In this column last week, and on numerous previous occasions during this season’s Heineken Cup, I stated my belief that Munster are no longer a force in European Rugby. My rationale related to a feeling that their pack was ageing and no longer able to dominate the opposition, and in that event they lacked any depth to their play to employ an alternative strategy. I wish to make it clear and state the for the record that not only were these allegations manifestly false, they amounted to little more than the ramblings of moron unable to learn the lessons that history has taught. I hereby undertake a solemn promise to never again knowingly understate Munster’s ability at this level.

There I said it, and contrary to what many members (notably Munster_by_grace of_God & Jimchris) of this website may believe, the words did not stick in my throat, or more accurately, my keyboard. I have no axe to grind with Munster, after all my great grandfather was from Cork! No I just got it wrong, plain and simple, and I am happy to put my hands up and admit it. In reality my predictions this season have been pathetic. If Alan Sugar was running a bookies and I was his rugby odds setter, he’d have fired me during the group stages.

I will stop short of admitting the laziness I was accused of last week, but I will confess to extrapolating Ireland’s loss of form in the past 12 months and projecting their failings on to Munster. There is evidence that the Province have built their reputation with a 10 man game, and as a consequence I doubted their ability to realise their aspirations to width. Even more embarrassingly I had largely dismissed the presence of Doug Howlett , Liefiemi Mafi and Rua Tipoki as baubles on an oak tree, my philosophy being that having a Ferrari F1 car on your drive doesn’t make you Kimmi Raikonnen.

Munster were as they have so often have been, imperious and had the game on a string within half an hour. It may be true that Chris Paterson had been kidnapped and replaced with a clone that couldn’t kick a barn door if he was holding the handle, but as the Munster took control their midfield neutered the precocious Ryan Lamb and suffocated his colleagues beyond. Ian Dowling was outstanding in this aspect but as the usual suspects delivered huge performances upfront , it was for me Alan Quinlan that turned in a performance that drew awe inspired admiration. I just wish I could have played one game like that just to know what it feels like to earn that level of respect. It is a constant source of wonder that these blokes do it so often.

As I was clearing the egg off my face, my prediction of a canter for the Ospreys rose up majestically to bite me in the ass. I felt a little less foolish in this as it caught most people out. As you can imagine there has been much wailing and wringing of hands in the Principality. The cruel observers believe the Ospreys humped “Sarries” in the EDF because the Welsh boys were still under influence of Gatland, and that 2 weeks with Lyn Jones had returned them to their old flat ways. The fact of the matter is they did not adapt well to the small pitch, and tried to go wide before they had committed sufficient defenders, where Quinlan had gone at Kingsholm so went Hill, Vyvyan and Chesney at Vicarage Road enabling Saracens to hunt out wide where they enjoyed many kills.

The major worry for The Ospreys ahead of this weekends EDF final was the way Cobus Visagie turned in an old style tight head’s master class that emasculated The Osprey’s pack and brought Duncan Jones not only to his knees, but often his toes. This alone should have prompted Marcel Llofreda to dispatch the Leicester forwards to the scrummage machines for a week. If he did then Leicester may well inflict on the field, the kind of pressure that is building on The Ospreys off the field, as a season that promised so much threatens to deliver the square root of chuff all. Ospreys by 7, see I just can’t help myself.......