Hands up anybody who expected that.
I don’t believe you. You knew we could win; you believed in the team. But you weren’t convinced: you knew what we were up against. You couldn’t expect a win, you were too nervous. I know I was; I had to take the dog out for a walk before kick-off just to calm myself down a bit.
In my Leicester report, I said, regarding this game,
And yet I think we could do it. We should have beaten them there last season but we made too many bad choices. We’re good enough to do it, I just wonder if the psychological barrier might prove too much: no matter how you try to ignore it, there’s got to be that little demon taking up residence at the back of the mind.
As it turned out, though, the demon appeared to have taken a liking to Sarries. For almost the whole match, they looked lacklustre and indecisive, in no small part because Sale didn’t let them play their game. Blitzing defence and bruising hits combined to keep Saracens subdued and unable to play their usual game.
At halftime, I was expecting a second-half reaction from them and hoped that the Sale team were ready for an increase in intensity. But it didn’t come. Well, not until twenty-five minutes in with the arrival of Goode and Vunipola, B. Then they started to look dangerous and then the old rear-end squeakies started to make themselves felt.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s take it from the top…
Should we get Fordy to make a bog of the kick-off every game? It seems to be a good omen…
Anyway, it went long, so we got the first match-up of the front rows within a minute: Bev against Judge, Dickie against George and Harper against Mako. That last competition was intriguing: James has made great strides over the last few games; how would he hold up against a grizzled veteran?
Not well, initially. The scrum went down; free kick, scrum again (enjoy that option while you still can). The next scrum went down again and this time referee Pearce gave the penalty. Daly stepped up to take the kick from halfway and, even though it drifted wide, that three-minute period was already suggesting a long afternoon.
I checked with the dog but he just wanted to lie down somewhere cool, so that distraction was denied me. Nothing for it, I’d have to carry on watching.
Prospects didn’t improve when Fordy dropped a routine catch, but the resulting scrum held up and nothing came of it.
We then put together a decent set of phases, recycling well, changing the point of attack and including a bit of classic Manu action. Unfortunately, it then fizzled out and Sarries countered well but were stopped by Sale’s defence.
In the middle of that, Manu tweaked a hamstring in the process of steamrollering the Saracens’ defence and Sam James made an appearance about fifty minutes before he expected to.
Five minutes later and the poor old dog got a rude awakening as Roebuck evaded Parton’s despairing dive, sashayed past a flat-footed van Zyl and left Ben Earl floundering in his wake on his way to a try under the posts. And that was just the cherry on the top of the cake baked by a great break[^1] by Carps and Flats to the Saracens’ 10-metre line. From the ruck, the ball went from Gus to George and then to Rob, who shipped on to Roebs.
Seven-nil up so, of course, we had to give them a route back by coughing up a penalty almost immediately to make it 7-3.
After that initial wobble, the scrum was now starting to dominate, to the point of forcing a couple of penalties. The game as a whole was turning into a bit of a toe-to-toe ding-dong, with Sale marginally on top, but not enough to calm any nerves. Mine were twanging like the springs on an old mattress by now – I’d watched Sarries play Bristol the week before and I was just waiting for that gear shift they do that signals the imminent destruction of the team that they’re playing.
But it didn’t come. With five minutes to go to halftime, Sarries had a line out on their own line following their defence of a Sale attack. George overthrew it massively, right into the waiting mitts of Dickie who crashed over for another score.
Or so we thought…
Look, I get where that particular law is coming from because knock-ons are about control of the ball and, if you’ve only got one hand available because the other is wrapped around the body of your tackler, then you can’t regain control if you lose contact with the ball. I get that; it just seems to me that this is another one of those finicky laws that seems ridiculous to the casual observer: yes, there was separation, but he regained contact before the ball touched the ground. Surely, if the powers that be are concerned at attracting new supporters, they could put in a tweak to allow such a score. As my wife says, “Oh, just give him the try and get on with it”.
Anyway, it was a knock-on, 5-metre scrum to Sarries. In goes the ball, huge push, penalty Sale. Fordy squeezes the ball inside the far post to take us into the break 10-3 up.
And now I’m thinking: this is where McCall gives them both barrels plus hairdryer (or whatever he does to put a rocket up their collective bums) and they come out flying for the second half and we get overwhelmed, because that’s what Saracens do.
