The probability that we could beat Quins at home was always quite high (we’ve done it seven times in the last ten years). Even beating them and scoring five tries is worth a punt. Beating them, scoring five tries and denying them anything is just crazy talk.
I think I’ve said before that the visit of Quins is, for me, a highlight of the season. Games between us are usually hugely entertaining, always unpredictable and rarely niggly. I know it’s fashionable to take the mick out of the ‘suvvern jessies’ – and I’m always up for a bit of good-natured banter – but credit where it’s due: they play a bloody good game and often bring out the best in Sale’s play simply by their own attitude.
So, whilst the heart wanted a five-point win and to deny them anything (and so go ahead of them on games won), the head said: be satisfied with sixth and reducing the gap to less than a win. I’d have preferred to reduce the gap to one point instead of two, but it still makes them overtakable (is that a word?).
Six minutes in, I think we were all in slight shock. Certainly, the Quins supporter who was standing with us looked somewhat stunned. The reason for his discombobulation was that Sale were now twelve points up following tries from Ben Curry and Sam Dugdale. Add a penalty goal after a quarter of an hour – fifteen-nil up – and we’re starting to think back to the Exeter game here a couple of weeks before.
It couldn’t last. Five minutes later, we’re coughing up penalties and gifting Quins multiple opportunities to attack our line. It’s frustrating, watching them successfully defend a 5-metre lineout, only to give away another penalty before clearing the line. And then do it again. And again…
Eventually, of course, something’s going to give. It took Marcus Smith coming in from the side and knocking Dickie off of a jackal but, on the fourth attempt, Quins got the inevitable try as Lynagh went over in the corner.
Ten minutes later, Lynagh scored Quins’ second. Smith missed the conversion again but now they were five points behind and looking dangerous.
Then it was pretty much nip and tuck until just before halftime when Sale mounted a serious attack on the Quins’ line. Play went from right to left and back again until, with time up in the half, George fizzed a pass out to Ben Curry on the wing, who palmed the ball back inside to Arron. The route to the line went dangerously close to the touchline but he made it – just: the ball hit the try line about a millisecond before Reedy’s boot hit the touchline. Try awarded, George kicks the conversion, a twelve-point lead at the break. Happy days.
Three minutes after the resumption, George kicked another penalty, restoring the fifteen-point lead. Three scores ahead; we can do this…
Not so fast, chummy: five minutes later, Murley pulled one back and, with Smith’s conversion, the lead was down to eight points. With half an hour left, eight points is nowhere near a big enough margin for comfort. Squeaky bum time before the end is looking very likely.
It came (first time) before we’d even reached the final quarter. About five minutes after Murley’s try, Ben had to go off for an HIA, replaced by t’other Ben: Bamber of that ilk.
… Who lasted about a minute before being shown a yellow card after referee Foley finally lost patience with Sale’s transgressions. Inevitably, Quins scored to close the gap to a single point. Time for the Quins fans to start looking smug and the Sale fans to reach for the defibrillators.
But it can be a funny old game at times. O’Flats came on for Roebuck following the try and his first act was to charge down Esterhuizen’s clearance from the kick-off. And there was Raffi to scoop up the ball for the easiest try he’ll ever score. Back to eight points within three minutes of going down to one.
And then, before the sin-bin was over, a sublime pass from Rob out to Arron saw the try of the match (or, rather, one of them) take the lead out to thirteen points. And I should point out that it was O’Flats, again, chasing and catching a kick to set up the ruck for the move that led to the try. And some people think he should be nowhere near the team… 🙄
It seems churlish but, at the time, we really felt that George missing the conversion was a big deal. It wasn’t that far out and he’d kicked trickier ones already. Three scores ahead with fifteen minutes to go is a bit more comfortable than two.
But we’d won the sin-bin by twelve points to seven. That’s a not insignificant achievement.
Squeaky bum time hit with a vengeance with two minutes to go as Quins launched an attack from within their own 22 – aided, it must be said, by some dodgy tackling – to score under the posts. It was now a six-point lead and we had to give them the ball back.
Blue hearts sank as, for twenty-one phases, Quins pushed from their twenty-two into the Sale half. Surely they wouldn’t manage it? They could, you know – I wouldn’t put it past them.
But the gods of rugby finally smiled on the Sale faithful as Carps got his mitts on the ball to gain the penalty that killed the threat.
Say it quietly, but the last two games (ignore Ospreys – it wasn’t this team) suggest that Sale have finally clicked this season. It took a while – too long – but the performances against Exeter and this one against Harlequins are much more like the team that we were watching last season.
There’s a sense of the cogs finally meshing smoothly, an air of extra confidence around the team and a feeling that they are finally letting loose. If only, if only, if only…
I know Sam Dugdale was player of the match but this was genuinely one of those games where everyone was as important as everyone else. As I said, the cogs meshed smoothly. Players like Josh, Harper and Dickie were foundational: without being particularly prominent, they held the whole thing up; without them, there was nothing to build on.
Look at Ben Curry – what a difference his presence makes. Why England can’t see it, I have no idea. Fordy has (by Alex’s admission) come back from England camp and revitalised the attack. It’s probably done Roebuck no end of good too: imagine what he’d be like if he’d actually got the chance to play…
Let’s talk about Rob for a minute. In one respect, he reminds me of Faf: and that’s his tendency to go for the miss/hero pass possibly too often for my sense of well-being. If it’s not whizzing off into touch your sense is that the next one could be intercepted for the winning try.
But. But, but, but. Two of Sale’s tries came from such passes: there was the obvious one for Reedy’s second – as perfect a long miss pass as you could hope to see – but there was also the cheeky one across the front of Dickie to Dugdale for his try. There was enough of a possibility that it was actually going to Dickie to fix the defender for that vital fraction of a second to leave a gap at the touchline.
But against that, there was one howler out to Reedy(?) that (fortunately) ended up in touch. When they work, they’re spectacular but, please, be a little more circumspect.
Finally, a big shout out to Reedy for bagging a brace on his 100th appearance and Raffi for being on the end of that charge down on his 50th. Honestly, if you said “We charge the ball down in the opposition 22, who is there to gather the loose ball and score?” ninety-nine times out of a hundred, the answer is “Raffi”.
A few months ago, when it was becoming obvious that Newcastle were not only not at the races but hadn’t even left the stables, I could envisage a final analysis for them of “P 18, W 1”. And you just know who the “1” would be.
Now, though…
Yes, Newcastle away always seems to be the game where we snatch defeat from the jaws of victory; yes, we haven’t won there in eight years (although one of those games was cancelled – I choose to believe that we would have won it); yes, they’ll be smarting from an absolute pasting at Bristol, but I believe that the team that beat Exeter and Quins is more than capable of bringing the full five points back and of restoring a positive points difference with it.
Forget “bogey teams”, forget eight years since a win, and forget the earlier games this season: they’re irrelevant. Quins play Northampton and Bristol are away at Leicester; if the rugby gods continue to look on us with approval, we could be fourth come Sunday evening and then it’s in our hands.
We may not have won there since 2016 but SAMP™ still has only a three-point margin for them over the last five games so, even when they’ve been relatively strong, it’s been tight. Now that they are – let’s not sugar-coat it – dreadful, we should be putting them to the sword, Dimes or no Dimes. I want Newcastle to survive, I don’t want them to be the next club to go to the wall, but they’re in our way – no mercy.
an old grey dog 