Glasgow had no chance of winning against Munster on Saturday; the men in red could never have allowed it.
The electricity of Thomond Park flowed with a current even more vigorous than has come to be expected from one of the sport's most iconic venues in Munster’s 38-17 win, a week after the sudden passing of coach Anthony Foley.
If ever a team was energised by a single man, if ever a region was inspired by one of their own, this was the manifestation of it. It was a reminder of sport's ability to express an emotion, to personify a spirit, and to connect a community.
If lives are judged by the impact they have on others’, then the 26,000 in Limerick confirmed the immeasurable worth of Foley's 42 years.
The elusive No10
The all-round fly half is a diamond-like commodity: similarly expensive on a gram-for-gram basis, only rarer. Racing 92 made an ageing Dan Carter rugby’s highest-paid player on around £1.3m a year for this reason.
There are a number of boxes to tick for a fly half, but satisfying one seems to have an opposite effect on those that remain. Some can kick but not tackle, or tackle but not attack. Some can attack or show brilliance intermittently but can’t tackle or kick.
Herein lies the difficulty of finding the right man to fill England's number 10 shirt.
Much has been said regarding Danny Cipriani's omission, but international rugby only calls for the champagne player if he can do everything else on top.
George Ford and Owen Farrell can attack, defend and kick. Ford has a smidgen more of the bubbly stuff about him, but Farrell's boot is more trustworthy.
As sad as it may seem being denied the opportunity to see Cipriani chip over and skirt around the brick walls of the southern hemisphere this autumn, his defensive frailties and lack of a goal-kicking role for Wasps mean that he is probably further away from international consideration than widely assumed.
Tigers find roar
Richard Cockerill called for a ban on artificial pitches after his Leicester side were humbled north of the border last week. Perhaps Cockerill prefers the levelling effect of the groggy pitches of yesteryear, able to mask the Tigers’ recent decline.
Though the aura of Martin Johnson's Leicester is gone, Welford Road remains a challenging destination for visitors, not least due to the energising effect of the vocal home support. Travelling sides still shudder in the cramped changing rooms, if only due to their frosty characterisation of a Victorian public toilet.
Historically, stories would abound of training sessions that regularly boiled over into fist-fights, with bare-knuckle clashes said to be as commonplace as under East End railway arches.
Leicester are currently a little light on class and scrabble for the dark ingredients that so effectively underpinned previous successes. However, they found at least some of these on a biting Sunday evening to dispatch Racing 92, the reigning French champions, 27-17.