As Welsh rugby reflects on one of its darkest days, 19 March marks the 20th anniversary of surely one of its best.

For Wales supporters, it was an ‘I was there’ moment.

Some 74,376 of them were inside what was then the Millennium Stadium – many more claim to have been – and more than twice that figure were in Cardiff city centre to witness a piece of rugby history.

It had been 27 years since Wales won a Grand Slam and no-one expected that wait to end given they had finished last just two years earlier.

But the rugby gods, a new Welsh coach and a swashbuckling team oozing confidence – personified by a certain player’s silver boots and golden tan – combined to pull off the impossible dream.

In the space of just seven weeks, they captured the nation’s imagination. Heavens, even the sun came out on a celestial spring day for the finale against Brian O’Driscoll’s Ireland.

“I don’t think there’s ever been a game like that in the new stadium and I don’t think it will ever be replicated again,” said ex-number eight Ryan Jones.

So as Welsh rugby reflects on a miserable Six Nations, which was rounded off by a thrashing by England, BBC Sport looks back two decades, to the day Wales returned as a force.

‘Show us the Way to Slamarillo?’ read the back page of the News of the World the morning before Wales steamrollered Scotland to set up a shot at the Grand Slam.

It was a play on Tony Christie’s song that had been covered by comedian Peter Kay for Comic Relief days earlier and Wales were determined to paint the town – not just noses – red.

A success starved nation whipped itself into a frenzy. Replica jerseys sold out, the Prince of Wales sent a good luck message and match tickets became as precious as a Wonka golden ticket.

Little wonder that head coach Mike Ruddock opted to keep his players confined to their Vale of Glamorgan base that week.

“The coaches did a great job of keeping us in that bubble and away from all the chaos,” said player of the tournament Martyn Williams.

“It meant we had a really relaxed build-up that week, even if the country was going bonkers.”

Having watched helplessly as three buses crammed with fans passed by without stopping, I walked the three miles into the city centre on match day. It was like a pilgrimage.

A stream of Welsh jerseys swiftly became a throng, that became a crowd, that led to scenes most of us had never before witnessed.

“One of the best parts of playing at home is always the coach journey into Cardiff, but that day was something totally different,” recalled scrum-half Dwayne Peel.

“The red shirts started in Leckwith and by the time we reached the bottom of Cathedral Road, everywhere was full. There was no space anywhere. It was something else and so exciting for us [players].”

Excitement, nerves, pride… this must have been what it was like in the Seventies, except we had never expected this. Even just a few weeks earlier. Not until Paris.

Wins over England and Italy impressed but that second-half comeback against France was the turning point. Now the sense of anticipation was electrifying.

It was also the time of Cwl Cymru, with Welsh rock stars prominent both on and off the field.

Manic Street Preachers and Catatonia were hitting heights while the Stereophonics had reached number one the previous weekend with Dakota. Being Welsh was suddenly, well, cool.

The Welsh Rugby Union (WRU) capitalised by inviting not just one star but three – Katherine Jenkins, Max Boyce and Charlotte Church – on to the pitch before kick-off.

Church’s relationship with centre Gavin Henson had been fodder for the tabloids, though he would later criticise the WRU for also cashing in.

“I had been angry and amazed from the moment I heard about it,” he wrote in his autobiography later that year.

“On the one hand the team management were doing all they could to play down my relationship… to get the media to stick to the rugby.

“On the other they were asking Charlotte to take centre stage before the biggest match we had played for years. It seemed to undermine the management.”

Ruddock, however, had other problems.

Somehow Wales had to keep quiet the news that speedster wing Rhys Williams had torn his calf after scoring twice at Murrayfield, while replacement Hal Luscombe was also unlikely to play.

Gareth Thomas was already out with a broken thumb so the call went to 32-year-old centre Mark Taylor – who had not played wing for six years or more and was without a club after that season – to fill the void.

To deny Ireland time to work on tactics to exploit Taylor, Williams was named in the original team and even went through the facade of warming up on the pitch before kick-off.

The ruse worked so well that it was not until opposite number Denis Hickie made his first tackle that he asked Taylor: “What are you doing here?”

Ireland also had title ambitions and in a full-blooded contest, tensions boiled over.

Second-rows Robert Sidoli and Paul O’Connell scrapped on the ground while Henson later accused O’Driscoll of gouging and hair-pulling.

But amid the furore, centre Tom Shanklin kept his cool to set up one try and – dubiously – claim an assist for another.

“A lot of people forget I set Gethin up for that [opening] try because I lost the ball in contact out wide,” he joked.

“O’Driscoll ripped it from me and it came to Ronan O’Gara but Gethin charged down the kick. So had it not been for me losing that ball… I sort of made Gethin Jenkins.”

That rousing score settled the nerves and Wales steadily edged clear with their wonderful brand of total rugby.

When Shanklin’s burst sent Kevin Morgan clear for a try just before the hour, the fuse was lit.

The sheer effort required threatened to overwhelm some exhausted Wales players as they went down with cramp and two late Irish tries made the strains of Bread of Heaven a little nervy for the final few minutes.

But Wales had done enough to win 32-20, a score that almost flattered Ireland.

“I remember the last five minutes. We knew we had done it and I’ll always remember hearing the crowd signing ‘Grand Slam’s coming home’ – it was spine-tingling. It was the perfect day,” said Shanklin.

The final whistle was met with “the roar of all roars”, as BBC commentator Eddie Butler described it, sparking frenzied scenes inside the stadium which were mirrored wherever in the world a Welsh person was glued to a television.

“I was the one who kicked the ball out of play to end the game,” said Martyn Williams.

“I should have held on to it. It’s probably worth a bit now.”

Michael Owen had taken over the captaincy from the injured Thomas but shared the job of lifting the trophy as Wales claimed their first Six Nations title.

“There were all sorts of feelings at the end. Pride, happiness and a lot of relief,” said Owen.

“We had done so well up to that day that we just didn’t want to let ourselves down.”

It was fitting that the Wales jersey sponsor was a brewery, given that most people’s clothes were drenched in beer by the end of the night.

As the drinks flowed and singing grew more incoherent on a warm spring evening, players were forced to sneak through the kitchen entrance of the Hilton hotel to bypass the hordes en route to the post-match function.

“It probably only hit us what it meant for the country afterwards when we saw the crowds in Cardiff and then [on television] soldiers out in Iraq who were celebrating. That really brought it home,” said Owen.

“Some days later, Phil Bennett (captain of the previous Wales side to win a Grand Slam) said he never thought he would see it again in his lifetime. It was just a great time in our lives.”

Entertainer Max Boyce summed up the long wait for success.

“We’d got used to Grand Slams and Triple Crowns in the 1970s and perhaps we’d forgotten to savour how special they were,” he said.

“So when this one came along it was very, very special indeed.

“You have to lose something to treasure it, to see what it’s really worth. We learnt in 2005 to respect how precious Grand Slams are.”

As Wales revelled in the glow of a rugby renaissance, little could we have imagined Ruddock would depart just 11 months later amid a contract row, as Welsh rugby fortunes resumed their habit of rising and falling like the geography of the land itself.

But for that wonderful March day – and the weeks that followed – Welsh rugby was the envy of the world.

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