How many years can a man grow in an hour and 20 minutes? At quarter to five on Saturday afternoon, Fin Smith, 22, looked awfully young to be leading England’s backline out at Twickenham. Slim, trimmed, and clean shaven, in crisp, freshly pressed whites, look close and you could almost see the lipstick on his cheek from the good-luck kiss his mother gave him before kick-off. Smith had played only seven Tests as a replacement, and a handful of minutes, coming into this game. He stood, flipping the ball from one hand to the other to burn off a little of his nervous energy as he waited for the referee to blow the whistle.
At half past six, the camera closed in on him again, 30 yards or so off from the same spot. He was standing over the ball as it sat on the tee, 15 metres or so out from the posts, muddy, bloody, sweaty, and bruised. It had been a hell of a match, a twisting, turning, helter-skelter set-to, and as Smith stood, drawing together his thoughts before the winning kick, he looked as if he had aged a couple of years and a couple of dozen caps. Le Crunch will do that to you.
