We may not have got the win but I think we conclusively demonstrated to all the doubters and cynics that we were there on merit. No longer a “small town in Cheshire”, more “those big buggers from up north who can play a bit”.
I’ve remarked more than once about the peculiar psychology of fandom: about how it can take a normal adult – with a pension, wife, two grown-up kids and a dog – and turn him into someone who puts blue gunk in his beard, sings silly songs and gets unreasonably anxious at thirty men running round a field chasing a ball. It can take you from Calvin’s dad to Calvin in a second and with no effort involved[1].
All of which is a probably ham-fisted way of introducing a comment about the first sentence up there: the “we” came entirely automatically, even though I’m not a player, coach, member of staff, owner or in any way part of the entity that took the field. I tried in a couple of previous reports to maintain a detachment between “we” the fans and “they” the team but I couldn’t maintain it. The emotional investment is so high that those guys on the pitch knocking seven bells out of each other can never be “they”. It’s tribalism, pure and simple: “us” versus “them”, Sale versus whoever we’re playing.
And fandom distorts your thinking. I have no illusions about the danger the world faces from climate change – if anything, I’m a fatalist who thinks that it’s probably already too late, that we’ve done irreversible damage and the best we can do now is to ameliorate it. I get that, I get that those in power seem too pig-headed to genuinely want to address the problem and that’s even more depressing. I get that history suggests that disruptive protest is the only way to achieve change…
But there and then, when the Mr Hyde of fandom has ousted the Dr Jekyll of sensible adult, you cheer the protesters being tackled and carted off bodily, you join in the chorus of “Ouanquére, ouanquére” (pardon my French) as they’re manhandled off stage left and right.
For eighty minutes, anyway; when the ref blows the final whistle, the tribalism goes with it; you congratulate or commiserate as appropriate, you share a pint and then you part ways until the next time.
But a remnant remains – an ember – and, when it comes to writing these reports (although I prefer to think of them as “reflections”), I can’t maintain a dispassionate air. I can’t be neutral, and I have no desire to be neutral.[2] But that was never my intent. In all this, I’m trying to express (for myself, if no one else) how it feels to be caught up in that moment, to be a fan, to be passionate about something that is, ultimately, trivial to the non-fan. It’s why you’ll sometimes find little to no detail about actual events in the game – you want that, watch it on the webbytubes – because I want to express how I felt both at the time and after a few days of reflection. I don’t pretend to be a great expert on all the ins-and-outs of tactics and what-have-you, other than what I’ve gleaned by osmosis from the last thirty years watching, but I’ll talk about how it seems to me and, if you see it differently, then let’s chew the fat for a while and waste time talking about things that won’t change the world – because they’re more important than that.
Because that’s what it means to support a club – any club – and long may it stay that way. Because this is the pinnacle and, really, how can you capture the roller-coaster of emotion that you ride on a day like that?
Sorry, I got a bit carried away, there. It happens.
I was having a (fairly lengthy) chat with a couple in the pub on Saturday evening. They were neutrals (Plymouth Albion) and thought that the decision to award van Zyl’s try was the turning point that lost us the game. I see their point but I disagree: there was no single ‘turning point’ as such but buggering up that five-metre lineout when we were two points ahead meant that van Zyl’s try took the game away from us. Had we only been three points behind at that stage, then I think we could have pulled it back. Ten was just too much.
As for whether it should have been awarded, I have some sympathy with that view, since the video replay didn’t look like ‘compelling’ evidence to me but neither did the replay that led to Akker’s try being awarded. Swings and roundabouts, Rodney, swings and roundabouts.
On the whole, I thought Saracens deserved the win, though not by ten points: that flattered them a bit, in my opinion. They shaded it with a bit more inventiveness in the backs – a greater ability to quickly shift the point and direction of attack, which pulled our defence from side to side and eventually opened up the space out wide. Most of that dominance can probably be attributed to them having been together as a settled team for much longer.
Also, to a man, they’ve had the experience of Twickenham before. How many Sale players were stepping out into that cauldron for the first time? Five? Six? Seven? Look at it that way and this was a remarkable performance by a side that averages 27 years old (with a back three of 22, 22 and 23). I firmly believe that what we see in this Sale side are the young pretenders to the throne. They’re now battle-hardened, no longer awed by the stage they’re performing on. Been there, done that, move on. Next time, watch out…
We’ve had a year where, despite some inconsistency (and, yes, some downright barmy decisions), we’ve maintained a consistent second place throughout the campaign, we’ve bounced back from sticky periods, held firm and achieved what many would have said was a pipe dream at the start of the season.
What we need to do now is build on that and improve, something I think will happen because, unlike the class of ’06, this team feels more… organic. Saint-Andre’s team was constructed; bought in talent, mostly. There wasn’t a real sense of that intangible something that permeates the current crop. Alex’s team feels coherent, unified. There’s a je ne sais quoi that feels so much more hopeful for the future. It’s about a team that’s geared around a bunch of guys who have grown up and are growing up together, under the steadying influence of more experienced players. It’s a good blend of youth and wisdom.
I’m straying into season-round-up territory here, so let’s leave it at that for the moment and just say that this has been a fabulous season, rounded off by a fabulous match on a fabulous day.
I thought I’d be more upset about defeat than I am. I’m disappointed, sure, but the manner in which we played, the promise of the future, the way we won over so many neutrals on the day… that’s special and helps to soften the blow.
A Wasps fan after the game told me quite confidently, “You’ll be back here next year and you’ll be winning it”. It would be arrogant to agree with him but, right now, I wouldn’t want to bet against it.
I said it on the day and I’ll say it again: proud of the team, proud of the club, proud to be wearing the shirt on the streets of Twickenham.
We will be back…
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If you’re unfamiliar with Calvin & Hobbes, firstly: what are you doing with your life? And, secondly, you are missing out on the best daily comic strip ever drawn. This is scientifically proven† and I will brook no argument on the matter. ↩
† The Far Side was single-panel and Asterix wasn’t a syndicated daily, so they’re not included in the data set.
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If you want neutral, read a newspaper report. Also good for insomnia, I’ve found. And bland enough not to upset a gippy tummy. ↩
an old grey dog 