Chris Ashton’s Prince Obolensky moment. The bluff wing from Wigan might baulk at being bracketed with an exiled Russian aristocrat, but his glory dash for England last November drew parallels with ‘the Prince’, architect of what was, by common consent, the greatest try yet witnessed at Twickenham. Barely had he broken into the side than he found his life, in 70 ecstatic seconds, changed irrevocably.
Not that you would know it from his own hazy recollection. Ashton has already been forced to relive that second try against Australia, sealed by his crazed 100-yard burst, more times than he can bother to count. But he had better become accustomed to it, for it is no ordinary 23 year-old who, with just four previous international caps to his credit, fashions the type of flourish that inscribes his name in England folklore.
So on this chilly Northampton
afternoon, Ashton settles into a corporate suite at Franklin’s Gardens and imagines himself in the moment once more.
Ben Youngs gathers the turnover ball and sells an outrageous dummy, Courtney Lawes draws the man, and then, well… this is where our young zephyr on the flank comes in, starting off on a sprint to bring 80,000 souls to their feet in noisy acclaim. Was he ever conscious, I wonder, of the fervour all around him?
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