It was not a title achieved by default, for England deservedly won four Six Nations matches, but nor was it claimed with majesty.
Truly, these are not Grand Slam men as was proven, nor do they approach the class of ’03 in status as another Rugby World Cup looms.
England are a middling side in what was a middling championship, streaked with drama but not defined by quality. The southern superpowers rest easy in their beds.
And yet. If there was one feature of the tournament that will have been noted by the rest of the world it is this: that teams from this part of the planet rugby are cussed, hard-nosed and elemental buggers, ones that can by sheer force of will alone confound the form book.
Think Ireland on Saturday (albeit many of us saw them as favourites), think France shedding the white-feather tag placed around their necks by that sensitive coach of theirs, Marc Lièvremont, and, finally, think Italy who caused those emotional wobbles in the first place.