Oct 08 Sale v Munster

One Step Beyond ……


Would you rather be a big fish in a little pool or would you choose the more challenging and daring alternative? Personally I’d opt for the latter - I’d much prefer to be a tiddler in a bigger lake, swimming with the larger fish. Granted such aspirations may come at a cost: you might just get eaten up, but I still believe it’s a price that’s worth paying. No matter what field you’re in, be it rugby or business, if you aspire to be the best, you have to be prepared to test yourself at the highest level. To do otherwise is self-defeating: there’s simply no point in going over old ground and replicating successes you already know you’re capable of achieving? You have to set yourself challenges and strive for bigger and better things. Otherwise that little pool you lord over gets stagnant.

Sale have established themselves as a team with genuine Premiership credentials and are more than capable of holding their own in any secondary European competition. But if you want to be up there with the big boys of Heineken Cup rugby, you have to be prepared to trade punches with the best. Against the odds and many expectations Sale despatched the T14 runners up, Claremont Auvergne, with a dazzling display of scintillating and clinical rugby. Confidence was understandably high on the back of this victory, especially as Sale had already turned over the Irish once before at Edgeley. Granted this was at a time when Munster hadn’t been ‘Chabaled’ before and there was the small matter that O’Connell wasn’t fit, but you take what you’re given.

Munster, on the other hand came to Edgeley Park on the back of a workmanlike, yet unconvincing victory over Montauban at Thomond Park. It might not have been pretty, nor convincing, but it was a victory none the less. That’s the thing about Munster - even when they don’t play well, they still have the ability to grind out a result. They simply refuse to be beaten and are prepared to do whatever it takes to achieve this end. Having suffered at and learned from the hands of the masters of the dark arts, Leicester Tigers, Munster will use every trick in the book to get the result they want. That’s not a criticism by the way, if anything that’s the type of winning mentality I applaud. In fact, I look forward to the day when I can say that my own team have enough nous and experience on the biggest stage to do this. That’s why Munster are the double Heineken Cup Champions. They don’t come any bigger or meaner than Munster. If you can perform against this lot, then you know you’ve come of age.

For the first 5 minutes things looked promising: an expectant home crowd hoped for a continuation of the dominant form from Clermont. McAlister lofted up the high swirling kick and Chabal and Jonesy gave chase. Munster scrambled possession at the base of the resultant ruck and O’Leary launched the ball out on the full. Briggsy found Abraham from the line out and Peel fed the ball through to Chabal on the crashball. He was eventually brought to ground by Wallace but Quinlan was pinged at the ruck for going off his feet. Most supporters expected McAlister to slot over the penalty, but unfortunately it drifted wide.

The momentum continued to be with Sale though. Savage counter-rucking saw the ball pop out on the Sale side. Jonesy took the ball forward and into contact. O’Sullivan was pulled up by referee Berdos for not rolling away from the tackle. McAlister put the previous miss behind him and slotted over comfortably – normal service resumed then. Sale could in fact have inflicted more telling damage had the final ball been more accurate. Strangely Munster looked quite hesitant in the opening stages. An early foray into Sharks territory ended abruptly as Horan fumbled Mafi’s pass. Chabal hoofed the ball up field and gave chase. Dowling was the first to react to the threat but knocked on in the process when he felt Seabass breathing down his neck. The attacking 5 metre scrum was all set up for a sniping 9 like Peel as Munster were held back the full 5 metres from the base by the ref. Sadly the pass from Corcho was at boot level and Peel couldn’t collect.

Wallace took possession of the ball at the base of the Munster scrum and does what he does best, breaking Wiggy’s feeble tackle and getting Munster on the front foot. From there on, the momentum of the game changed. The Irishmen posed more and more of a threat offensively with Mafi, Earls, Warwick and Howlett causing particular problems. Everyone knows what a fine full back Howlett is and how effective he can be on the wing, but defensively he never seemed to be used by the All Blacks to such great effect. Whenever Sale threatened, he made sure that the ball never got out wide to Doherty either by pressing the space, or by making sure Lamont had no other option than to bring the ball back inside on the fewer and fewer occasions that Sale managed to get into the Munster half.

With the wind in their sails, Munster began to threaten from all over the park. O’Gara’s clever tactical kicking stretched Sale’s defensive cover. Both Mafi and Earls began to run some great lines and these, in combination with the decoy darts by Warwick pulled Sale out of position. You sensed it was only a matter of time before Munster got on the score sheet in spite of resolute Sale defence. O’Gara levelled the scores after Chabal was penalised for impersonating Superman and flying over the top of the ruck, following Doherty’s long clearance which caught the wind and ran dead. Worse was to come. Munster pressure from the line out created an opening for Earls. He broke the gainline but couldn’t escape the clutches of Cockbain. Wiggy cleared to touch and Flannery gifted possession back to the home side when his throw in wasn’t straight.

It looked like the threat was over, but eagle-eyed Monsieur Berdos spotted the crooked Peel feed to the Sale scrum. Before you could blink O’Leary had the ball out on the wing and Mafi and Earls were causing havoc in the Sale 22; a drop of the shoulder and a lovely floated pass to O’Gara created the fraction of space that Munster needed to break the Sale defence. That’s what they’d been probing for and when it came it was taken well. O’Gara delayed his pass and forced Abraham’s hand, offloading the ball just as he tackled to Quinlan. Cueto was caught in no man’s land and could only stand and stare as Quinlan popped the ball over his head to the advancing Warwick who touched down in the corner. It was a superbly worked score and only just desserts really for a period of extended pressure. O’Gara converted and Warwick quickly rubbed salt into the wound with an audacious drop goal.

A promising Sale attack from a bullocking Chabal charge with back up from Lobbe stuttered to a halt after Jonesy fumbled the ball in Munster’s 22. Earls counter-attacked and chipped the ball down the flank into the space behind Cueto. The retreating winger managed to get to the ball and back onto his feet, but Wiggy couldn’t find touch with his clearance. Unfortunately it went straight to Warwick who ran the ball back slightly in field and dropped a lovely long range running goal. It was a superb strike and astonishingly he nearly did it again minutes later. That attempt drifted just wide but both Lamont and Cueto were guilty of ball watching, almost allowing the predatory Howlett in for another poacher’s try.

