Their crown of destiny seemed to be slipping. Munster, whether paralysed by nerves or nervous exhaustion, sat back alarmingly in the second half and yet, from somewhere deep down in that bottomless well of their passion, they found the spirit and the tackles to hold out and take the Heineken European Cup for the first time.

The scenes on the field were predictably delirious and so were the scenes back home in Limerick’s O’Connell Street, where thousands more were flashed up on the Millennium stadium’s screens to fill in the flat spots when the Munster fans in Cardiff were taking a break. Nobody on earth can begrudge them. They won the trophy they have coveted for so long. On the run of play they deserved to, and they did so as part of an absolutely magnificent occasion in which the status of the tournament rose and the status of the final itself was once again boosted.

It was never any sort of classic match, but that is simply a technical observation. The reservations concerning the greatness of Munster’s achievement must be slightly tempered by the rampaging limitations of a Biarritz team who came to play but then found they were out of the habit. I also found rather disturbing the one-sided nature of Chris White’s performance as referee. He is one of the two top officials in the world, but almost every break went the way of the men in red. Furthermore, in these days when referees are talking to players throughout the whole game, it is grossly unfair in major matches involving French teams if the referee cannot speak their language.

Munster’s heroes were liberally dotted about. Not even their wildest dreamers would claim they have much in the way of attacking brilliance, but Trevor Halstead was wonderfully influential with his strength in the middle of the field. Ronan O’Gara often seemed to let his nerves get the better of him, but it would have taken a man with iced lager in his veins to remain cool throughout and it was with this midfield duo where the composure lay.

In the bad times and for most of the second half, it was Paul O’Connell and the Munster lineout which kept them going. They managed to keep some sort of hold in the scrum and, in the first half especially, when their driving around the fringes was so splendid, the likes of Denis Leamy and Jerry Flannery were marvellous. As an exercise in making the most of things and refusing to be parted with what is almost regarded as a birthright, it was masterly. It will be fascinating to see if some of the desire is now sated — it was clear that the whole experience was draining Munster people on and off the field as the second half drew on and Biarritz came closer and closer.

But never too close for comfort. Biarritz had the man of the match in Imanol Harinordoquy and it was worth the price of the ticket alone to watch his magnificent dexterity. There was some decent driving from the likes of Petru Balan and Census Johnston. Dimitri Yachvili had some fine moments and the class of Philippe Bidabe shone.

Yet the French side are out of the habit of maximising themselves. They have sat back in big games this season. They have not tested their own gas and when they tried to step on the accelerator there was very little there. They had heart but their defending in the first half was dismal and, staggeringly for a French team, the execution behind the scrum was awful.

The truth is that, for a team of their basic talents, Biarritz had Munster there for the taking in the second half. There was the odd Munster drive and there were an awful lot of decisions against Biarritz. But there was no sense that Munster were building for a thunderous conclusion. It was as if both teams had decided to sit back on the ropes so much that they could hardly reach each other to land the punches.

Departures from the script began early when, instead of the expected steaming Munster start, we had an exceptional Biarritz try. It came from a lineout won by Harinordoquy and Jean-Baptiste Gobelet came in from the blind-side wing to set up the play. When the ball came to the left, Bidabe cut through and put Sereli Bobo over in the left-hand corner. He came within millimetres of the touchline, but the touch judge was always feet from the spot and no television replays suggested that the try should have been ruled out.

Munster were then able to establish themselves, first due to their own excellent organisation and driving, and second because they netted a whole succession of breaks from the refereeing. And then there was the vexed question, especially if you were a Basque, of dreadful Biarritz defending. Munster’s two tries came about through schoolboy errors which you would never have expected from arguably the best defensive team in the competition.

Indeed, Biarritz held out well in the face of two relentless sets of Munster attacks. However, when O’Gara chipped ahead after taking a clearance kick, Biarritz stood and watched the ball bounce, and a flick from Anthony Horgan sent O’Connell driving hard into the Biarritz secondary defence. Munster drove on relentlessly and O’Gara put Halstead over towards the left-hand corner.

O’Gara had already kicked a penalty so this converted try put Munster 10-7 ahead, but after 22 minutes Yachvili tied the score with his penalty.

Then came one of the most appalling defensive horrors of the competition, and probably of the century. Munster set up an attacking scrum, albeit with at least one forward pass and a harsh offside against Biarritz. For some unfathomable reason, Bobo wandered over to the open side, leaving an unguarded channel which Peter Stringer sauntered down at his leisure to score. It was 17-10 to Munster at half-time, O’Gara rubbing in the humiliation with a splendid conversion.