Wow, the Kiwis seem a little bitter and twisted too. They don't do defeat well, do they?

At least in the back of our minds we always expected Ireland to mess up but the Kiwis were absolutely certain where they were going. But after the defeat to France, there were death threats, talk of economic recession and lynching in the media? Bitter and twisted alright.

The IRB now have a serious problem.

Around 20,000 Kiwis sat silent, glumfaced and cold in the stands during last night's semi-final, with many of them expected to return for Saturday's final.

Embarrassingly, at least we broke into song in Cardiff. This lot will be sowing poison, rubbishing what's in front of them.

Why? Well, because they should have won 'the little yellow pot', as Graham Henry described it. Only once, in 1991 did New Zealand not have the best side, Australia standing out that year. So the competition was theirs to lose on six occasions and, glory-be, they have managed to do that in spectacular fashion on five.

And that is the beauty of a knock-out cup competition.

Put simply, the best team doesn't necessarily pick up the pot . . . you have to earn it. Last Saturday's game left me giddy. It was seismic in the scale of its upset. Did France earn it or did New Zealand throw it away? Let me remind you of the thin ice I'm walking on. I have called Bernard Laporte a clown yet he has taken his team from the precipice. Is he lucky or good? What part did Graham Henry play in his own team's downfall.

Let's start with Henry. I can't warm to the guy, in fact let's save time . . . instant dislike here. Patronising and disdainfully condescending. His positive slant on opposing teams' merits are instantly dismissive. Subtlety may deceive you, integrity never will. Even in victory the false humility was hard to take. It is, as they say, the worst form of conceit.

Where did he get it wrong? Well selection was his first mistake. In my humble opinion Chris Jack is the best on the planet, followed closely by Ali Williams.

I have watched the Cardiff quarter-final four times. Keith Robinson, with 55 minutes of game time behind him, had a very poor game. I'm a firm believer in one thing . . . pick your best players, pick them even if they have been convicted for interfering with livestock. Pick them and ensure you get the optimum performance.

Partners, particularly long-term partners, don't like being split up. Butch and Sundance, Fred and Ginger, Jack and Williams all know each other's games well. They dovetail and cover for each other. You could see that there was no chemistry between Williams and Robinson. A baffling decision. Aaron Mauger though was the biggest. Apparently there is a personality clash. Henry must have sensed that the French might actually fire and it could be close. New Zealand would come under pressure and the coolest brain would be required.

If Mauger had been on, he would have ensured one thing . . . the scoreboard would have ticked over. I can't remember an international test involving the All Blacks where they failed to register a score of any kind in the last 20 minutes. They did not score after Rodney So'oailo's try in the 61st minute. Mauger is a pragmatist. He would be thinking "we're in trouble here, we're losing, I think I'll drop back seven metres off the line and slot one". As a second fiveeight the term heads-up rugby was coined for him. He looks up and instinctively knows what to do. Over the last seven years think of how many tries and winning situations have been generated by this catalyst. Consistently he has been pound for pound the best player in the world . . . until now. You can do little in a blazer in the stand.

Henry was unlucky in the sense that his executive decision makers, Dan Carter and Byron Kelleher, left the field injured in the 55th minute when New Zealand still had their destiny in their own hands. Anton Oliver, another leader, separated at the same time. Eight minutes later their chief ball-carrier and destroyer Gerry Collins limped off after receiving a savage hit.

You could now see why Henry had persisted with his ridiculous squad rotations policy. Except it didn't work. When the wheels fell off you had a gel-haired, perma-tanned Gavin Henson look-a-like controlling the game. Sure he made a couple of incisive breaks in the first half but he was hopelessly incapable of rubber-stamping New Zealand's positional ascendancy and their time in possession became a liability as they went through phases without the correct amount of variation.

Suddenly the All Blacks ranks were flooded with players who could only run and pass when sang froid was required.

Richie McCaw, having being pinged twice in the first eight minutes, lost his impetus. He was unable to kill ball and New Zealand looked clueless under pressure.

Brilliant when doing their pick-andgoes when Luke McAllister was correctly sin-binned and again when So'oailo scored but clueless when the French incredibly upped the tempo and changed their tactics. The Kiwis buckled and choked . . . it was wonderful to behold.

It was a miracle France actually won this game. Their line-out leaked seven balls on the throw. Their scrum was uncharacteristically dismantled. They got their selection wrong and they only realised by mistake that they needed to change their tactics.

What kept them in the game when they should have been carved up? An English bloke called David Ellis . . . their defence coach. The French had to make 118 tackles . . . but it wasn't the number of tackles they had to make, it was the fact they kept their shape which was important. Two times New Zealand went through 15 phases yet France still were fluent behind as opposed to being fractious. That must have unsettled the Kiwis, so much effort, such little reward.

Laporte's bench won him the game but a lot of what happened was almost accidental and shaped by events outside the coach's control.

Serge Betsen got injured after four minutes. He is a key player for them but Imanol Harinordoquy had an astonishing match in the loose. He was second only to Dusautoir as the highest tackler.

Fabien Pelous was a sentimental selection. He lost three line-outs called on himself, by himself when it should have gone to Julien Bonnaire or Harinordoquy.

He made a few tackles but his biggest contribution was the scrummage. When he left, France's scrum was in trouble but not enough to change the complexion of the game.

Lionel Beauxis, Damien Traille and, to a lesser degree, the excellent Jean-Baptiste Ellisalde kicked poorly and it was obvious from 30 minutes they would have to hold on to the ball, otherwise New Zealand would just pick them off.

The introduction of Sebastien Chabal and Dimitri Szarzewksi turned the game.

Szarzewski simply cut some of New Zealand's runners in two. It was, like Dusautoir's tackling, not the quantity but the quality. Chabal ripped three balls for turnovers and tripled the work rate of Pelous.

Beauxis at this stage was lost. Laporte probably realised Freddie Michalak could turn the game. He did. Only Michalak could have pirouetted, checked and peaflicked to Yannick Jauzion. The check was crucial because if the ball had been transferred instantaneously Leon McDonald would have got his tackle in. Michalak did precisely nothing after his intervention.

Dusautoir and Bonnaire mopped up his missed tackles when New Zealand went hunting for the game. Cedric Heyman is another poor selection, he dropped two balls deep in the second half. Christophe Dominici was brought on and that effectively sealed the game.

Nobody can tell me that Laporte's tactics for the first 35 were to be changed for the second half. Even the most cogent analyst would be at pains to credit him with the victory. The change brought a boost in momentum and confidence and their tempo and shape morphed as a consequence. How did he plan it? He didn't. How do you know when bag-pipes need tuning? You don't. It was very simple. France rode their luck until the obvious presented itself, the bench was the key and both teams will be pinching themselves. France that they were still in it and New Zealand that they had choked . . . again.

Meanwhile . . . totally unrelated . . . rugby is the ultimate contact sport. Savage aggression, savage hits. Ireland, despite their problems, still managed to field a full strength side for nearly all of their games over the last year. Strange, then, that when the soccer lads lined up against Germany in Croke Park last night some of their number opted out with scarcely believable soft-tissue injuries and the like. Different sport, different people.