Forty-two points in the first half. Let that settle for a moment. Against a Banshees side with enough spirit to make the second period genuinely uncomfortable, Park played rugby of a quality that, frankly, has been waiting to arrive. It arrived in some style.

The architect of much of the devastation was one Bricteux, a backrow with a distinctly Gallic approach to the game — a joie de vivre that a certain Toulouse number eight might recognise, and a taste for the tryline that border on the compulsive. A hat-trick of tries from the loose forward position is not to be sniffed at in any company; at club level, it amounts to a statement of intent. One should note, however, that Bricteux's enthusiasm for the contest did not confine itself to the scoring end. At the breakdown he was, at times, the sort of nuisance that opposing nines have nightmares about. A talent, then, but one that will need channelling.

The old distinction between forwards and backs has always been somewhat reductive, but here it held a pleasant truth. The forwards provided the ingredients — relentlessly, intelligently — and the backs decorated the cake. Chrisos opened the scoring after hooker Medero demonstrated that the modern front-row operator is no longer content merely to scrummage and be thanked for it. The hooker's break to set up the first score was a reminder of a versatility that has been growing by the week; his second-half contribution included a 60-metre effort — his second such score of the season — and a sharp finish to a cutout pass from Nara that showed real footballing awareness. Not bad for a man whose primary obligation remains to point in the right direction at the set-piece.

Geiser's try was everything one hopes for from a prop when he finds himself in the vicinity of the whitewash — low, direct, purposeful, and entirely without apology. A short dive that would have made a seasoned loosehead proud. Meanwhile Hudson, operating from the base of the scrum with the quiet menace of a man who has done this before, helped himself to two tries through the kind of sniping runs that only reveal themselves on the second watching of a video. Blink and you will miss them; Hudson evidently does not blink.

Laux was quick to exploit the quick tap wherever the referee allowed it, putting Park on the front foot with a decisiveness that set the tempo early. In the second row, DRiscoll was an engine of perpetual motion — a player who will look for the offload first, which is commendable, but who is equally unafraid to become the obstacle rather than the architect. He gave Park consistent go-forward when the occasion demanded something more direct. And somewhere in the unglamorous machinery of it all was Debacker, doing the dark arts that the scoresheets never record and the highlights packages never show. Rugby people know the type; they are the first names the coaches thank and the last the reporters mention. Consider this a correction.

Finnegan, standing over the kicking tee with something approaching the clinical authority of a Ramos at his best, converted six from six despite a wind that made no pretence of co-operation. The points column appreciated the effort enormously.

But let us not end on a caveat when the headline deserves its moment. Lincoln Park, in that first half, were magnificent. When they play like that, there are not many sides in this league equipped to live with them.