France v Ireland:  Johnny Watterson hears from two players who have drunk at the source of vintage French rugby

When Donal Spring left Ireland to play for the French side Bagneres in 1982, his first game was against Toulouse. Amateur days. Playing for fun in the South of France had its appeal for the Irish secondrow. Life could wait.

In those days Bagneres had a population of around 10,000. When the town played against Tarbes or Lourdes that same number of people would pocket their claxons and arrive for the match. Each weekend, in each municipal ground around the south of the country, the drama unfolded.

For the French it was a way of life. Farther south in Perpignan they had their bullfighting too. But every district had its blood sport and where it wasn't bullfighting it was rugby.

The municipalities provided the grounds. The teams would arrive and invariably the visitors would get thrashed, physically and on the scoreboard. Content with the hammering, they would depart slapping their thighs in anticipation of the return match.

Rugby was the main sport, soccer in its shadow. The passion and combat appealed to French sensibilities. Like the buzz of Croke Park, so the French lived and breathed their game.

"After a couple of weeks my first game was against Toulouse. The ball kicked off," says Spring. "I went for it, as you would, and got hit by a train. It was a 'welcome to France' reception.

"Away from home in those days, you couldn't even depend on the referee to defend you. At home you were a hero. A lot of nasty stuff went on. There was one set of rules in French rugby and another for Five Nations rugby.

"The French players had to actually psyche themselves down for international matches. Internationals weren't half as dangerous as club matches. They grew up with the notion that away from home they'd get physically beaten. Consequently, the concept developed that the French were bad playing away from home."

And yet, though many of the worst excesses have always been part of the French game, the guiding attitude has never been anything other than attractive, skilful rugby.

"While it was very physical, the whole emphasis was on developing skills," says Spring. "They played mini-rugby before we even heard of it. They rotated players every week regardless of what position they were good in. At the end prizes were given out for the most skilful team that played the best rugby. It wasn't school-based at all and there was no philosophy of fair play or anything like that."

Aidan McCullen, who moved from Leinster last season to play in Toulouse alongside Trevor Brennan, enjoys the contrast in philosophy and execution.

The flanker initially went to France to play for Dax as a student and it was there, aged 21, he was offered his first professional contract.

"Here the players smoke, they drink. They don't see it as that bad a thing. Little and often is their attitude," says McCullen. "For example, we get fed at training, and in the ground there is a fridge full of those ice-cream bars, Magnums. At home (in Ireland) they'd have filled their bags with about 10 of them.

"Here they're not like that. Occasionally they'd take one. They don't overdo it. A smoke with coffee is perfectly acceptable or a four o'clock pastry with a coffee to keep the blood sugar up. They look after themselves."

When McCullen arrived in Dax, his schedule was one tailored by the Ireland under-21 set-up and the team's fitness instructors. Bemused, he realised the players at Dax were only then getting to grips with weight and power training.

"I was doing power work at the club and they were looking at me as though I had two heads," he says. "Here in Toulouse they do loads and loads of running. It's all aerobic because that's what their game is based on. Probably Toulouse is unique.

"The emphasis is on the physical skills, sidestepping, running. The physical trainers here are Olympic athletes, a runner and a high jumper. They'd look at you and say something like, 'Your right calf is weaker than your left'."

The spark that made Jean Pierre Rives and Serge Blanco iconic figures and torch carriers for the French brand is the same one that produces the Gallic shrug, the bemused pout. Scotland's thrashing of them last week is shocking only in that it was Scotland, not that the French failed to turn up.

"They are probably susceptible to underestimating. That happens everyone," says Spring. "Last year against Wales, they thought they had the game over. At times they can get too casual and when things start to go wrong they are not great at stopping the rot. But when they are going well, they are phenomenal.

"There is a huge emphasis on skills all the way through. Referees always gave advantage to the guy trying to do something. The benefit of the doubt was always given to the guys trying to play rugby. In Ireland they would have been more strict and rigid."

McCullen's observations are of a nation curiously fascinated by the scrum and of backline players who all try to play like Brian O'Driscoll.

Toulouse could pluck a prop from the third team and he could hold the scrum in a Heineken European Cup game even if he couldn't pass the ball, tackle or run. The players work hard to develop a complete game and are encouraged to play what is in front of them even when a definite strategy has been agreed.

French flair can be a misnomer. Repetition, emphasis on skills and permission to break out of the mould when opportunity knocks give a strong impression of spontaneity.

"They play with their heads up," says McCullen. "Watching the video after a match, a player might be asked why he did something when team instructions were to do something else. He just says, 'Well, I thought I had a gap here, it didn't come off'. The coach will take a look and say, 'Okay'.

"The backs can do the flair. But like Drico (O'Driscoll) they make the big hits too and scratch for the ball on the ground. They have several strings to their bows. They play what's in front of them. Heads up all the time."

The physical nature of the forward play and the running made both Spring and McCullen bigger, stronger players. Both bought into the life in France too. McCullen is fluent in French and German. Spring too speaks the language. Such involvement is important to the French. The rugby is not separate from the lifestyle, and for outsiders, accepting the whole package is part of being a team player.

"Take someone like Trevor (Brennan)," says McCullen. "He's really respected here in Toulouse by everyone. Trevor has bought a house here. He's down in his bar. He's settled. They love that and respect him for it because by doing that he has respected their culture, their French way of life. That is hugely important."

Most club players in the South are recruited locally.

"Lads working on farms who are good players," says McCullen.

French wing and centre Xavier Garbajosa and fullback Clement Poitrenaud were both harvested from the hinterland. The Sale backrow Sebastien Chabal, who has been left out of Bernard Laporte's squad, is from the Bordeaux wine region.

The sports paper L'Equipe used to run a long list of the hearings for players who were sent off during club games. On television when the match results were being broadcast, teams that managed a rare win away from home were given an asterisk. From it all has emerged the team Southern Hemisphere sides fear most, a strong, unified team that encourages individuality.

"They have very high expectations of themselves," says Spring. "They believe they can win any match."

Ireland won't bend that attitude. As Spring did over 20 years ago, Ireland too will receive a "French reception".