Sale continued on the back foot for most of the rest of the half, with only a McAlister penalty to show for their efforts after Quinlan had gone off his feet after a quick tap by Peel. Munster continued to crank up the pressure and demonstrated as if we needed reminding why they’re such a top team. Wave after wave of relentless attacks rained down towards the Cheadle End, but somehow, through a mixture of skill, determination, last ditch defending and the odd bit of luck, Munster couldn’t break through again before the break. Even when Munster managed to win one against the head, Sale showed that they were not going to lie down without a fight. Any threat from the resulting 5 metre Munster attacking scrum was quashed when Faure got his body underneath Hayes and forced him to stand up.

Sale did, I’m glad to say, end the half with a bit more of a flourish after a lovely jinking break from McAlister. He managed to squeeze through the gap between Flannery and Horan and deftly offload backhanded to Briggsy who was up in support of him. He was snagged eventually by the irrepressible Wallace but not before the ball was recycled and fed back to Seabass on the crashball. Now you see him – now you don’t: one minute he was there and the next he’d been creamed by Mafi. Chabal left the field at the break looking a little rattled; then again you suspected that was the way most of the team probably felt: they’d been in one hell of a battle and were no doubt surprised that they were still in with a shout in spite of the relentless pressure.

When the changes were made after the break, the sense of relief felt around a packed Edgeley Park was palpable. Wiggy had done a fine job in Clermont standing in at stand off, but in truth I’m sure he’d be the first to admit that he’s not a natural 10 and that his kicking out of hand isn’t quite up to Charlie’s standard. In fact, in fairness to all concerned most of the damage last week was inflicted after normal service was resumed. Charlie for all his detractors can change a game and put the opposition on the back foot as he reads a game so well and moves the point of attack around.

Within minutes of him coming on Munster were on the back foot as his clever kicking turned them inside out and his ability to play flat drew on the Munster midfield creating space for McAlister who looked far more lively and threatening at inside centre. Although Munster increased their lead following a sloppy penalty after Keil had drifted into an offside position as Charlie lofted a bomb, the impetus was with the Sharks for the first 20 minutes. Clever inter-passing between Charlie and McAlister allowed Cueto and Lamont to get more of a foothold in the game and make more of an impact.

A quick pass out of a midfield ruck on the flank in Munster’s 22 was fed out to Hodgson. His lovely flighted pass found McAlister who approached at speed and winged the ball out to Cueto on the flank. 18 months ago he probably would’ve backed himself and his speed and taken Warwick on, but he opted to chip and chase and the ball bounced menacingly into touch just beyond the 5 metre line. The treat was definitely there, but the execution just wasn’t quite on the money. Not yet anyway. Munster began to get a taste of the medicine that Sale had received earlier and the pressure started to tell. Mafi upended young Marc Jones, the replacement hooker, during another Sale surge. The crowd bellowed ‘spear tackle’: it wasn’t as he clearly let him drop out of contact and certainly didn’t drive him into the ground. Was it a penalty? The jury’s out on that one. What it did signify was that Munster were rattled. McAlister floated the penalty from the wide flank through the uprights and suddenly it was game on.

Another Cueto break from a quick looped pass from Hodgson minutes later led to the build up for the try that was certainly coming and undoubtedly deserved. Cueto hit the gas and skinned 2 Munstermen before passing back in field to Corcho. The captain couldn’t take clean ball, but possession regained after an infringement at the ensuing ruck. Was Cuets’ pass forward? Well, it looked that way, but the guy with the whistle makes the calls and some you win, some you loose: perhaps it went some way to making up for the earlier obstructions and pulling back that he also missed, particularly at the line outs when spaces miraculously appeared from out of nowhere.

Wiggy spun out a quick pass to Charlie: he swapped reverse passes with Mac and that let Rory through as he straightened his run and cut back inside. Another quick ball from Wiggy was taken at a superb angle by Marc Jones and he crashed forward breaking the gainline. Although he was eventually hauled down by Wallace, yet again, he did manage to pop the ball up to Schoey. A bit of a hoof off the shin and some juggling and bob’s your uncle – try by the posts. McAlister converted and it was really game on then.

It’s at this point that a long European pedigree comes in useful. Sure Sale have many players who’ve played internationally at the highest level, but Munster have been here before in this competition. Not only have they seen and bought the t-shirt, they’ve redesigned it. They don’t panic when the pressure’s on and neither do they go out gung ho looking for the scent of blood. They play within themselves whilst cranking up the pressure and wait for the opportunities to come along as they know they will. Sale if anything tried to force the issue: yes they were on a roll and the force was with them, but if you try to make things happen too quickly, you’re liable to either make the occasional mistake or lose sight of the bigger picture. Sale desperately wanted the win, but what they couldn’t afford to do was lose and not even take a bonus point for their troubles.

Minutes later Sale turned over a speculative punt up field. Somehow it came out on the Munster side through the mass of bodies lying on the floor. How? Well, I could probably guess, but like I said that’s what the Irish boys are good at and they don’t get caught. O’Gara punted the ball downfield for Howlett to chase. The only thing standing between him and a certain try was Schoey who was chasing the ball hell for leather. He managed to get down to it first but was immediately pounced upon by Howlett then Wallace. He wasn’t allowed to get to his feet, so you would’ve expected the penalty to be about to go the home side, but the referee thought otherwise and penalised him for holding on. O’Gara’s kick hit the outside of the top of the uprights and bounced out. Well that’s how it looked from where I was sat. At the other end that apparently was not the case. Maybe that was divine justice after all, yet it simply served to make Munster play with increased fervour.