… Except when they don’t.
They brought Riccioni on for Judge at halftime, presumably to try to shore up the scrum but, apart from that, the expected backlash kept not happening. Fordy kicked another penalty five minutes in and Saracens were showing every indication that they were rattled by Sale’s aggressive defence.
Then we got a bit of Sam James magic. Daly hoofed the ball into the Sale 22, where it landed and bounced around like a demented pinball before Carps gathered it and gave it to Gus. James took it and hoofed it back upfield, where it took another vicious bounce before Lewington recovered it. Unfortunately for him, Sam had been following up and clobbered him as he was trying to pass to Farrell. This caused the ball to sit up nicely for an onrushing Rob du Preez to gather and run in under the posts. The dog is thinking that another walk might have been peaceful.
Twenty points to three ahead and I’m starting to wonder if those mushrooms I had for lunch were entirely innocent. We were now three scores ahead with half an hour to go. Surely they’re going to turn on the afterburners now?
The try signalled mass changes, with Sarries completing their front-row replacements and Sale changing all three of theirs, plus others around the field.
But Sarries were still looking ponderous; it wasn’t until they brought on Vunipola, B that they woke up properly.
And, inevitably, the pressure told, with Riccioni finishing off a series of pick-and-goes following a 5-metre lineout. Ten points behind…
A bit less than fifteen minutes to go, and I’m repeating a mantra: “It’s still two scores, it’s still two scores…” It’s true that they had barely threatened the Sale try line – four entries into the 22 in the whole match (Sale had nine) – but that’s not a guarantee of future performance, as they say.
It’s still two scores, it’s still two scores…
We had a chance to put it to bed with a series of lineouts on their five-metre line but, when J-L finally got over, he was held up. That should have been the third try but at least it had run the clock down to less than four minutes to go.
It’s still two scores, it’s still two scores…
Then: two minutes to go, ten points. Surely…
Then: clock in the red, knocked forward into touch, ref blows the final whistle, dog heads out to the garden for some peace and quiet.
Before going into specifics, I want to comment and compliment the spirit in which this match was played: hard, uncompromising, fair. Fourteen penalties in the whole match (five against Sale. Five. Count ’em: five[^2]) and just a minor bit of handbag despite the brutal nature of the tackling.
Kudos to both teams.
I don’t think it’s possible to overstate the importance of that win. Look at it:
- First win in the league at their place for eighteen years;
- Continued a run that has seen us blow away Exeter, Harlequins, Newcastle and Leicester;
- Sealed a second consecutive semi-final
- Left us above Saracens in the table
Sam Dugdale got player of the match and he totally deserved it. Mind you, it could have gone to Ben Curry or Bev Rodd or J-L or Fordy or Cobus or Carps or…
Tom Roebuck for doing what other wingers do but not getting nearly as much fawning over. Sam James for showing us what we’ll be missing next season. Hyron Andrews for coming in and doing a job. James Harper for stepping up when it mattered. SiMac, Tommy and WillGriff for taking over and not missing a beat. O’Flats for getting in the oppo’s face. Gus and Raffi: they complement each other so well.
Everyone, take a bow. Take two.
And so to Bath.
It took five games to go from first to eighth. It’s taken four games to go from eighth back up to third. Two more to go…
Can we beat Bath at The Rec? Absolutely we can; and have, much more recently than we last beat Saracens away. Will I be watching from behind my hands, expecting the universe to return to standard operating procedure at any moment? Of course I will, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t want to be a supporter who expects us to win any game – that’s arrogant and unrealistic. You should always be aware of the vicissitudes of chance, especially when coming up against such high-class opposition. It’s one thing to think that we really shouldn’t lose to a particular team – that still acknowledges that we could – it’s another to dismiss the other team by expecting us to win. I know, I’m arguing the finer points of semantics: I’m just trying to say that I’m saving my beer tokens for a weekend in Twickenham with the full understanding that I may end up spending them elsewhere.
Bath will be on a high after their win against Northampton but will it outstrip the confidence Sale have to be feeling right now? We’ll find out in a couple of weeks. The dog’s going to get an extra long walk before that one kicks off…
[^1]: Do not attempt to say this phrase out loud unless you have received the appropriate training.
[^2]: Our season average is 10.
an old grey dog 