Does two go into six?

So what of the Six Nations to date? The cream of Europe playing in a highly competitive tournament in packed stadia. Highly anticipated drama, passion and age old rivalries once again rekindled. The promise of new blood spilt whilst fighting for the right to be called the best. England, prove your worth and make a country proud. All sound too good to be true?
And then the reality of it kicks in like a mule being tickled down an alleyway. The truth is we stink. The rugby from England is boring and going nowhere fast, apart from downhill. The 2010 Six nations is already a mish mash of the good, bad and oh so ugly.
Where is the promised enthusiasm with flowing moves, breathtaking decision making and lionheart defence? Where is the crowd pleasing breaks, high scoring multi phase moves crossing most of the pitch intertwined with cheeky individual breaks from talented super fit athletes in their prime? Nowhere to be seen, not from my view.
Where are the upbeat and well watered crowd pleading for more? Each and every one hanging onto the thread that next week can cause an upset, a bigger drama, more of the same. Tens of thousands going away thirsty still for highlights reels that expose the other home nations in an embarrassing regularity, masterminding the French to a sorry bucket of despair or the Italians to a soggy frozen pizza from an English high powered microwave.
The boys just don't seem hungry enough. It's not there, the passion or pride, nothing is there to dazzle and make us believe that the team is flourishing and improving. The drama from England only lasts for minutes yet continues to be causing heartache for most of each and every game.
Patriotic St.George flag wavers will always spend thousands and more thousands watching their (anti) heroes and former World champions falter, stumble and eventually fail time and time and again. It doesn't matter what the results, its more about the week-end away than the result to stay. So why oh why are they playing so negatively? At least make these long suffering fans happy in Rome or Edinburgh.
The coach is a hero. He is a monster amongst mere mortals. A brute of a man who doesn't smile or change expression whether winning, losing or being interviewed by another BBC drone. The man is an anamoly of human nature, a true sporting freak from the dark ages with a presence to put fear not only into the opposition but now, it seems, also his own team.
What has happened is team Martin Johnson are like a squad of lemmings, following their coach without question, afraid to break from the family circle of trust and devoid
of their own thinking. The captain, 'steady Steve Borthwick' seems glazed over at the suggestion he could be leading a team bursting with energy and potential down a tepid road filled with muddy potholes to wallow in for a few years.
Is there a situation that Mr.Steady can't 'take lots of positives' from. He is blind to running rugby, nearly as much as the ever present darling Wilkinson. But that is another story for another million cloumn inches. Pass the ball Johnny, pass the ball please.
If England aren't playing at all, Italy aren't good enough and Scotland have less players by the day then who is there to watch? What team is going to send me down the pub for an extra pint rather than the sofa with my wife's milky tea to keep me company?
Ireland look like yesterday's champions more and more with half a team too inexperienced or past their running best. Wales are confused whether they are good enough or not, whether they should run and kick or run and tackle or kick and kick some more. Potential but its just that, potential. A bit more exciting but still the fear of the nation is there on each and every shoulder.
The saving light being France and their want to pass, run, score and entertain. The French, with their fickle Parisian fans and evergreen Gallic flair we are fed in commentary cliche time after time. The French, with their abandon to the normal, the love to dance and tickle through minute gaps and mesmerise with the touch that comes from a coach's freedom to express.
The one team that really gets us interested, applauding, crying and wanting more. The mainland Brits should look and learn, the fan won't be this obedient forever. Allez les Bleus est Laissez les bons temps rouler.