What happened next you could almost have guessed, if not the exact method, well, at the very least the outcome. Sale made a silly error and it cost us dearly. I’d hoped, along with my fellow travellers down at the Liberty stadium a few seasons ago, that we learned the harsh lessons of European rugby – i.e. if you’re beaten by the better side, then fair enough, but don’t put the chances on a plate. Make the other team work for opportunities and protect what you have at any cost. A relatively harmless chip through from Howlett offered no real threatening opportunities, but with the Munster line coming up field at speed what was obvious is that a quick throw in was suicidal. Rory’s ball to Charlie gave no chance to launch the pill anywhere and he was scragged by Quinlan as soon as he caught it.

Although it took several phases of play to finally get the ball over the line, it was obvious that it was coming. There was intent about Munster and they can’t have failed to notice that Jonah had dropped off onto the wing after picking up a knock. You just knew that’s where the ball was heading. Even though 3 Sale players were covering 3 attackers, if one of them’s injured, you’ve had it. O’Leary whipped the ball out to Mafi. Jonah couldn’t attempt the hit and McAlister wasn’t across quickly enough to cover for him. Mafi showed a lovely touch and offloaded to Wallace and Wiggy’s tackle was brushed aside. O’Gara may have missed the conversion, but it was advantage Munster once again.

The last 10 minutes were as high octane as you’re likely to see in this competition, but in spite of all the intent, it was the Irish boys who were calling the tune. Even with Mafi off in the bin for a tackle that deserved a yellow, Munster still held firm. O’Gara’s drop goal rubbed further salt in the wound and just went to prove how ruthless a team these Munster men are. They will give you absolutely nothing if they can, especially if they think you might be a challenger. Tait almost stole in on the flank for a try that would’ve brought Sale back into bonus point range, but he was held up. Wiggy’s desperate little dart for the line was similarly dealt with, this time by the foot of O’Connell that held the ball up. Even an attempt to run the ball from deep within the Sale half was ended abruptly by Howlett, who’d raced 30 yards just to nip Doherty’s chances in the bud before he even got a chance to start to think he had a chance. That’s the kind of mindset and resolution that makes a European Champion – that's what Sale will have to strive for if they’re ever to lift the big one. You work as a team, you never surrender and you certainly never make it easy for anybody.

So, a very disappointing day was had if you support Sale Sharks. What had promised to be an historic day, proved to be a bit of a downer. Yet strangely, I wasn’t as gutted as I thought I would’ve been. Why, you might ask? I can’t really answer that because the thing is, I’m not sure myself. It may be simply that the better team won: of that there’s no question. It might even be that I still hold out some hope that the fat lady’s not warbled her vocal chords on this one yet. (I know, that’s unlikely as it’s no longer in our own hands and we have to rely on others). It could be that I just feel that we’re not quite ready for that level of competition yet, perhaps it’s one step beyond us at the moment: I’m sure if we carry on like this then one day we may be – just not yet.

I guess the bottom line is that I’m just proud of the team and the way they threw themselves into it wholeheartedly. On another day, if we’d started the game with the players we eventually finished with, maybe we might just have pulled it off. Had Charlie played from the start, who knows what might’ve happened? The only thing you can be sure of is that, in spite of any what ifs or maybes, Munster have sufficient mileage on the clock to probably scupper that one too. Is there anything they haven’t had to deal with? Probably not, but don’t spoil my dream just yet.

Oct 08 London Irish v Sale

Try a little tenderness…

At the end of a week in which Sale lost 2 important matches, its Premiership defensive record and suffered 3 appalling injuries, you’d be forgiven for thinking this Sharks fan might be more than a tad depressed. Strangely though, that’s not how I feel. Obviously I’m gutted that we’ve lost 3 key players for a considerable time at a point in the season where it’s definitely time for all hands on deck. This is particularly so in the case of Coxy: he’s been a defensive rock all season and is a born leader with the credentials you suspect to lead the team at some stage in the future.

Yet yesterday’s performance by the team that was written off on paper against Cardiff and the outstanding contributions of the younger lads, particularly Halsall, Fearns and Tait, has left me with a new found sense of optimism and buoyancy. There is hope and a light at the end of the tunnel – and no, before you jump to any misguided conclusions, it’s not an approaching express train, though with Clermont and Munster imminent maybe you might have a point there.

The Madejski Stadium has never been a happy hunting ground as far as I’m concerned. I know we beat them a couple of years back when Stan sneaked over for a couple of poacher’s tries at the bitter end, but by and large, we tend to leave disappointed and deflated. Most of my trips down there have been depressing, none more so than last year: that particular game for me was as demoralising as the loss at HQ to the Falcons in the Powergen Final, and the capitulation in San Sebastien. The team didn’t show up last January and were given the run-around by what was actually a pretty ordinary London Irish side at that time.

On the face of it, having lost this season’s match and shipped 4 tries you’d probably be expecting me to be reaching for the cut-throat. Funnily that’s not how I felt as I shuffled out of the sparsely populated stadium. Don’t get me wrong – I was bitterly disappointed because I thought, like many others that that was a match we were sure to win, but I wasn’t depressed. I was actually inspired. Yes inspired, though in fairness I have to confess that the inspiration came from watching an Exile’s performance that was professional, clinical and superb. They bossed the match for the majority of the game and showed just how you can play controlled and exciting rugby. Most other teams bemoan the ELVs and blame them for all the faults and failings within the game: London Irish embrace them and grab the game by the scruff of the neck, demonstrating that it is possible to make the new regulations work for you and still produce rugby that sets the heart racing.

Whether you love or loathe these new experimental laws, the one thing that is indisputable is that they’ve changed the way the game is played. As far as I can see you’ve only got 3 ways to play now: you either kick for territory and keep the ball alive and hope that the opposition drop a clanger, or you kick for touch, providing you’re in your own 22 and the ball hasn’t been passed back into it, or you throw caution to the wind and run the ball out of your own 22.

