As responses to last week’s debacle go, that was pretty good. It’s unfortunate that it also turned out to be a somewhat Pyrrhic victory.
Bev, SiMac, Dickie, Will-Griff(?), Tom & Ben, DdP, Raffi, Carps, Luke…
And now add Rob du Preez.
Bugger.
Eighty-eight Premiership starts on the trot is quite some achievement: I wonder what the next longest streak is…
That’s a gnat’s todger short of five full seasons, starting every game (and completing the majority of them, too). I know that we were a bit ambivalent about him at the start of his time with us, what with a wonky kicking radar (despite an uncanny ability to hit the posts from anywhere on the pitch). But, over time, he has made that starting spot—whether at fly-half or outside centre—his own.
And now it looks like he’s played his last game for us. That’s a real pity: it would have been nice to give him a proper send-off after the Bristol game.
Anyway, the game…
It was a bit of a curate’s egg, really. Long periods of two teams low on confidence, swapping mistakes, punctuated by some truly class action.
Sale managed to get off to a dream start, with Sam Dugdale scoring after less than two minutes, and Alfie Longstaff following up with another five minutes later. Twelve points in less than ten minutes, Quins rattled and giving up penalties all over the place? Bring it on.
It was noticeable that Sale were intent on keeping the ball in hand, rather than kicking it. This is laudable and very much the way we want to go, but it is causing some problems now. One of those is that, because it’s a system that we’re not yet fluent in, we turn the ball over a bit easily, and that gave Quins a way back into the game.
Fifteen minutes in, and Cunningham-South managed to graze the line with the point of the ball (they all count) to get Quins moving.
We then got one of those typical Sale-going-off-the-boil periods for the next ten minutes, during which Quins scored two more tries to take a nine-point lead.
Ho-hum. Where have we seen this before?
But then, five minutes later, Fordy picked up a loose pass off his bootlaces for a simple run-in to reduce the deficit to two.
Five minutes after that, Buck got the ball deep in his own half and set off on a mazy run (aided and abetted by some woeful tackling) into the Quins’ 22. A simple pass, and there was Flats to run in the bonus point try and regain the lead, which we held up to half time.
The second half started off in pretty much the same vein as most of the first half (and the rest of the game, truth be told…), but, eight minutes in, Quins pulled off one of the counterattacks from open play that they are renowned for. The try gave them the lead again, and then, eight minutes after that, they did it again to restore a nine-point lead with a bit over twenty minutes to go.
At this point, I doubt there was a Sale fan watching whose heart didn’t sink a bit, recognising a familiar pattern. Sixty minutes of hope, only to see the game run away in the last twenty.
But then…
Quins gave up an innocuous-seeming penalty somewhere near the middle of the pitch, and Fordy put in a monster kick to give us a lineout close to the Quins’ line. A quick observation here that Alfie Longstaff’s darts look pretty good: we only buggered up one lineout in twenty. Anyway, the throw went to hand and, a few phases later, James Harper scored a rare try.
At this stage, I’ll mention something the commentator pointed out at the same place in the match: Harlequins have conceded more tries in the final twenty minutes than any other team in the league.
And they were about to keep up that tradition…
With a couple of minutes over ten to go, and still two points behind, Sale were once again camped on Quins’ line. This time, it was Sam Dugdale who grounded the ball for his second try of the game. Five points ahead, ten minutes to defend that lead. Could we do it, given that Quins were still looking quite dangerous on the counter-attack?
Indeed, we could. In fact, we could do more than that. With less than five minutes to go, Tumy broke through the defence and got to within millimetres of the line. The ball came free and reached Harper, who bulled over for his second try.
There was some question of a knock-on, but replays showed that Tumy had retained control of the ball and smartly pushed it backwards as soon as he realised that he couldn’t score.
We were now twelve points ahead, with only a couple of minutes to go, and even hardened Sale fans were unclenching firmly clenched glutei.
And then, the cherry on the cake: keeping the ball in Quins’ 22, ultimately leading to Buck strolling through a gap the size of the North-West Passage to bring up Sale’s eighth try, their fourth in twenty minutes, and a nice half-century in points.
Flats got the player of the match award, and I have no problem with that. For the second game running, and the umpteenth this season, he was everywhere, playing as if his life (or, possibly, contract) depended on it.
But I want to pay tribute to the young lads, some of them making their first starts, who stood up to the challenge and laid down a marker for the future.
Alfie Longstaff and Ralph McEachran held up the front row as if they’d been doing it for ages. I mean, they’re not threatening Dickie and Bev yet, but the signs are there.
Tristan Woodman had a solid game, and Seb Kelly made the most of his debut when he replaced him with twenty-five minutes to go.
It was a good win, but let’s not kid ourselves that they would have beaten Bath, for example. But I’m not on the “it’s only Quins, and they’re rubbish this year, so I’m going to continue to be despondent about our prospects” team. I thought both teams had some good attacking moves, especially Sale, given that that sort of multi-phase intent has been a rarity this year. Yes, defences were semi-optional, but is that surprising, given that defence is the first thing to suffer when a team is disrupted and unable to form long partnerships over the season? Plus, the amount of upheaval in our defence coaching team this year must have had a serious detrimental effect.
I said a while back, when it was first clear that we weren’t going to finish higher than seventh, that we should take the opportunity to blood some youngsters ready for this season. That has been forced on us, albeit to a larger extent than I would have wanted, but it’s reaping its rewards.
We’re going to have a much stronger team next season, and the lads who are playing now will be that much more ready to step up should they be needed. I’m quietly confident.
But we still have this season to finish off, and I don’t think we should treat it as dead. I’ve heard people say that a run in the Challenge Cup, where we stand a good chance of going all the way, might be a good thing. Or that we shouldn’t worry whether Gloucester overtake us – seventh, eighth, what does it matter?
I disagree with both. Yes, we might progress further in the Challenge Cup, so what? We’ve won it (in one incarnation or another) twice. Great. Quite frankly, reaching the quarters of the Champions’ Cup is, I feel, a more significant achievement, especially with such a depleted squad.
As for league position, always desire the highest place you can get. Never settle for second, rather than first, just because they both get a home tie. Never settle for eighth over seventh just because they both qualify for the Champions’ Cup. It’s a mindset thing: to always be better than those around you, to not want to concede anything to a team that you may be meeting again at the sharp end of the season.
Gloucester’s win against Exeter put them six points behind us, and looking dangerous again. That makes our trip to Kingsholm a genuine ten-pointer: it could be the difference between a one-point gap and an eleven-point lead. I don’t buy this guff about the lack of relegation meaning that teams are no longer trying. If that’s your attitude, then you shouldn’t be playing.
I don’t want us to be facing Leicester knowing that Gloucester could overtake us if we don’t win. I want that eleven-point gap as a buffer while we go all out to show everyone else that we’re on the way back and that they’d better watch out next season.
No, it’s not all pointless. If pride is not a sufficient motivator, then you’re in the wrong business.
Bring it on…
an old grey dog 