabies was luminous by comparison to this unconditional surrender. Yes, England were outstanding. But truly, Wales have never been so abject.
What should horrify the Welsh Rugby Union more than anything, though, is the reaction. It was not simply that the players were physically deficient, so outmuscled by England that the gulf grew almost embarrassing. It was that the 74,000-strong crowd responded to this marmalising with mute acquiescence. You almost wanted to hear the stirrings of a mutiny: this would, if nothing else, have offered proof that those paying to watch refused to accept such indignity. But the response was just a giant collective shrug, expressing the heartbreaking reality that Wales were a spent force. More results like these, and it is no exaggeration to suggest that the Welsh game as we know it will not just wither away, but die altogether.
England fans could not even amuse themselves with endless refrains of S wing Low, Sweet Chariot. Once the 50 barrier had been crossed, they declared that they would cheer if the Welsh, as ineffectual in possession as they were dire in defence, could score. While Ben Thomas duly obliged, the blood-letting did not relent, with Pollock and stand-in lock Chandler Cunningham-South applying the gloss to Steve Borthwick's masterpiece. England deserved to celebrate deliriously, but the dominant mood after this giddyingly lopsided game was one of Welsh despair. Over the public address system, Have a Nice Day could be heard, by the same band who had created that fateful As Long as We Beat the English tune. A nice day? This was a day, for anybody wearing red, that would live in infamy.