Nathan Hines: Bloody losing monkey off our back

THE first emotion is relief. Thanks be to God we've finally done it. Thank heavens that the work we've put in and the self-belief we've managed to hang on to despite a rocky few months has a tangible reward.

The Calcutta Cup is ours, we're thrilled. To get this bloody losing monkey off our back just means so much to all of us. We can take a deep breath now and say, "OK, we knew we were capable of winning big victories and there's the proof".

From the early minutes of the match I always felt we were going to win this game. It was just the way the ball was bouncing for us, the bit of luck that stayed with us throughout the afternoon. There was one Hugo Southwell kick that really summed this up. He probably over-hit it and it looked like it was going out on the full. I was running after it going "sit, for Christ's sake, sit" and it did. Instead of going all the way back, there was a lineout in England territory. A simple bounce made my spirits soar.

So we had a small bit of good fortune but we also had huge amounts of aggression. When we were stuck in our own corner midway through the first half it didn't look the best. England were piling on the pressure at that stage and Rory Lamont had just been stretchered off so it wasn't a good time for us. But we dug in, we blasted them backwards eventually, we completely overpowered them and the roar of the crowd when we got ourselves out of trouble was like music to our ears.

We had Andy Robinson with us during the week and he gave good tips on what England might do at defending lineouts and the mauls and a few other things. England created very little and unlike in our previous three games we gave them nothing. No soft tries, no terrible blunders on our part that made their lives easier. Everything they got they worked for. And to be honest, they didn't get a lot. The end was tense right enough but we closed out the game well, we had them pinned back. They knew they were going nowhere. We did all these pick 'n' go's to wind the match down. They take a lot out of you but they were the right thing to do. I kept looking at the clock. Three minutes to go: we're close now. Two minutes to go: nearly there. One minute: it's as good as over. With about 45 seconds left they got the ball and they kicked it away. It was a brain explosion. The whistle came straight after. Sweet.

Physically, it was tough going. How could it be anything but a battle against a pack the size of England's? Myself and Andrew Sheridan had a bit of a thing going on during the game. Don't know if you noticed but there were words exchanged, there's a bit of an edge. Referee Jonathan Kaplan had to step in a time or two to stop it but that was OK. All's fair in rugby war.

Maybe I was winding him up. Just a little, perhaps. The first time I tackled him he knocked the ball on. I got up off the ground and patted him on the head. "You've knocked on there, Andrew," I said, with, on reflection, a hint of sarcasm in my voice. "Bad luck mate." I may also have done a little whoop which I'm guessing didn't go down too well since Kaplan came over to me and said "hey, leave it".

The second half saw another coming-together. After they conceded that penalty within a minute of the restart I gave him another pat. "Nice one, big fella." He came at me with something that you wouldn't want to print in a family newspaper but I can't really blame him to be honest. We've all been there, after all. This time Kaplan got more stern. "There's enough pressure in this game without you making things by chirping." Fair point.

We stayed away from each other after that.

So we're up and running. It might have taken us a while but the win has come at last and we want another. We go to Italy now. No point beating England if you're going to lose in Rome. From today the celebrations end and things will get deadly serious again.