Heineken Cup: Edinburgh’s win was best piece of giant killing since David

HAS there ever been a more tumultuous, glorious day in the history of Scottish club rugby? Surely not, for this unexpected and marvellously gritty win over the most-storied side in European rugby in front of a record quarter-final crowd was an utterly unprecedented occasion. It was also one that Scottish rugby had barely dared to contemplate, let alone predict.

In the stands, the enormous crowd celebrated deliriously as captain Greig Laidlaw’s kick soared between the posts in injury time to seal his side’s momentous 19-14 win. But this victory wasn’t just an Edinburgh affair, because those fans had come from everywhere to witness what slowly turned into an epic spectacle. Before the match, on the thronged concourse outside Murrayfield, there were shirts from every corner of the nation, badges of Shetland rugby club, of Forrester, Isle of Mull, Ellon, Stewartry, Kelso and all points in between. They arrived in their thousands, the final tally coming in at a record 37,881. And they came for a party, prepared for a wake but longing for a famous victory for Scottish club rugby. It was an occasion which acted as a rebuke to those doomsayers who believe that rugby in Scotland is in terminal decline.

Instead, yesterday proved that if you qualify, they will come; that Scotland’s rugby family has merely taken a holiday from the game rather than emigrated. The much-maligned Union played its part, too, with a first home quarter-final being greeted by cheap ticket prices and the simple expedient of allowing fans to walk the west touchline. Of such gestures are a lasting relationship built.

Edinburgh have played like highly-strung show ponies throughout this competition, throwing the ball wide at every turn, but yesterday they came determined to meet the expected forward onslaught from the Frenchmen head on.

They did that, and more, immediately giving the crowd something to cheer with a series of frenzied early drives that culminated in a characteristically astute up-and-under from Laidlaw, a bungled take from wing Timoci Matanavou and Mike Blair cutely diving over for the opening try.

It was the sort of start that Edinburgh could scarcely have dreamed of, a blazing getaway which galvanised the crowd. That try was just a marker, though, a statement of an intent that soon became crystal clear. Rather than try and outfrench the French, Edinburgh were going to confront Guy Noves’ juggernaut up front, where Toulouse would surely never have expected it.

It worked, too, Edinburgh dominating the forward exchanges and overpowering a Toulouse scrum that’s as big, nasty and experienced as any in world rugby. They laid into the bluebloods of the Top 14 with an intensity and gusto that was as palpable as it was welcome. While Scotland’s rugby fans, with their barbecues and fancy dress, had come to party, Edinburgh had come for a war.

Toulouse based their game not around the running of France’s most prolific try-scorer Yves Donguy, but around the booming boot of deep-standing stand-off Lionel Beauxis, who thankfully played like the ghost of Dan Parks past, fitfully effective and missing two crucial penalties.

Not that Edinburgh needed to rely on Toulouse mistakes; instead they made their own luck. Inspired by an accomplished performance from skipper Laidlaw, who brought poise, direction and guile to his forwards’ grunt, Edinburgh played with a momentum and canny nous which kept Toulouse on the back foot throughout. Even the horribly harsh double sin-binning of Allan Jacobsen and Ross Rennie within two minutes of each other midway through the first half couldn’t derail Edinburgh; nor could Matanavou’s painfully easy try on the half-hour, which took Toulouse seven points clear.

This was Edinburgh’s day. They played like men possessed, their forwards pounding the visitors and Laidlaw reeling them in with three unanswered penalties and a drop-goal, each a hammer blow to strangely muted Toulouse’s wilting self-confidence.

By the end, propelled by almost 40,000 screaming voices, there was only ever going to be one winner. What a match, what a day.