LONG READ With terrestrial TV under pressure how did the pundits fare on the opening weekend of the Six Nations?

No shortage of mighty performances on the opening Six Nations weekend; the likes of Dan Biggar, Sam Warburton and Brian O’Driscoll – as the best always do – rising to match the moment. And, make no mistake, with the terrestrial broadcasters, supposedly, staring into the portals of the slaughterhouse, a signature statement of excellence was as much a priority for the BBC and ITV last weekend as it was for Scotland and Ireland.

ITV – boldly – opened their coverage of France/Wales on Friday night with a verse from the seventeenth century, English, Restoration poet, John Dryden. It wasn’t unwelcome, you understand, but it was different. Likewise their decision to conduct a pre-game autopsy on Welsh rugby while the ‘corpse’ was pulling on its socks down in the dressing room; again, hardly an irrelevance but not much of an appetiser. If Wales were this crap, why were we wasting a precious Friday night?

Jamie Roberts pulled no punches. ‘The system’s failed the players,’ he said. He meant the entire Welsh structure but given how Wales ended up performing on the night, it applied equally to Warren Gatland’s selection and gameplan. ‘The gainline is the key,’ added Dan Biggar and so it was. Wales got nowhere near it. Admittedly, it wasn’t the toughest game to call but when your Welsh pundits not only signal what’s going to happen but why – even before a ball’s been kicked – all you can assume is that they’ve a better grasp of their onions than the Welsh coaching team.

Stuck in the middle as a good hooker should be, Benjamin Kayser looked like a man holding four aces with a couple more up his sleeve. Effortlessly fluent and, clearly, plugged foursquare into the French matrix, he’s become a priceless addition to the studio analysis; moreover, his description of Damian Penaud as ‘a headless chicken’ and Louis Bielle-Biarrey as ‘the alien’ was exactly what you wanted to hear from a cauliflower-eared ex-forward.

In the stadium, the pre-recorded interview with Warren Gatland appeared to be lopped halfway through his second answer. But then, once you’d heard him recite his  ‘no fear; siege mentality; enjoy the occasion’ litany, there  presumably wasn’t much else worth listening to. Strangely, there was no pre-game coach chat with the French. True, Fabian Galthié does like to pretend he speaks no English but given Shaun Edwards would happily talk rugby with the nearest hatstand, this was a shame. Shaun with his fur up ahead of a scrap is television gold-dust.

‘Flats’ is a pearl, a walking one-liner who offers both insight and a prop forward’s cheerful cynicism, both of which are utterly infectious.

In commentary, ITV were in the hands of Miles Harrison. Like a good surgeon, he has a seaman’s grip and a lacemaker’s fingers; to wit, a vice-like handle on the narrative and an eagle eye for the details. He also has the priceless ability to know when to shut up and let the occasion, or the experts alongside him, take over. Quite simply, he’s a benchmark broadcaster.

Shane Williams – bless him – sounded like a man who was watching the game through the fingers of his gloves. You sympathised. But, fortunately, the earthy David Flatman was also on board and, as a neutral observer, was somewhat less squeamish and much happier to stick the boot in. ‘Wales look as though they’re going through an aerobic exercise,’ he said, as yet another Welsh attack evaporated into thin air. ‘Flats’ is a pearl, a walking one-liner who offers both insight and a prop forward’s cheerful cynicism, both of which are utterly infectious. ‘Naughty,’ he said, as Romain N’tamack tried to decapitate Ben Thomas with a cheap shoulder. And, indeed, it was.

In the obvious aftermath, the excellent Dan Biggar summed up the context of Wales’ latest disaster perfectly. ‘Next week in Italy is going to be the biggest match in Welsh rugby in 15-20 years,’ he said, a bell which tolled throughout the media all weekend. Thus do the better broadcasters set agendas rather than follow them, one of many reasons why Biggar has rapidly become such a class act.

Unlike ITV on Friday night, the BBC in Edinburgh on Saturday afternoon had all its boots on the ground and the energy, as ever, was all the better for it, from the cut and thrust in a cosy, yet combative, studio to the colourful and intricately woven overlays of players and supporters gearing up for the game. Texture was everything.

The star turn was John Barclay. Very quietly, the former Scottish captain has become a consummate broadcaster, never lost for a relevant observation and, on this occasion,  forensic in his analysis of Scotland’s issues with defence and discipline.