That you may think isn’t any different than it used to be, save that most teams tended to utilise a mixture of all the various options. The fundamental difference though, is the stricter interpretation of the rule about going off your feet at the breakdown. When other teams infringe then this ‘ruck fundamentalism’ is the best thing since sliced bread: when it goes against you, well, then frankly it’s a nonsense and officiating gone mad. Anyway, teams have to adapt their game plan depending on the opposition they’re facing. Against Gloucester and Sarries, kicking for field position worked well enough whilst not exactly proving particularly attractive to watch. Sale tried to run the ball more against Bristol and Newcastle: granted it didn’t have the crowd swinging from the rafters but it was effective. Whatever you may think about the tactics, the end I guess justifies the means: 4 games played and 4 wins. You can’t really argue with that. The Exiles though are a completely different kettle of fish.

If you kick for territory and don’t find touch, annoyingly the Notnots have the temerity to run it straight back at you: Delon, Ojo, Tagicakibau, Elvis, Mapasua, Hewat and Hodgson are lethal on the counter attack, so it’s probably best not to give it to them. If you opt for kicking to touch then the deadly duo of Casey and Kennedy will more than likely win their own set piece or disrupt your own and put you on the back foot as soon as not. So, you’re left with just the one option – run the ball out of your own 22 and use the power of your forwards and the pace of your backline. Sadly, you hit a problem there as well: the Irish rush defence is up and in your face before you can blink. Mapasua, Elvis and Steffon Armitage, let alone the rest of the forwards play right on the edge and smash anything that comes their way. If the ball goes to ground you’re no better of either, as Steffon hits those rucks like an express train. So whatever game plan you opt for, you’re caught between a rock and a hard place.

Sale opted to run the ball whenever it was on and tried to make headway by taking the ball through the phases and gaining territory. Thankfully for once the referee tried to let the game flow. Whenever it was called for, Charlie would punt the ball into space behind the advancing Irish backline or launch a bomb down Armitage’s throat: Delon though looked very comfortable under the high ball even when pressurised by McAlister or Bell, and always had support on hand to get the ball out and into space.

For the first 15 minutes the game was evenly balanced. Any attacking Irish threat was snubbed out by Sale’s mean and effective defence. Even the marauding Mapasua couldn’t find a way past Big Mac and Seabass. At the other end any attacking opportunities were dealt with brutally by Mapasua and Steffon. The scrum just about held its own though both Big Ted and Stuey Turner were having problems with Lea’aetoa and particularly young Corbisiero. Sale’s line outs were steady and providing the percentage ball was called at either 2 or 3 in the set piece, possession was generally assured, though little could be done with the clean ball as Mapasua and Elvis were in Peel’s face as soon as he tried to shift the ball out. Seabass managed to turn over one Irish set piece much to the astonishment of the Irish fans I sat with. However, he also turned over a couple of his own throws when the long ball to the back of the line out was tried. It was all pretty even until that point with the only difference being a Hewat penalty when Sale were pinged for not driving straight at a 15 metre defensive scrum.

Irish began to up the ante after that. It was almost as if they’d used the opening quarter to sound out Sale’s defence and spot any potential weaknesses. Hewat playing at stand off, and looking far more effective than when he plays at 15, began to exert more and more of an influence. He stands flat like Charlie, and latched onto the quick ball from Paul Hodgson at each breakdown getting the pill out to the flanks. Our own esteemed fly half couldn’t exert as great an influence in the second quarter as Sale were on the backfoot. At defensive scrums he took up his position at full back whilst McAlister covered the 10 channel and any potential breaks from either Steffon or Hala’ufia. It’s effective, of that there’s no doubt and it does offer him some protection, but it comes at a cost. Sale’s counter-attacking game has suffered this season because he’s playing so deep.

Whenever the opportunity presented itself, Sale were quick to take advantage and run the ball, and were rewarded for their endeavour with a penalty when Irish were pinged for not binding at the scrum . Unfortunately things started to go pear-shaped and basic errors began to creep into their game: there were too many knock ons, missed first up tackles and the ball was often spilled in contact, though with the force and ferociousness of Mapasua and Steffon’s tackling, I suppose that’s hardly surprising. The Saxon’s flanker covered every inch of turf and proved beyond doubt that he isn’t just a human wrecking ball – he’s got good hands and has lots to offer offensively. Irish’s counter-rucking game was superb and they always committed the numbers at the breakdown, usually emerging with the ball. It wasn’t only the big units who did this though: Ojo and Delon got into the thick of it whenever there was a threat in their own 22 or a sniff of an opportunity in the Sale half.

For all this attacking Irish menace, Sale’s defence stood firm and resolute. The Exiles worked the ball from one side of the park to the other but couldn’t find a way through. Hewat opted for the drop goal when it became obvious that even the combined force of Steffon and Lea’aetoa wasn’t going to breach that defensive unit. Then the wheel came off in the 37th minute.

Briggsy was pinged for not throwing straight into a 5 metre defensive line out. Irish moved the ball quickly through the scrum and attacked down the blind side. They were almost in when Chris Bell killed the ball and prevented what you’d guess was a certain score. Or that’s what it looked like. My attention and everyone else in the East stand was drawn to Coxy who went down badly as the scrum righted itself. It was obvious that the injury was serious and it was terribly saddening to watch him hobble from the field: he’s been a stand out performer this year and will be greatly missed over the next few months. Actually, forget the future; he was missed there and then as Sale’s game went to pieces after that.

By the time he’d left the field I think most people had forgotten Bell’s little act of villainy, except of course the bloke with the whistle. He gave him 10 minutes in the bin and the rest is history. Irish opted for the line out from the penalty not surprisingly, and Casey took the clean ball. Lea’aetoa and Corbisiero drove the ball forwards and Thorpe peeled off the back of the ruck and drove over in the corner. Hewat couldn’t convert from the angle, but it mattered not as you suspected the damage had already been done. Sale’s defensive record was smashed and Irish eyes were smiling at the prospect of a 9 minute slot in the second period against a depleted and back-peddling Sharks side. Even a late Charlie penalty for an Irish offside couldn’t really put a gloss on it. Technically yes, they were still in with a shout, but you kind of sensed the worst.

