There are some sporting teams whose supporters become part of the act, the momentum, or even the legend. That is rugby’s spirit at its finest, and the 60,000-strong Munster team won the Heineken Cup for the second time in three seasons. They were thoroughly deserving, nervy, imperfect — and they celebrated thunderously.

It may have been hair-raising towards the end with Munster just one kick ahead, and the chance of a sweeping Toulouse attack. But Munster had the ball and the match under control, no spaces appeared in the blue wall, and Paul O’Connell hoisted the cup at the end. Marvellous, and especially when you consider the harshness of their pool games. Declan Kidney, their coach, bows out at the top.

However, you certainly had to be a Munsterman or Munsterwoman to get the full value. Toulouse were not the only ones left feeling pancake-flat. It was never remotely a great game of rugby, or even a good one; there was grievously little skill, flow, or sense of sporting majesty. It all sat uneasily on the shoulders of a great tournament and a great European season as a whole, and the final accolade must be reserved when the champions of the continent turn out to be a team which, as an attacking force, hardly existed.

The basis of the Munster effort lay in a back five of the pack which could not be separated, either with the driving wedge of their forward play or in terms of individual assessment. O’Connell and his magnificent men were too strong, too angry and too knowing in the contact areas, they wolfed their own loose ball and that of Toulouse, they turned Toulouse over whenever the French looked dangerous, and it was as if the playground bully was robbing the fresh-faced kids.

It as all very well picking regal players, and Yannick Jauzion was the most accomplished back on the field by a mile. But Toulouse needed a couple of barking dogs. They were smashed in the contact areas, they never achieved momentum or flow and as such, we never saw a semblance of the essential, if occasional, Toulouse greatness.

If it was an atmospheric occasion, made fascinating by pressure and tension, then it was a shame there were two travesties to mar it. Why on earth the roof of the Millennium stadium needs to be shut on a glorious day for the playing of an outdoor sport, I cannot fathom. It detracts from the atmosphere because it renders all the noise an unrecognisable cacophony.

The other was the refereeing appointment. The IRB admit that in these days of endless preventative refereeing and communication, it is a massive disadvantage to have a referee who speaks the language of only one team. It was a disgrace that the official in such a big game could converse only with Munster. Nigel Owens simply screeched at Toulouse in loud English. No wonder they looked bewildered and no wonder that Guy Noves, the coach, complained at the end.

The position for Munster’s try was set up by a classic case of the referee guessing. Jerry Flannery, as ebullient as ever, drove down the right but suffered a double discomfort as one of his own locks kicked him in the head at the bottom of the ruck and Munster lost control of the ball on the floor.

The referee, suspicions aroused, found a non-existent Toulouse offence, however, and Munster set up a powerful attacking position with Ronan O’Gara’s kick to touch.

At first, despite waves of attack, Munster were repulsed and Denis Leamy appeared to have conceded the position when he drove for the line, only to lose the ball from his fingertips as he dived for the try.

However, at the next scrum after a safe Toulouse heel, Shaun Sowerby produced the most asinine piece of No 8 non-control. He picked up the ball, stood up, dithered and begged to be tackled and was overwhelmed. Munster forced the scrum and after a few more drives Leamy forced his way over under three Munster drivers. O’Gara kicked the conversion, added a penalty awarded against Fabien Pelous in a ruck, and approaching half-time, Munster led by 10-3 and all of the control and shape of Toulouse in the first quarter had become a distant memory.

Early on, the Munster back three had played like terrified rabbits, Jauzion had found space behind the Munster midfield and Jean-Baptiste Elissalde dropped a goal for a Toulouse team which won all the early physical exchanges. That energy had dipped alarmingly.