For 80 minutes, Wales had a plan to stifle France, doing their best to squeeze the joie from their joie de vivre.
It wasn’t always pretty, and, at times, it stifled their own attacking opportunities, as demonstrated by the first home Six Nations clash in Cardiff without a Welsh try since Ronan O’Gara snatched an Irish Grand Slam back in 2009.
But for 75-odd minutes, Wales believed their master plan could work.
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They kicked often and smart, intent on reducing the number of rucks in their own half.
One twisting, bizarre passage of play in the first-half perhaps tested their intentions more than most, with both sides getting drawn into a breathless run of phases as possession as territory swung freely between blue and red jerseys with no sign of a stoppage.
Eventually, the ball fell in the back-field to Wales’ captain Dan Biggar.
Taking one look up, he rifled a cultured spiral kick towards green space down the other end of the pitch.
“50:22,” called referee Matthew Carley assuredly before the ball had even hit grass.
As far from the action as possible, down on the left wing near halfway, Josh Adams stood stationary – as many were compelled to after a sequence of events that seemed destined to never quite finish – and raised his arms to the air triumphantly.
Amongst the lack of structure that, in truth, neither side craved, Wales, and Biggar, found a framework that worked.
It was no surprise that France, who had kicked more than any other side, were willing to put boot to ball in the Cardiff rain. So too was it only to be expected that Wales, with Biggar and Liam Williams in their ranks, responded in turn.
The kicking battle that ensued became the story of the match, with Carley’s early intervention setting the stall early as he clamped down on French blocking, paving the way for Wales to get some joy under the high ball.
“You cannot form a wall and block,” said Carley. Point made.
“Just keep an eye on them being onside from kicks,” was one request from Biggar. His interactions with Carley were few and far between, but when they occurred, they tended to involve the kicking game.
The lengthy passages of play that stemmed from the chess-like kicking dogfights left more than one on the field breathing a little heavier.
“We need a standard that’s realistic for the whole game,” said Carley to a group of players during one stoppage. “I’m sure you’ll need a breather at some point.”
When Biggar took a 22 drop out quickly to end the half, all Carley could do was joke in relief that the fly-half didn’t keep the ball in play for another sapping passage of play.
As the match wore on, Wales’ belief in their plan grew as the French started to wilt under the pressure.
Uncharacteristic mistakes and infringements littered their game.
All full-back Williams could do was grin from cheek to cheek after forcing a French knock-on from an aerial contest.
Further back from the point where he’d kicked it, Biggar looked at him and simply nodded in approval.
The two wouldn’t always see eye to eye, mind.
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After Wales won a penalty in their own 22, Biggar seemed to take umbrage with Williams’ positioning during their penalty advantage.
“It’s our penalty for f**k sake,” he bellowed, chewing out his full-back with full-scale hand gestures.
As the match neared its finish, Wales retained faith in their kicking game.
Even when the Principality Stadium resembled the Stade de France, with an impromptu rendition of La Marseillaise met only with Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau being pumped around the ground on the stadium’s PA system, Wales kept to their aerial assault.
“Go on Cuthy, that’s it Alex,” roared one after the Welsh winger chased a high ball with typical vigour.
Chances came. Chances went.
Jonathan Davies’ dropped pass from Taulupe Faletau was one that every Welsh supporter will look back on ruefully, but there was another to follow.
Welsh red-zone pressure ended in agonising fashion with a Romain Ntamack interception from a Biggar pass.
Sensing the danger of a counter-attack, the Welsh captain dropped deep down the pitch – only for his team-mates to compound the error with a penalty.
From there, Biggar punched his hand in frustration, before simply standing motionless with his hands on his hips.
As his team-mates joined him on halfway, he snapped back into his role as skipper, clapping his hands manically.
“Keep coming! Keep coming!”
However, with minutes remaining and a four-point deficit, you sensed that Wales knew they couldn’t turn to the kicking game now.
Even with Hymns and Arias ringing out, Wales couldn’t play out from their own half in the dying seconds.
As France cleared the ball off the park, Biggar once again stood alone in the back-field. Eventually, he found the energy to slowly unwrap the tape off his wrists and congratulate his opponents.
Other Welsh players dropped to the turf or leaned back on their haunches.
Ross Moriarty just knelt there, head in his hands, for a good 30 seconds.
Eventually, fellow back-rower François Cros trundled over to him and exchanged pleasantries. With that done, Moriarty himself wandered over to a quieter spot on the field for more reflection.
Finally, as the players exited the pitch and Welsh supporters filed out the stands in a similarly sullen fashion, all that was left was the vast number of French fans to serenade the disappointed locals with cries of ‘Allez les Bleus’.
So close, yet, once again, so far.