O'Gara stands unbowed to join the Irish immortals

Wales 15 Ireland 17

(DAVID ASHDOWN)

How do we begin to measure it, this momentous achievement for Irish rugby? History is the most obvious yardstick – 61 years is a heck of a long stretch between Grand Slams – but it is also the most misleading. As Declan Kidney, the head coach of the new champions, was at pains to point out, it is now dangerously easy to belittle the efforts of generations who travelled this road without quite reaching the end, and to forget how close his own team came to failure. Who would be speaking of history's fulfilment had the last Welsh kick of this wonderful Six Nations finale sailed on the lightest of spring breezes for another 61 inches?

It is better, surely, to judge Ireland's triumph squarely in terms of the here and now, the only place that really matters to the finest players – those who, when a contest reaches its point of no return, have the skill, the technique, the courage, the nerve and the chutzpah to take possession of the moment. In Cardiff on Saturday night, Ronan O'Gara joined the ranks of the finest.

O'Gara? The same O'Gara who had missed match-winning kicks and slipped off match-saving tackles in Heineken Cup finals, who had been among the first to disappear into the quicksand of Ireland's pathetic World Cup campaign in 2007, who had very nearly blown it against England three weeks previously? Yes, the same O'Gara. Except this time, he was different. This time, he brought the very best of himself to bear on a Welsh team hell-bent on smearing him all over the capital. Quite how he held himself together at the last knockings, having been beaten to a pulp from the outset, was, and is likely to remain, a mystery that surpasseth all understanding. But he did it, and all Ireland will be grateful to him from now until at least 2070, the scheduled date of the next clean sweep.

Ireland's acknowledged stellar performers, the centre Brian O'Driscoll and the lock Paul O'Connell, were as magisterial as they had to be in resisting the Welsh: O'Driscoll played yet another captain's knock, sneaking round the corner of a ruck for a close-range try and generally setting the example; O'Connell, now threatening to out-Johnson Martin Johnson as a second-row forward for all the ages, led the charge up front with his customary cold-eyed ferocity. But without O'Gara, their efforts might easily have come to nothing. As O'Driscoll said, with boundless gratitude: "The boy's a wonder."

The outside-half's diagonal kick towards the right touchline six minutes into the second period was so perfectly placed – damn it, he hit the very blade of grass he was aiming for, bisecting the retreating Shane Williams and the advancing Gavin Henson with complete precision – that Tommy Bowe was able to score untouched by human hand. Then, with just two minutes left on the clock, he dropped the goal that launched a thousand parties. He still had to endure the sight of his opposite number, Stephen Jones, lining up a last shot at the sticks from near halfway, but it was out of his hands by then. He could do no more.

Do not let it be said that the drop-goal was an instinctive act, for it would sell O'Gara short. It was planned, meticulously, over the best part of two minutes – something close to an eternity in circumstances so extreme. "I had an awful lot of time to think about it, and by the end, I was roaring for the ball," said O'Gara, who repositioned himself more than once as O'Connell and company repeatedly sought contact in an effort to create the optimum platform. "I went through the imagery of it, visualising it going over. When it came to the moment, I had to concentrate fully on getting the ball up because I knew the Welsh would be right on me."

They were on him all game, bullying him with barely-concealed contempt and leaving him curled up on the turf like some mashed-up mound of rugby roadkill. Ryan Jones tripped him in the opening minute – even had the assault been in a less public place, the Welsh captain's ridiculous blue boots would have given him away – and after the victim had missed the penalty shot, he quickly found himself smithereened by Tom Shanklin and Dafydd Jones. The more resilience he showed, the harder the Welsh tried to break him. O'Gara is as far from paranoid as it is possible to be, but there must have been times when he felt everyone was out to get him. "I expected it, actually," he said, in his soft Munster tones. "People like to think I'll crack under pressure, but I've won two European titles under pressure. I don't think any of that Welsh team have ever played in a final. They might talk the talk, but they haven't walked the walk. What concerned me more was the impression at home that we Munster players hadn't contributed as much to the national cause as we had to the provincial one. I'm so happy that's gone now."

Gone, never to return. For the most part, Ireland placed their faith in a pack that was seven-eighths Munster – when Stephen Ferris, the workaholic flanker from Ulster, was crocked in the brutal early exchanges, he was replaced by Tipperary's finest, Denis Leamy – and their close-knit camaraderie was something to behold. If Gethin Jenkins and Adam Jones established a degree of superiority at the scrum, O'Connell made such an unholy mess of the Welsh line-out that Warren Gatland, the home coach, was forced to withdraw Ian Gough, his most effective forward around the field, and replace him with the much taller Luke Charteris.

Wales also finished a distant second on the floor, where Leamy and David Wallace performed brilliantly, both in turning over opposition ball on the front foot and in retaining possession on the back foot. But for their own passionate manning of the barricades, the home side would have been a dozen points down at the midway stage rather than six points up. Shanklin, in particular, was a tower of strength.

"One thing you can't question about this team is its heart," said Ryan Jones, who, an hour after the final whistle, was still close to tears. "We put everything we had into that match and unless you're a sportsman who has dealt with a disappointment like this, you can't even begin to imagine how hard it is to take." Defeat may have cost the Welsh Rugby Union a seven-figure sum in prize money, but their national captain could not have cared less. On days like this, financial implications are no measure at all.

Just as history is no measure. Are the 2009ers better than the 1948ers? It is impossible to give a sensible answer. All we know is this: O'Driscoll, O'Connell and, yes, O'Gara are there in the pantheon, alongside Jackie Kyle and Karl Mullen – not to mention the Willie John McBrides and Ollie Campbells and Keith Woods, who never played in a Grand Slam-winning side. Around half the '48 team are still with us, and they raised a glass on Saturday night. It would be nice to think the other half were watching, too.

Wales: L Byrne (Ospreys); M Jones (Scarlets), T Shanklin (Cardiff Blues), G Henson (Ospreys), S Williams (Ospreys); S Jones (Scarlets), M Phillips (Ospreys); G Jenkins (Cardiff Blues), M Rees (Scarlets), A Jones (Ospreys), I Gough (Ospreys), A W Jones (Ospreys), D Jones (Scarlets), M Williams (Cardiff Blues), R Jones (Ospreys, capt). Replacements: J Roberts (Cardiff Blues) for Byrne, 35; L Charteris (Newport Gwent Dragons) for Gough, 58; H Bennett (Ospreys) for Rees 58.

Ireland: R Kearney (Leinster); T Bowe (Ospreys), B O'Driscoll (Leinster, capt), G D'Arcy (Leinster), L Fitzgerald (Leinster); R O'Gara (Munster), T O'Leary (Munster); M Horan (Munster), J Flannery (Munster), J Hayes (Munster), D O'Callaghan (Munster), P O'Connell (Munster), S Ferris (Ulster), D Wallace (Munster), J Heaslip (Leinster). Replacements: D Leamy (Munster) for Ferris, 8; T Court (Ulster) for Hayes, 26-30; G Murphy (Leicester) for Kearney, 71; R Best (Ulster) for Flannery, 72; P Stringer (Munster) for O'Leary, 74; P Wallace (Ulster) for Fitzgerald, 82.

Referee: W Barnes (England).