And so we bring down the curtain on a season to forget…
It was like déjà vu all over again.
Fourteen points up after five minutes, a bonus point secured within twenty-five minutes, then two tries pulled back by the opposition, one of them on the stroke of half-time.
It’s no wonder we’re all nervous wrecks…
Fortunately, the second half followed a different script to the Match That Shall Not Be Named. When Rikki scored three minutes into the half, the sighs of relief around the ground were strong enough to cause a temporary high-pressure area on the pitch.
Let’s back up a bit and consider what was at stake in this game.
Bugger all, really.
Bristol couldn’t make the playoffs and were already several million points ahead of us, so the best they could hope for was to go above Saracens into fifth.
For Sale, there was a chance of dropping out of the Champions’ Cup places. One point would prevent that, and two points would guarantee the seventh place that we had been occupying since round four.
For the first time in what seemed forever, we were able to put out something that was within shouting distance of a first-choice pack. OK, we were still missing Bev, Dickie, BenC, DdP, and Vermeulen, but a front row of Asher, Jibs and Harper isn’t too shabby. TomC, back at number 8, was a boost; Sam Dugdale is arguably a first-choicer anyway; and Seb Kelley has been solid enough, given his inexperience. Ernie and Ben B in the row seem to have been the only ever-presents.
For the backs, the absence of Rob du Preez was the only deviation from the script like what it should have been wrote. That he and Dan preceded the teams onto the pitch and gave us a chance to thank and say goodbye to them was a welcome alternative.
Brizzle, on the other hand, fielded a team with about three first-choice regulars. This was partly due to injuries (boo-hoo, tell us about it) and a need to achieve the required EQP quota (no sympathy: you’ve had eight rounds – manage your choices better).
On the face of it, this should have been a fairly routine victory for Sale, but we all know not to rely on “should”, especially this season. Still traumatised by the events of the previous week, you could forgive us for not being our usual, ebullient selves.
For the first twenty-five minutes, it appeared that Bristol hadn’t mentally got off the bus yet. In this period, Sale scored the four tries needed to keep Harlequins at bay.
Every team, no matter how dominant, goes off the boil at some point in the game, and the opposition get a bit of fresh hope and start putting some moves together. Sale’s problem this season has been twofold: first, once they’ve gone off the boil, it’s been for the rest of the match, and, second, the off-the-boil period sometimes starts with the kick-off.
Now, I’ve made the point a few times over several seasons – so it’s not unique to this year – that we can have a dominant first half and then fail to cope with the inevitable change in tactics by the opposition after they’ve had a sharp kick up the bum at half-time. This time, either the kick wasn’t sharp enough, or we did manage to adjust to their changes. Either way, that common feature of many Sale games – the second-half drop-off – didn’t materialise. Certainly, there was less action in the second half, but that’s a feature of most matches: players are tired, and substitutions interrupt the flow.
And so, we saw the game out; never really under threat from a poor Bristol side that offered little. Forsh will probably be having words about a couple of defensive lapses that let them in for a bit of respectability on the scoreline, but otherwise, this was a fairly routine victory.
Then we got to say goodbye to the many players leaving. Sad to see them go, but it’s the harsh reality of life, business and salary caps. We wish all of them the very best – except when they’re playing us, of course.
I didn’t see any mention of a player of the match – nothing was announced on telly, and I’ve not seen anything since – but, for me, it would probably be Rikki, closely followed by Flats. I thought Rikki looked back to the form he showed last year: bullish runs, hard tackles and a try to cap it off. He missed the tackle on Thacker that led to their first try, but, to be fair, he had been hobbling a couple of minutes earlier.
Flats, along with Ben Bamber, has been the stand-out player this season (the churlish might suggest that it hasn’t been a high bar). Both of them went all out, every game; never giving up, always challenging, always in the thick of it.
I know that many say that all experience is good experience, but it can’t be much fun when you’re getting your first significant outings at the top levels, to be on the wrong end of an old-fashioned shoeing every time. So, it must be something of a relief and pleasure to end up giving it, rather than taking it, for once. At least the academy lads (and everyone else) can go into the break on the back of a decent win, not a drubbing.
And it was a good win. I’m not interested in caveats about the quality of the opposition: there was much to be seen in the way they played to suggest that better things are coming, once some of the creases have been ironed out, and once Forsh has had a chance to reinstate the famous duck’s-arse defence.
Overall? It was a game, it was a win. Almost meaningless in the context of a dreadful season, except as a pointer to the future – and maybe that’s the most important aspect of it.
an old grey dog 