Relief at last as England play their part in a classic

The Samoans dropped their heads and accepted their fate, while the white-shirted Englishmen clenched their fists in a weary confusion of triumph and relief. Brian Ashton, the English coach who has been vigorously reviled this past week, wandered on to the field to offer earnest tribute to his players.

Captain marvel: Martin Corry scores the first try against Samoa

And 38,000 people in the Stade de la Beaujoire climbed to their feet and bellowed their appreciation. There are times when a match stands alone, regardless of its effect upon the competition at large. This was such a game.

It was all we could ask and more than we dared expect; grippingly contested and bruisingly fought, with its outcome wondrously uncertain until those closing stages when English power and organisation finally prevailed. Samoa revealed all their familiar weaknesses — lapses of discipline, failures of concentration, an utterly dysfunctional line-out — but they also demonstrated their immense strengths.

Their tackling was terrifying, their commitment a thing of wonder. They ran with freedom and muscular effect, and in examining nerve, courage and character, they allowed England not a moment's peace.

If a single performance can be said to justify the staging of this festival of world rugby, it was this epic from Samoa's rugby men.

Yet England faced it all with more skill and cohesion than they had previously shown in the competition.

They knew that the pace would be torrid and the hits ferocious, but they took their licks and suffered their hits, and as they worked through their problems, they even offered one or two nostalgic reminders of how the World Cup was won, four long years ago.

The depression which attended their opening matches — most especially that grotesquely inept collision with South Africa a week ago — was gleefully erased in the soft sunshine of Nantes.

They reminded us of those British heavyweights of old who, having been beaten up by Mike Tyson would swiftly arrange a comeback fight with a nightclub bouncer from Balham.

Usually, they would knock him out inside a couple of rounds, then announce their renewed plans to conquer the world. But sometimes the bouncer was obstinate and punches which should have separated him from his senses would bounce harmlessly off his chin. And that was when the British hero had to get down to serious work.

There is no intention here to belittle the Samoans. Indeed, they demonstrated once again on this exalted stage how effectively their explosive potential is being wedded to high technical skills. But, for the moment, their role is to extend and interrogate allegedly superior teams.

And, just like that durable bouncer, they sometimes play the role all too well. So these were the problems that England faced, and the fascination of the day lay in how they would set about solving them. As it happened, they profited from the kind of start for which every international coach prays when his team takes the field.

There was the charging down of a dilatory kick, a heartening spell of intensive bullying, and within two minutes, Martin Corry was bullocking over with the finesse of a dumper truck. With Wilkinson's conversion, followed by his trademark drop goal, it was a text book example of how to deflate ambitious Samoans.

The response was swift and telling. Rampaging surges constantly threatened retaliation,most damagingly in the massive forms of the prop Census Johnston and the brothers Henry and Alesana Tuilagi.

It seems there are four more brothers just as large back home. When Mother Tuilagi dishes up the evening meal, I doubt that her lads leave much on their plates.

As befits men of their size, they tore a number of large and jagged holes in the English defence.And with Loki Crichton landing any number of admirable kicks, the English could never relax, never stand back and admire their work,lest a runaway tackle leave them cold.

And yet, most encouragingly, the English forwards seemed to relish the rumble. Men like Corry, Simon Shaw, George Chuter and the massive Andrew Sheridan all dished out as good as they got; fiercely, efficiently and quite uncomplainingly. And while the neutrals in Nantes yelled for the underdogs, it slowly became clear that the champions would prevail.

Of course there remains much to do.While Wilkinson's game is improving by the moment, he remains a good way from his best, and his decision making lacked the clarity of old. But he seems suited by his scrum half partner Andy Gomarsall, whose entire performance simply bubbled with energy and sense.

Of course, there is a long road to travel, and certainly that road should run out long before the World Cup final.

But it was better, unrecognisably better, than it had been last week. At last the pride in performance was restored, as the game was first controlled and then won.

And when it was over, the Samoans trotted round the Beaujoire on an affectionate lap of honour before halting before the main stand and enacting one more rousing haka. The English fans cheered, the French roared, and everybody departed beaming broadly. It was that kind of game.

Happily, it can still be that kind of sport.