For a month and more, as they celebrated a century at Murrayfield, Scottish Rugby has been canvassing opinion on the greatest moment the old place has seen. Views are split.
In the business of the worst moment, there may be unanimity, just as soon as the effects of the smelling salts and the large brandies kick in. The most painful, the one that left fans feeling light-headed, jelly-legged and nauseous – look no further than this.
This was New Zealand being New Zealand with knobs on. It was Scotland being Scotland, too. Frail and brilliant, exhilarating and infuriating.
So many opportunities wasted, so many moments where they let New Zealand off the hook, so many All Black yellow cards (three) with Scottish points coming off only one of them.
The visitors played with 14 for 30 minutes and the score across the span of that half-hour was 7-7. One stat in a million to torment Gregor Townsend and his players.
In 2014, 2017 and 2022 the All Blacks beat Scotland late in the day, but this was different. Different and yet the same.
Sione Tuipulotu said that in clawing it back from 17-0 to make it 17-17 his team played their best rugby in his time in the country. The captain said that such was the noise and chaos inside Murrayfield it felt like the stadium was “hovering”. And you knew where he was coming from.
Belief swirled like the skirl of the bagpipes. Scotland’s soft touch beginning had been cast to the winds.
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In the aftermath, Scott Robertson, the All Blacks coach, was asked what the endgame was all about and he mentioned the word “clutch”. He was right. With New Zealand, it’s always clutch.
Cowering on the ropes for much of a second half dominated by Jack Dempsey’s carries, Gregor Brown’s power, Rory Hutchinson’s unrelenting attacking and Kyle Steyn’s constant influence, the visitors found something when it looked like they had nothing.
Composure won the day. Again. Scotland must have given away five penalties in the final 10 minutes. New Zealand turned the screw, just like the last time and the time before that and the time before that.
Damian McKenzie’s 70th minute 50-22 was like a fireball falling from the sky, winning all-important field position – a “gut punch” as Tuipulotu called it. His finish moments later was outstanding, but Scottish regret was writ large over it. Shouldn’t Blair Kinghorn have made his tackle and dealt with the danger?
McKenzie’s booming kick seconds from the end put it beyond reach. Scotland done in the final minutes once more. White is the new black.
In the pantheon of losses, this was arguably the most excruciating. Lack of concentration cost Scotland a score after three minutes and lack of organisation cost them again before the break. Amid all of this, Scotland put in some almighty defensive sets, repelling the All Blacks with a demonic intent.
But what good is all that resilience if it’s accompanied by all that softness and wastefulness?
‘All Blacks were there for the taking’
At 17-0 the obituaries were being written. How bad was it going to get? How brutal was the analysis going to be? Scotland – all style, no substance. Not a serious team. Not a side to be respected when facing the biggest guns. Whither Townsend?
When things started to turn, it was electrifying. It was like you walked into some kind of parallel universe, a place where Scotland were now ruthless and full of running and where New Zealand were hanging on for grim death.
It all changed when Ewan Ashman scored and when Ardie Savea got binned in the aftermath. 17-7 against 14 men? You’re telling me there’s a chance.
Three minutes later, Scotland scored again. Tuipulotu went blasting and Kinghorn flung it wide to Steyn. A three-point game. Murrayfield on its feet, pulses racing. It was some of the best stuff we’ve seen from Scotland in an age – and some of the most maddening.
Around the 53-minute mark they went hunting again, should have scored but knocked on instead. In the 56th minute they piled on, Darcy Graham almost getting over in the corner, but dropping the ball under pressure.
It was a thrill-fest but it was worrying, too. Through their frenetic search for scores, Scotland were only liberating New Zealand instead of locking them up and throwing away the key, as clinical teams would do.
Still, not long after Savea returned to the battle, Finn Russell banged over a penalty to level it. Then, the death-wish in the All Black camp returned when Wallace Sititi deliberately knocked on. A third New Zealand yellow.
It was as if they were goading Scotland now. “Come on lads, we’re doing our best to help you here. How many cards do we need to get for you to beat us?”
The Sititi minutes came and went and the scoreboard didn’t budge. That was the cringe-factor right there. That was the red flag on Scottish hopes. These are not vintage All Blacks and they were there for the taking. Maybe they just got fed up waiting for Scotland to win the day?
We entered the final 10 minutes and the sense of foreboding began to grow. Anybody who knows the recent history of this fixture is aware of the darkness that descends on Scotland in the closing stages against the All Blacks.
In your head you could hear the distant sound of thunder. Or jungle drums. Or a funeral march. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. McKenzie hit them with that game-changing 50-22. From Damian, an omen.
Penalties were given away, ground was conceded, hope faded. McKenzie scored and there was no coming back. In days gone by you would call this a moral victory, you would feast on the positives and talk about the things that suggest Scotland can live with the best.
We’re past that and good riddance to the mentality. There was no solace in performance and no pride in failure. It was a compelling day but also dispiriting almost beyond words.
Scotland could and should have won. They looked immortality in the eye and said “not today”, as if 120 years isn’t long enough to wait.
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