A petunia in a vegetable patch of hairy-arsed forwards, Gabby Logan offered cohesion and chemistry in equal measure. Martin Johnson’s pragmatic, no bullshit approach to game analysis will never, ever outlive its supposed sell-by date and Sergio Parisse’s twice-proffered warning to his fratelli about the first 20 minutes proved tellingly prescient.

But the star turn was John Barclay. Very quietly, the former Scottish captain has become a consummate broadcaster, never lost for a relevant observation and, on this occasion, forensic in his analysis of Scotland’s issues with defence and discipline. His pre-shot VT with Scotland’s co-captains, Rory Darge and Finn Russell, was both an entertainment and an education.

And not surprisingly because the pre-shot/pre-cut VT is a BBC speciality, blending, as it so often does, the history, the flavour and the context of the occasion. The interlacing of English and Italian commentary on the seminal game between these two sides 25 years ago was a delight, likewise Kenny Logan’s rueful reminiscence about under-inflated balls. ‘Who’d be married to a kicker?’ said Mrs Logan, as the director cut back to the studio.

The coverage – or at least the timings of the replays – took a while to keep pace with the brisk, opening tempo but, once up to speed, they were spot on. The normally imperturbable Gregor Townsend thumping the scenery and offering a silent, Elizabethan expletive as Scotland muffed their lines was priceless; so too the Italian lady in the cheap seats roaring down the lens as Nacho Brex burgled a score for Italy. I very nearly dropped my peanuts. She was, comfortably, the scariest thing on view all weekend.

In commentary, the almost arid Andrew Cotter again proved the perfect foil to the almost symbiotic Chris Paterson and Sam Warburton, whose line about a rare Duhan van der Merwe offload – ‘in days gone by, he might have gone macho, there’ – showed just how sharp an eye Warburton has for the detail of a player’s progression. The three of them gelled like glue in an almost flawless production.

We should give thanks for Brian O’Driscoll. To say he’s developed into as decent a broadcaster as he was a player might be stretching it but that’s simply a reflection of his genius in a jockstrap.

In Dublin for Ireland and England, ITV finally pitched up in person with Eddie Jones the supposed signature signing, despite the fact he’d come dressed as a garden gnome. In deference to his debut, he was tossed the first question and gave an answer that was roughly 4.7 seconds long. Presumably, ITV aren’t paying him by the word. Indeed, the only genuine insight he offered was that Tom Curry wears orange boots and Ben Curry wears black boots, this and the somewhat strange advice to England’s new captain, Maro Itoje, ‘not to worry about the referee’. These days, surely, managing the whistle is arguably a captain’s most pressing priority.

Unlike the BBC, the ITV build-up was a wall-to-wall talking shop, so perhaps we should give thanks for Brian O’Driscoll. To say he’s developed into as decent a broadcaster as he was a player might be stretching it but that’s simply a reflection of his genius in a jockstrap. Gloved up with a microphone, he is eloquent, insightful, impish and wastes not a word.

Asked about Ireland’s preference for Sam Prendergast over Jack Crowley, he said the feeling was that ‘his ceiling is a little bit higher’. Pressed on whether Andy Farrell might be texting Simon Easterby backstage, his guffaw spoke volumes and, at the end, when pushed on England’s performance, his reply – ‘good teams play for 40 minutes; great teams play for 80’ – summed up the entire match in a mere eleven words. He’s an absolute gem.

In commentary, Nick Mullins, as ever, caught the mood – ‘it’s become a meat and potatoes sort of game, hasn’t it?’ – while, alongside, Ben Kay was simply peerless. We were barely five minutes in and he was already drawing our attention to how Marcus Smith was flighting his cross field kicks on a slightly lower trajectory than usual to better catch the Irish off guard. I’m not sure you can get much sharper than that.

Kay’s ability to highlight the pertinent moment in a multi-phase attack is almost uncanny. Likewise his analysis of the set-piece. Or the kicking game. Or anything else. It’s almost as though he watched the match yesterday and is sitting there reading out handwritten notes. Effectively, it’s instant video analysis. Alongside him, Gordon D’Arcy caught the mood and turned in one of his best performances on a microphone.

So, if you were picking a Lions’ broadcast team on the back of the opening weekend, where would you go? Rather you than me. But, no question, if you put together the best of both ITV and the BBC, you’d have a world-beating package. Would there be space on the plane for Eddie Jones as The Australian Angle? On this showing, arguably not. But when asked how it felt to be on the broadcast side of the fence in a Six Nations, his answer – ‘cold, mate’ – was perhaps the most heartfelt one-liner of a memorable, opening weekend. Enjoy these guys while you can, people, and roll on week two.