Six Nations 2026: Bewildering, bewitching, bonkers – Scotland’s perfect day against England

Standing pitchside in the aftermath of Scotland’s bazooka proving too much for England’s pop gun, Sione Tuipulotu, a captain stepping back from the abyss, spoke of the trauma that his players went through after the debacle in Rome a week ago. A week which now feels like a year.

Now, in a happier place, he could never remember hurting after a game like he hurt after Italy last weekend. He «internalised the pain» of that defeat. Then he let it loose on England.

Tuipulotu made his point like a man who had been through therapy. In the mind’s eye you could imagine him stretched out on a couch with the sound of gently lapping water playing in his ears. Better that than listening to the torrents of stick about his team and the wounding chat about his head coach.

Gregor Townsend watched what he said, later on.

Maybe part of him wanted to vent at all the doubters, which was just about everybody outside his bubble. He didn’t go there.

Maybe there was an urge to gloat after the 31-20 triumph, but he resisted.

Townsend was stony-faced. No smile, no jocularity, no sense that he had just won a major victory. If you didn’t know better you’d swear he was the losing coach, not the renaissance man.

He didn’t articulate it, but this has been a savagely bruising week for him. He now has redemption, for a week. He has all the evidence he needs that his team, on their best days, when their sense of outrage and vengeance is high, can be truly outstanding.

Getting themselves to fever pitch when there’s cordite in the air is one thing. Getting there when all you can smell are roses is quite another.

Having used that terrible experience of Rome as fuel for Murrayfield, what will get them to the dark place – as the prop Pierre Schoeman might put it – before Wales in Cardiff on Saturday?

That’s the next Test, the next must-win.

Scotland travel to Cardiff as hot favourites, but without three players from the Calcutta Cup. Victory has come at a cost.

Jack Dempsey, belligerence on legs, Jamie Ritchie, a warrior in his 40 minutes, and Jamie Dobie, class in every area after a rough experience in Rome, are not going to make it to Wales.

Dempsey and Ritchie might not be seen again in the championship.

Townsend could have done without those blows, but he’s used to the carnage of Six Nations rugby. He also has decent deputies in store for the trip to the Principality Stadium.

One win must become two or else the significance of what happened at Murrayfield goes away like so many of the other victories over England. Unless it’s properly built upon then it’s a one-off and everybody connected with this team is fed up with one-offs.

All the self-doubt Scotland owned now transfers to England. It’s a heavy burden. It’s said, endlessly, that Scotland get up for England more than they get up for any other opposition. We can debate the accuracy of that until the cows come home.

The relevant question about this England team, and the ones that have come before them in a run of five defeats in six against the Scots is why don’t they get up for Scotland?

The dawning of reality should be close at hand now for England players – ‘maybe it’s not you, Scotland, maybe it’s us’.

Tuipulotu said on Friday his team were desperate and he wanted to see that desperation visited upon England. He got his wish.

We know Scotland had this kind of performance deep within them – there’s been plenty, if fleeting, evidence of their class – but what we didn’t know, what we could not take on trust, was their ability to deliver this kind of controlled fury for 80 minutes.

But they did. This was as dominant a Scotland performance as you’ll get over England, a thing of thunder and beauty, class and heart, ruthlessness and intelligence. All those combined Calcutta Cup teams that people did pre-match – Scotland had an average of three or four players in a joint side – were ripped to shreds. A new version would have more tartan than a shortbread factory.

It was a game that threw up dozens of cameos to ponder, not just the creation and execution of the Scotland tries but the bare-knuckle stuff they delivered in defence. To a man, starting team and bench, they stood up.

Stood up for themselves, for their coach, for their supporters.

With each demonic play in defence during that second half you got a snapshot of how difficult this past week has been for them and how they were prepared to do anything – anything – to make it better.

There was a surreal moment on a storied day, not Matt Fagerson’s charge-down of George Ford’s late ill-fated drop goal nor the offload to Jones, nor the way Jones ate up road on the way to scoring his second of the day and his eight in eight Calcutta Cups.

It wasn’t the fact Scotland had now secured a bonus point in a game they were supposed to lose or that they were 18 points clear of a heavily fancied England, as trippy as that was.

No. What was unusual was the lack of weakness out there in the middle and up there in the stands, the total absence of Scottish wobbles and Scottish fatalism, which can be a local speciality at times.

Watching this team lose, or threaten to lose, big leads in games in recent seasons breeds a certain worry. The mental implosions, the victories left behind them.

There was none of that this time. Even as England came piling forward, the old familiar fretfulness didn’t exist. You knew, as much as you could possibly know, that Scotland were winning this. That feeling of near certainty – it was an odd feeling.

England had their moments when chasing, but Scotland met each and every one head on. It was raw and it was special. Ambitious rugby is in the DNA of this team. How could it not be when Finn Russell, utterly brilliant, is its creative heartbeat?

Against England, it was married with fire. Scotland haven’t always got the balance right – too much rugby and not enough dog – but it was inch-perfect on Saturday. Riotously so.

The psychology of this team is something that would make Sigmund Freud swoon. Gloriously unpredictable and, at times, impossible to read, they are wildly entertaining – bewildering, bewitching, brilliant. This was their perfect day.