By and large the first few minutes of the second period were pretty much one way traffic. Sale defended manfully and bodies were put on the line, but there was a sense of inevitability about what was about to come. Sale’s handling got worse as the pressure increased. The scrum suffered and stuttered. Big Ted couldn’t get his considerable frame under the slightly ‘smaller’ Lea’aetoa and couldn’t drive up and through him. Consequently he was pinged constantly by Mr Rowden for either not getting the bind or taking the scrum down. Whether it was fair or not depends on who you support, but the guy with the whistle always wins. On the tight head side, Stuey was being given the run around by the 20 year old, New York born, under 20 international, Alex Corbisiero. He was a menace both in the set piece and in the loose: another little gem unearthed by Toby Booth.

Irish were awarded a penalty just inside the Sharks’ half after Ormsby had dropped onto a hacked punt from Delon: he managed to keep his fingers, just, but found himself isolated and was penalised for holding on. Hewat cleared to touch and Irish took play up into Sale’s 10 metres. It seemed odd to make a substitution at such a crucial juncture. Rory replaced Doc and Bruno came on at hooker. Briggsy was probably knackered and had been here, there and everywhere, but his line out throwing had been accurate by and large. Bruno’s throwing has been hit and miss for much of the season. When you’re under the cosh so close to your own line, you know that safety is the priority: play the percentage ball, retain possession and clear your lines. You don’t throw long and try to run it. So what did Sale do? You guessed it – it went long over the top of Chabal and was turned over. Irish smashed into the ruck and recycled the ball, spinning it out wide onto the left flank and neither Bruno nor Charlie could stop Hewat form touching the ball down. Bruno got smashed and is out for months with a bicep tear and Charlie got into a fight. Now that’s something you rarely see and was probably indicative of how frustrated Sale were becoming.

Briggsy was back on after barely 2 minutes and Thomas replaced the ineffective Tait who’d cut a lonely and isolated figure at full back. In fairness he hardly saw the ball and is probably still settling in with his new team mates, but you expect more from a player of his stature. Hopefully that will come sooner rather than later. Rory added a sense of urgency to Sale’s attacking play when he moved to 15 and was a threat whenever he ran the ball. He’s a natural full back who knows when its on, but also knows when to clear his lines. He gave Sale the cutting edge that had been missing. Unfortunately, even when Sale were back to 15 these rare attacking forays went unrewarded as handling errors let the Sharks down. The body count started to mount as first Seabass went down with an injury, followed by Schoey and big Mac.

Seabass managed to get to his feet and looked well and truly fired up. In spite of the punishment he was receiving and the bad calls he got from the assistant ref for a blatant trip and an obvious obstruction, he still ran the ball at the Exiles whenever possible. He was eventually taken off and replaced by Abraham, which is probably just as well as he was getting somewhat peeved at our friend running the lines and his inability to spot the obvious. Roberts replaced Stuey who looked dead on his feet after being run ragged by Corbisiero.

It was the young gun who struck next and it was probably rather fitting. It might’ve been only his fifth first team game, yet he showed fantastic potential. He latched onto a ball 10 metres from the Sale line, after a great arching break fro Delon and superb support work from Mapasua. Sale missed the first tackle on him as he barged towards the line and then proceeded to miss 2 more. It was a deserved try in the light of the amount of work he’d put in on the night. It could’ve been worse moments later when Sale desperately tried to get the ball forward as quickly as possible. Cueto floated out a long, looping pass to Charlie but it was intercepted by that man Mapasua again. Had Ojo been able to hold onto the ball, he would’ve been in because no one had the pace to match him.

You knew what was coming and on balance it was only deserved, but that fourth try was inevitable. McAlister went down again with a heavy blow to the knee and Schoey took a big bang to the back. Both should probably have left the field, but all the replacements save Wiggy had been used. Now I know he’s Mr Versatile – but donkey row? I think not.

Big Mac went onto the wing out of harms way, but was clearly in trouble and not fit for purpose by then. It was his missed first up tackle on Tagicakibau that led to the final try of the night, though the winger also evaded tackles by Charlie and Thomas. It was just reward for a complete performance and richly deserved as Irish were superior in all aspects, and made a reasonable Sale team look poor even though they weren’t as bad as a lot of people thought – they were simply outclassed on the night.

Even with only 14 men on the pitch after McAlister had hobbled off, Sale still had the chance to get on the score board. A superb looping run from Rory and some great link up play between Charlie and Lee Thomas, gifted the ball to Briggsy yards from the Irish try line, but sadly he didn’t have the legs and knocked on in a desperate effort to grab for the ball. It could’ve been a score, but it wouldn’t have made any difference.

So another year and another defeat at the Madejski. One day I’m sure we’ll win down there and I’d better be there when it happens. I can’t really complain about the result as the better team won. All you can do is congratulate the Exiles and show respect for a team that plays with initiative and endeavour. You’ve also got to doff your cap to their fitness conditioner: if he can keep Big Bob Casey running for 80 minutes, then he knows his stuff. They’ll turn over most visiting teams if they perform like that. I take heart from the performance of the younger lads in the Cardiff match at the weekend and am delighted to see that Chris Jones is fit and raring to go again.

It’s off to Claremont next and a very tough, challenging encounter. It’ll be hard, of that there’s no doubt, but it is do-able. Come on Sale – do it, not just for the team and the supporters, do it for Coxy, Bruno and Ripol: show the French that you can play with the pomp and precision of London Irish.

Sep 08 Sale v Gloucester

Dear Prudence

Ok – let’s be honest: you were expecting a battle on Friday, weren’t you? I know I was. It was going to be a very closely fought, tight game between 2 teams who expect quite rightly to be there or thereabouts at the end of the season. It was probably going to be too close to call and was more than likely that either a penalty or an inadequate refereeing performance would determine the final outcome.

