March 17, 1990, when Scotland won the grand slam, beating England 13-7 at Murrayfield. It was a day when both teams, unbeaten that season, were vying for the title, all the marbles in one grab.
Few gave the Scots a chance, even though they weren't half a bad side if you look back at the names. Hastings, Armstrong, Calder, Jeffrey, Sole for starters.
England were not particularly popular, partly for historical reasons, but the prevailing view up north was that they figured they had only to trot on to the park, do the business and swan off down south with the loot.
Scotland's captain David Sole walked on to Murrayfield, instead of the traditional jog out from the tunnel. The team's slow walk raised the roof even before a soaring rendition of Flower of Scotland, before the home team hoed into the job.
If New Zealanders sometimes struggle to understand how British audiences can delight in what might seem essentially ordinary rugby in technical or skill terms, they miss the point. It's about the soul of the contest, and the occasion, and that day had it in spades.
So can the Scots summon the spirits again tonight?
It's not Murrayfield; it's not the Six Nations; but it is rather important.
The Scots blew it against Argentina a week ago. The draw has thrown them a lifeline, but with strings attached.
Only an eight-point winning margin is needed, which might not be much on most normal occasions. This not being a particularly normal night, it sounds like quite a lot, all things considered.
England won't be helped by the absence of two of their touchline gofers, kicking coach Dave Alred and fitness adviser Paul Stridgeon. They have been suspended by their own people for their part in the swappa-ball ruse during the win over Romania last weekend. England's move was smart, getting in first before the International Rugby Board blazers stepped in.
Result? A warning as to their future conduct.
Did Alred and Stridgeon know the rules around the balls? If not, they had no place on the touchline.
Contrast that with the junk decision to clobber Alesana Tuilagi with a US$10,000 ($13,000) fine for wearing a mouthguard with a sponsor's name on it.
Tuilagi was certainly naive, maybe thought he'd get away with it, probably assumed no one would study his gob that carefully. But US$10,000? Think butterflies and wheels.
The Englishmen's actions amounted to cheating, albeit at the lower end of the scale. How a mouthguard can affect a game is something for great minds to ponder. A slap, a warning, even a $500 fine to donate to a charity would have done for the big Leicester wing. It sounds suspiciously as if the IRB scale is totally out of whack.
Whenever the IRB scratches its collective head and wonders why it gets rough publicity, it should think of this. It'll give them a reasonable clue.
