I’ve tried telling myself that better teams have lost and will continue to lose to Exeter, but it doesn’t help. Even the fact that Sale played so much better than last week doesn’t help. Played better, got less out of it; not a comfort. The simple truth is that, in two games, we’ve lost more ground on Exeter than I think it’s possible to make up. From 5 points behind to 14 points behind: that’s a big gap.
Continue reading “View from the armchair: Sale 22 Exeter 32”
Getting too excited about something carries its own danger: the thing may not live up to the hype, and the feeling of deflation is even more pronounced than than would otherwise be the case. It wasn’t actually Sale losing that got me down, although I felt this was probably their best chance to do one on Quins at The Stoop in ages. No, what left me feeling flatter than a week-old pint was the sheer, turgid dreadfulness of the whole thing.
Continue reading “View from the armchair: Harlequins 16 Sale Sharks 10”
The human mind can’t cope with things that are too large, or important, or portentous. There comes a point where your brain goes “right, that’s it, I can’t cope. I need to bring this thing that’s overwhelming me down to size”.
Continue reading “I’m bored, now”
Southport, Merseyside
Continue reading “Seaside”
Betws-y-Coed, Wales
Continue reading “Wet”
Dunham Massey, Cheshire
Continue reading “Park”
When you’re still having to pinch yourself to prove that, yes, we really are second in the table, it seems a little churlish to be greedily anticipating the possibility of going top. Even if only for 18 hours.
Continue reading “View from the south stand: Sale 39 London Irish 0”
Second in the table. Say it again: second. In the table. Halfway through the season (is it really only halfway?) and, without ever being consistent, Sale find themselves—almost apologetically—in nosebleed territory.
Continue reading “View from the armchair: Gloucester 17 Sale 23”
It’s a strange feeling when Leicester come calling and you greet most of the team announcement with “who?” — I’m much more used to a feeling of rising dread as fearsome name after fearsome name is listed, even on a 6 Nations’ weekend. How the mighty have fallen.
Continue reading “View from the south stand: Sale 36 Leicester 3”
an old grey dog 
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