Well, how wrong can you be? Sure we got a battle of sorts, though it was more one of attrition with the occasional skirmish thrown in, and yes too, we got the over-officious, zealous and infuriating officiating that seems to be par for the course these days. What was unexpected though was the manner of the victory. Sale were dominant and I’m not sure the score line adequately reflects this. Make no mistake, Gloucester are a decent side with great potential and some fantastic players, yet they weren’t given a sniff: Dean Ryan might choose to lay the blame on the shoulders of the hapless Ryan Lamb even though he was being asked to play a game that doesn’t come naturally to him, but there was far more to it than that. Sale bossed the match from the off in both attack and defence and made the team who recently beat Bath at the Rec look very ordinary indeed. Oh happy days.

From the kick off it was immediately obvious that Sale were going to take the game to Gloucester: no shrinking violets here, simply an in-your-face, no holds barred, front foot game plan. McAlister’s high floated kick off was taken by Bortalami fractionally before he was smashed by the combined force of Abraham and Ormsby. Lamb may have cleared downfield, but the ball came straight back at the Cherry and Whites: Charlie’s jinking run taking Sale back into the Gloucester half and forcing the infringement at the ruck as the visitors were pinged for going off their feet. Big Mac slotted over the kick from just inside the Gloucester half to give Sale an early lead.

Early on it looked like it could’ve turned into the contest that we all expected, as Gloucester looked to fight fire with fire: Lamb sent a neat little chip over the advancing Sale line forcing a 10 metre defensive line out and Vainikolo made one of his trademark bullocking runs before being brought to ground by Thomas. Game on, you would’ve thought. Unfortunately that didn’t take into account the man with the whistle, the IRB’s directive about policing the breakdown and 22 penalties.

The law about staying on your feet at a ruck has always been there, and in fairness hasn’t always been applied as strictly as it could’ve been. Munster amongst others have used it to their advantage over the years with Leamy, O’Connell, Hayes and O’Callaghan being past masters at flopping onto the ball at the breakdown, effectively sealing off the pill from the opposition to such an extent that even Richie McCaw would struggle to get his mitts in there. Something did need to be done and maybe some form of clarification and tinkering round the edges was to be welcomed. What no-one wanted was a zero tolerance policy that punishes every error at the breakdown and kills any momentum that an attacking team tries to generate. Even those players driven off their feet yet beyond the ball and therefore out of the frame are penalised. The ELVs were introduced to speed up the game and make it more exciting. The IRB ‘clarification’ about staying on your feet ironically, runs the risk of bringing the game to its knees.

Now I wouldn’t like to be a referee, especially now when every performance and decision you make is analysed to the nth degree by assessors, but surely there’s room for the application of a little common sense: interpretation should you’d think be the key to successful officiating. If the laws are deliberately broken to secure an unfair advantage, then penalise the offenders. If there’s no advantage gained, then leave it well alone. Spectators pay to watch rugby, not foot tennis. If I wanted to see a ball being lumped up and down an arena, I’d go to Roland-Garros. Thank goodness I wasn’t sat in the McAfee or Vernon stands with nothing to show but 35 minutes of dull fare and a stiff neck.

Where did all that come from? Suppressed anger seeping out there: better lie down in a darkened room for a while. I’ll get my coat and say no more, save come on chaps, sort it out before it kills the game, and while we’re on the subject, if this is the way it’s going to be, then make sure it applies in Super 14 too. Right, down off the soapbox now and back to business.

When it became obvious that Mr Small would blow at the slightest provocation, the game changed and stopped being a contest. No team is ever going to try to run the ball out of their own half, let alone their 22 when you’ve got a trigger-happy official: it doesn’t make sense because sod’s law says you’ll be penalised soon as not and concede 3 points. So you kick for territory and hope that your kicker’s better than theirs and that you either force a mistake from your opponents or get a slice of luck. That’s all well and good if only one of the teams does it, but when they’re both at it all you end up with is stalemate. Forget not wanting to be a ref, thank God I’m not a coach (fortunately that’s never likely to happen, so you can all breathe that collective sigh of relief!). How frustrating must it be to have a full week’s planning and preparation undermined by inconsistent officiating, or worse consistently bad refereeing?

In Charlie Hodgson, Sale have one of the best tactical kickers in the game and his astute vision and controlling of what was effectively a chess game gave the Sharks the edge in a dull and rather dreary first half. Ryan Lamb is no kicker – he’s got great hands and a quick rugby brain, but his kicking out of hand leaves a little to be desired. Dean Ryan might criticise this aspect of his game, but you know what you’re likely to get before a ball’s kicked. It’s a bit rich and, you could argue, distasteful having a pop at a player in public when you yourself set out the stall.

A further McAlister penalty was answered in kind by Olly Barkley who slotted over 2 of his own. Any attacking promise came solely from Sale. Lamont looked comfortable at full back and was imperious under the high balls that rained down on him. Chabal looked revitalised and began to show the sort of form last seen against Stade Francais: one storming run down the flank saw him make over 30 metres, leaving Big Les clutching at thin air as he tried to get him into touch. David Doherty too showed great promise and but for the timing of Lamont’s pass could’ve been over for the first try with 20 minutes on the clock and been over for a second had the Volcano not smashed him into touch.

The line out was reliable, the scrum effective and the broken field play adventurous but you got the sense that Sale were almost trying too hard, forcing passes that weren’t really on in order to break the deadlock. But it was good to see the team have a go at throwing the ball around. The conditions were perfect and the ball rotation very good, but the final pass just wasn’t on the money. Gloucester disappointingly produced very little and rarely ventured out of their own half. Defensively Sale were as solid as a rock as we’ve come to expect recently and you could almost have been forgiven for forgetting that Simpson Daniel was playing. I can’t actually remember him touching the ball, cutting a very lonely and frustrated presence on the wing.

So even Stevens at the break, 6 apiece. Philippe Saint Andre looked frustrated at the break and rightly so: territorially Sale were superior and they’d had the bulk of attacking play, yet for all the endeavour had little to show. The only advantage the Sharks had was the number of penalties conceded – 7 as opposed to Gloucester’s 5: on that basis, it seems the more you try to play with attacking intent, the more you’re penalised. When was that rule introduced?

