Alastair Kellock: A long journey home with too many regrets in our baggage

I write this while we wait in Sydney airport, having left Auckland on Sunday afternoon and ready to face the long haul back to Glasgow. Someone asked me about the RBS Six Nations Championship and how we have to look forward to that, but that seems as if it is years away right now.

This is only sport, I know, but the feeling of devastation is taking a while to remove itself. This was not the outcome that we hoped or planned for. I think back to the summer camp, the hours and hours of sprinting, punishing weights sessions, 800-metre runs, days and days of fitness work; weeks of pushing yourself to new limits, and pushing your teammates to those limits with you, the warm-ups, the selection, the nerves, the excitement.

The bond that all of that created was terrific and we were in great shape physically and mentally going to New Zealand. I look back at the wonderful welcome we received in Invercargill, from the people of the city, the great mayor Tim Shadbolt and the Maori people, to Wellington and the great friends we made there, and again the support we received, and then on to Auckland, where the reception we got when we ran out on to Eden Park, and the singing of the anthems, made it feel like Murrayfield.

All of these supporters, all of the great wishes and messages from home, and we didn’t do it. We didn’t beat Argentina when we had the chance to; we didn’t kick on when we led England 12-3, got ourselves in a great position again to win the game and qualify for the quarter-finals. We should have, could have, but didn’t. I am beginning to hate those words, ‘should’ and ‘could’.

We are a squad that is getting better and better, and after doing what we had to do to beat good sides in Romania and Georgia we showed we are capable of dominating Argentina and England, but that counts for absolutely nothing when you do not finish the job. Nothing. Nada. Bye bye.

As a squad we came together at the hotel in Auckland before half of us headed to the airport and a lot of the chat was about one huge lesson – how clinical we have to be to close things out. Readers have heard it before, I know, but believe me that part of the game has been drilled in over the past fortnight and we have to act on it.

There was not a great deal that could be said otherwise. Ross Ford was presented with his 50th cap, a great achievement for a great player, and I also want to pay tribute to Moray Low, who suffered more than most through having no chance to influence anything in the four games.

Moray’s attitude was brilliant and a credit to his professionalism. He had to sit and watch everything, unable to help by playing, and that is the hardest thing for any player. But his demeanour in the hotel, the way he trained and remained a strong, supportive part of our group was tremendous.

This was a special tournament and a great honour to be a part of it, and the players know how much pride they can take from the way they went about the work. But success and failure comes down to what you do in 80 minutes. Or in the final ten. Memories. The things we did well, the scrums that had them going backwards, sideways and into the ground; the lineouts that dominated and the plays that had their defence at sixes and sevens, scrambling to get to Nick or Joe, or whoever. And the mistakes, not claiming that kick-off. How? Why? The memory of doing most things right and leading for 76 minutes against England – and then. Every player will look back and say he could have done this or that differently. That’s rugby.

Humour is a great way to overcome challenges in life, but this is one time I have nothing to offer. Maybe it is just tiredness. I am shattered, drained mentally probably as much as physically.

I know the proud history we have in Scottish rugby and I have spoken to John Jeffrey and Gavin and Scott Hastings out here, and they have all done what is necessary to at least make the quarter-finals or go further. So it is hard to be returning home knowing we have not, and are the first Scottish team to go out of the World Cup in the pool stages.

But I can assure you there was no easy acceptance by this squad of what occurred in New Zealand; no feeling that it was anyone else’s fault but ourselves; no sense of injustice; just an understanding that we got things wrong at crucial times, and an appreciation that we are a good side that is not far from being a very good side if we retain belief in what we are doing and improve.

Andy Robinson is a very good coach and we have a lot of faith in where we are going. We wanted to be further than we are at this point, but we still believe we are on the right road.

I was dropped in this World Cup and Scotsman readers know how I felt about that. But I had no fall-out with Andy. He has been there and done it and knows how to drag performances out of squads at this level – he has certainly made me a better player. In all four games we got in the right place to win, but players made mistakes that cost us; no-one else. Finally, I would like to pay tribute to the support we have had in New Zealand, right up to when we got on the bus to go to the game on Saturday, which was phenomenal, and the send-off from the hotel yesterday. That means a lot. We know we did not achieve what we set out to achieve, and what you wanted, and that will hurt for some time.

But the messages and the words of support, the understanding that we gave everything we had to win for Scotland, helps keep us going. I am sure that it will inspire us when we do look forward too. Right now, I’m looking forward more than anything to seeing my wife Ashley and daughter Kate again, and trying to recover physically and mentally. I was delighted to hear of Glasgow’s win in Cardiff – that provided a lift too – and I’m looking forward to seeing the guys again.

Rugby is a great sport but it is only sport, not life or death. We will learn from this and become stronger as rugby players, and a stronger Scotland team going forward. Thank you to The Scotsman and readers for your support.