Six Nations, Scotland vs England: Dylan Hartley keeps it all under control

The picture of interior calm was certainly scrambled, as it will be in the months ahead

The England captain, Dylan Hartley is congratulated by teammate George Ford after the forwards won a penalty at the scrum against Scotland (Getty)

Eddie Jones often throws out the Aussie term of endearment “mate” when he doesn’t want to agree with your assessment, or is reluctant to answer your question.

“What do you think of England’s rugby academy system?” “Not my responsibility, mate.”

“What advice would you give your last squad, Japan?” “I’ve moved on, mate.”

And, late on Saturday night: “What do you say to the fans who want to see something more than pragmatism in their national rugby team?” “I tell you, mate, fans are pragmatic too. If we tossed the ball around today and we get beat 17-16, no one says: ‘oh, they played wonderful rugby...’ ”

Jones also alluded in the aftermath of the most dour Calcutta Cup in recent memory to a “little English boy with his beanie” hat, whom he saw and heard yelling “come on, England!” in the teeth of Scottish noise, when the team had disembarked from their coach at Murrayfield. “His voice was being drowned out. He kept on going; a bit like us today.”

It was for the sake of that young individual that you hoped there will be more colour and less monochrome in the months and years which lie ahead for this incarnation of red-rose rugby. It was why you offered up a silent prayer for Dylan Hartley and the absorbing sub-plot he had provided to an occasion which was about Jones getting under way with a victory.

There was a moment near the end, when Hartley was substituted, which somehow encapsulated the excellent lack of pretension in this fascinating flawed protagonist with the discipline problem. The pantomime villain departed to a chorus of Scottish boos and was offered one of the vast thermal coats the coaching staff had been inviting departing players to step into all afternoon. Hartley marched straight past the unfurled duvet, on to one of the water-bottle dispenser bins, opened the lid, found it empty, so ambled to the bench and turned his attention back to the fray – shouting in its general direction.

Hartley explained late on Saturday night that he had “tried not to get caught up in all the bullshit on the side, about leading the team out, the introductions to the team” as he embarked on this most improbable England captaincy. It is his way of stripping out the confected part of the sport which makes him so absorbing – especially to those for whom the finer points of a grimly defensive battle are all a little inconsequential. The beanie hat boy would have approved, you had to think.You also really had to feel that the waters won’t always be as becalmed as this for Hartley.

Sir Clive Woodward wrote vividly last week of his desperation, as English coach, to be in and out of the Firth of Forth as fast the coach would carry the team, yet this was hardly Bannockburn revisited. The reek of the Caledonian Brewery hops invaded English senses most of all. The noise was muted. There was such an animated expression on Hartley’s face when he declared on Saturday night, “I wasn’t nervous, what was there to be nervous about?” that you knew he was telling it as it was.

He was too busy giving all of himself to an opportunity he thought had passed him by. The evidence was better heard than seen, through the ref link which captured the captain’s jabbering at team-mates in the scrum. “I’m probably talking to myself; that’s what it is,” he reflected afterwards. “I just have mental cues for myself and if other people listen, it’s fine...”

There certainly did seem to be moments when conversation was one-way. Joe Marler seemed not to be taking the blindest notice as they stood together in their own 22, both of them blowing, Hartley talking, in the dusk.

There was fleeting evidence of Scottish attempts to goad him – a clear strike at his arm near the touchline in the first half. But he was prepared to accept that the finger poked into his face was not wilfully placed there. “Er, no... I think someone was getting the ball, they swiped for it [gestures across his face] and I was a bit miffed. It was nothing. At the time I was a bit, like, ‘Grrrr,’ but it was nothing...”

The picture of interior calm was certainly scrambled, as it will be in the months ahead, when England appeared to concede 10 metres for dissent, in the second half. Hartley’s complaining seemed to have caused this. But he was in control, not least at the line-out, from which his throwing was clean, efficient and consistent. When there was niggle, involving Owen Farrell and Mike Brown, he seemed to be the one trying to sort it out.

The same applied to the complicated question of which of the three vice-captains Jones has installed he should nominate as captain to referee John Lacey when he was called from the field. “Yeah, it was a bit confusing,” Hartley related. “Because it was in my head that we have three. I just said, ‘If you want to talk to anyone up front, Billy’s there – if you can get some words out of him. He’s probably finding his lungs because he played a hell of an 80.” [Lacey] said: ‘I need someone’ and I said ‘Owen’, just to save Billy’s lungs.”

He is an individual of imperfections, just making it all up as goes along – and that’s why Hartley may provide more fascination than anything Jones’s squad summons up across the course of this championship.

“I’m very lucky to be at the head of it,” he said, before heading out to board the coach, with beers at Pennyhill Park awaiting. “I didn’t take anything for granted. I closed my eyes at the anthems, I sucked it all up and it was a hell of an experience. And I got through it, didn’t I? I survived! I live on for one more week! On to the next one...”