With only a minute or two played of the second half, Sale’s game plan became obvious. Take the ball to Gloucester, use your physicality more and utilise the flanks to stretch the game. Little if anything came back from the opposition – they were too busy fending off Chabal who looked well and truly fired up. Thomas too, not content with battering Narraway from his position at first receiver on the defensive set piece, began to steamroller his way up field whenever the chance presented itself, abetted by Big Mac. The line out began to stutter a little and 3 successive set pieces were fluffed. Nonetheless, the scrum looked solid and the introduction of Faure simply bolstered this superiority. The supporters desperately wanted a score and as the minutes ticked by you could almost sense it coming. All that was needed was either a bit of a break or quick, accurate ball.

That it should come from Seabass was probably not the biggest surprise. Peel replaced Wiggy and with his first touch fed a fizzing ball out to Chabal after Faure had turned over Gloucester’s line out. Seabass peeled off the back of the set piece and charged for the line. The intent was there for all to see – he wanted it and nothing was going to stand in his way. Nothing did, and perhaps that’s rather fortunate as you suspect had anyone tried to stop him, he might well have left the field horizontally. Big Mac converted from the angle and finally Sale got the point’s margin that their enterprise had undoubtedly merited.

As if on cue, party pooper Small immediately redressed the balance by penalising the Sharks at the breakdown. Did Sale come in from the side? Who can say? If they did, it was marginal. The referee’s radar was finely tuned at the tackle area and he was able to spot infringements that few others noticed, with a little help from his friends running the lines. It’s a shame the same obsession wasn’t devoted to applying the new 5 metre offside line at the base of the scrum: according to my reading of the ELVs, it applies to Barkley and Tindall too, but you’d never have guessed it. Barkley dispatched the penalty and brought Gloucester to within one score.

The assistant was on hand to try to redress the balance even further when he attracted the referee’s attention to Rory’s tackle on Tindall. It was, I’d have to say, a fair call as Tindall was still airborne when Lamont tackled him and he did come down with a thump. The only aspect I might question was whether there was intent there. Rory never took his eyes off the ball and certainly didn’t appear to target the man, but the assistant, from a distance I might add, called it and he got his marching orders. Even when down to 14 men though, Sale rarely looked troubled. The defence this season has been awesome: there’s grit and determination there and you get the feeling it’s going to take something special to get through it: that’s a big ask at any ground, especially at fortress Edgeley. (apologies for that phrase as I hate it, but sometimes you just have to do it)

McAlister couldn’t increase the lead with his 2 penalties though it’s fair to say they were long range and from awkward angles. It probably didn’t help that Bortalami decided to demonstrate his speciality Pilates stretching slap bang in front of Big Mac. Alright, he got a telling off from the ref, but it didn’t stop him doing it. The kicking duties were passed on to Lee Thomas. He obviously couldn’t care less if the big number 4 stood there, converting a monster kick from inside his own half after Gloucester had been penalised for offside at the breakdown. Bomber’s got one hell of a boot on him. Barkley wasn’t able to respond in similar fashion when Sale were penalised at the scrum for not driving in straight.

From the restart Sale recycled the ball and Peel fed Chabal on the crash ball. He managed to make 10 yards before feeding the ball out to Big Mac. The All Black showed what a turn of pace he has by ghosting past Barkley, who’s no slouch, then cutting back in on his inside shoulder through the gap between Barkley and Lawson and darting into the Gloucester 22. He drew Narraway’s covering tackle and zipped the ball out to Doherty on the flank. The winger had the easiest of chances and dabbed the ball over the line. ‘Forward’ cried the Gloucester fans. Was it – probably, but who cares: you have to ride your luck sometimes and when you get the breaks you’ve got to accept them. Besides, it was such a classy move, it deserved it: a top notch break from a top notch player. Bomber converted from the acutest of angles, taking Sale 2 scores clear.

Bar for a final flurry from Gloucester where Sale were for once on the back foot after a 5 metre defensive line out, the Cherry and Whites offered very little. For those who wanted a true contest I suppose it was disappointing. Frankly, I’ll take the win and the points but I too was surprised by how little threat Gloucester produced. Balshaw looked very flaky at full back and even Narraway produced little of note in spite of his growing reputation. Poor old Lamb took most of the flak, and however justified some of the criticism may have been, I actually felt quite sorry for him. Dean Ryan wasn’t best pleased, but you kind’ve sense that very little does actually please him anyway. Besides, with such solid defence, even if they’d played more to their potential, I doubt whether they would’ve left Edgeley Park with anything.

Next up, the nemesis – London Irish. Last time we went down to the Madjeski Stadium we seriously underperformed. I wrote some things I possibly shouldn’t – no, scratch that, I wrote some things I genuinely believed in. This time it will be different. This is an entirely different team, a team with purpose and intent and a team that will fight to the bitter end. It’s a tough ask – there I said it again – but I’m hopeful that this time we’re up to the task. Our defensive mettle will surely be tested as the NotNots are a team that like to attack. Judging by our displays so far, we should be up to the task. We’ve also shown that given the opportunity we can score too. On such a wide open park there should be more than enough room and opportunity to carve out a few openings and make teams really start to fear us. If it turns out to be a kicking contest with few points, then I’ll take that. Without wishing to sound too like Gordon Brown, if we have to play pragmatically and conservatively to achieve our goals, then so be it. I’ll take the prudence road. Having said that though, I’d prefer to run them off the park and cast aside last season’s demons. We owe them one – well actually two, if you’re going to be pedantic!

Sep 08 Bristol v Sale

A Rose by many other name…..

It’s often said that in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. Well, apologies to anyone who suffers from a visual impairment like myself, but I have no qualms in saying that when it comes to matters relating to Sale Sharks, I’m as one-eyed as you can possibly get. Every decision that goes against my team rankles, every bad call I take as a personal affront. Yet, even though we came away from the Memorial Ground with 4 points and a new defensive Premiership record, I felt anything but regal. The journey back from any away match is never something to look forward to. Sure, when you win it can seem like your return leg up the motorway is swifter, buoyed by the satisfaction of a job well done. When you lose, well the trip home can take an eternity. Suffice it to say, the trip back from Bristol took a long time and that really sums up the feelings of those who trudged back up the M5 – yes, we were victorious, but sometimes, as I’ve said before, you can’t help but want more.

On paper you’d be forgiven for thinking this was a bit of a mismatch. Fifteen men dressed in blue with a legion of international forwards, a backline to die for and a lofty league position against a team of yeomen languishing at the bottom of the pile with a never-say-die attitude who work for each other as if their very lives depended on it. We all knew what the result would be, didn’t we? We’d all called it - Sale would cruise into overdrive and outmuscle and outclass a belligerent yet valiant Bristol side. The depth and breadth of the respective squads should’ve made the outcome inevitable – and yet it appeared that the game plan was simply ‘go out, and make sure you don’t lose.’ With a squad packed to the brim with talent and potential, wouldn’t it be refreshing if you sensed that there was sufficient confidence within the team for the coaches to just say – ‘right boys, you know you can do this: go out and win, just be positive and play to your strengths.’


Bristol, under Richard Hill, are a team who don’t like taking prisoners. Even without the injured Sidoli and with Roy Winters only making the bench, you knew as the game kicked off that Ward Smith, Budgett and Alfie To’oala would ensure that this was going to be a battle. Even with Ed Barnes playing out of position at 12, rather than his normal customary role at stand off, Bristol looked confident despite getting off to a poor Premiership start.

Bristol were immediately on the back foot from the kick off, knocking on one of McAlister’s trademark hanging kicks. From a Sale perspective, it’s refreshing to see that they no longer opt for the flat 20 yard punt, but are prepared to give the ball some air and chase after it. Granted, there’s a way to go before they’re challenging and winning clean ball from these restarts like they were doing in the Premiership winning season, but it’s good to see the intent there.

Sale were penalised by referee Rose, more of whom later, for not packing down straight. Jarvis cleared to touch from the ensuing penalty taking play to just outside the Sale 22. Sambucetti took the uncontested line out and Beveridge fed the ball out to Barnes who cut back inside towards the Sale flank. He didn’t make too much progress as he was given the traditional Welsh hello, as Lee Thomas smashed him to ground forcing the penalty as he held on. If what happened next is a sign of things to come, then there are reasons to be cheerful in the coming weeks. Peel opted for the quick tap as the Bristol defence retreated expecting a Hogdson punt down the park. He made a full 40 yards taking the ball deep into the Bristol 10 metre area, supported by Tait and Lamont. Spud took the popped pass from Peel and sprinted towards the corner. Although Arscott flew across to cover, it looked a nailed-on score – all Tait had to do was step back inside as the Bristol full back’s momentum meant he couldn’t readjust his centre of gravity. Spud chose instead to pass the ball out to Rory. Arscott made to intercept and knocked the ball and Lamont into touch, snuffing out what had been a very promising move.

From a distance it almost looked like a deliberate knock on from the Bristol full back. Mr Rose didn’t see it that way however and gave the line out to the home side. Sale fans weren’t best pleased, but in truth it was one of the few decisions that went against them all night. Every pantomime needs a villain it seems. Two seasons ago it was Jason Robinson for his deliberate pull back on David Lemi. This year it was David Rose. Howls of derision greeted most of his decisions. Who said a rose always smells sweet? Had I been a neutral, let alone a Bristolian I would’ve shared some of that displeasure. Sale definitely for once got the rub of the green with the officials. Granted, it makes a change, and whether this had any ultimate bearing on the course of the match is debatable, but I don’t expect Rosey’s in line for many free ciders for a while down there.

Although the momentum was undoubtedly with the visitors in the first quarter, they weren’t able to generate many attacking threats. The intent was definitely there. Sale took the opportunity to run the ball whenever the chance arose and in the light of the last couple of matches with the policy of kicking away possession, that in itself was refreshing. Having said that, the Sharks were still guilty of punting the ball away at times, though they did at least manage to retain the ball better than they have been doing, stringing together multiple phases of play without creating that killer opening. What was needed was a bit of luck, something that might tip the balance in their favour. Fortunately it arrived courtesy of the officials.

Another offence at the set piece was called by Rosey – he saw the collapse of the scrum as being solely down to tight head Jason Hobson. From our view in the stands it seemed more than a little harsh as Big Ted had slipped his binding. Bristol fans were suitable aggrieved as they probably saw the same thing we did. Barnes was obviously annoyed at the call and refused to release the ball to Peel, finally kicking away the ball in frustration. Anyone who’s seen David Rose officiate knows that he’s not shy when it comes to dealing the cards.Barnes got 10 minutes for his petulance. Was it an unfair call? Probably, but like Laurie Lee, I’m siding with Rosey. By the way David, did I mention the cheque’s in the post? On joking – I’m strictly a cash in brown envelope sort of guy: you know the drill, knock 3 times and ask for Louis.

Every Bristol cloud has a silver lining if you’re a Sale fan. You sensed the one man advantage was exactly what the Sharks needed at that time. McAlister converted fro around 40 metres with a sweet kick and you sensed they would kick on from there and grab the game by the scruff of the neck. Bristol though play with heart and passion: so much so that you would barely have noticed the absence of their player. Ward Smith and To’oala upped their game and actually started to take play to Sale. Granted the cutting edge wasn’t there, but they began to move the ball around and refused to let Sale pin them in their own 22. This increase in tempo seemed to unnerve the visitors and more and more errors began to creep into the Sale game, whether that be knock ons, or spilling the ball in contact. The Sharks began to look jittery and started to revert to type, hoofing the ball up field.

Peel’s passes, which had until then fizzed from the base of the scrum, started to go a little wayward, either falling behind advancing attacking backs on the flanks or one horrible occasion looping high over Charlie’s head forcing the stand off to scurry back into his own 22 and kick out on the full. Damn those Elvs. The line out, unlike the scrum had until that point functioned effectively without producing quick, clean open field ball, began to stutter as well: the percentage ball to Jonah at 2 or 3 was jettisoned in favour of the longer throw to Chabal or Ormsby at the tail. Bristol were wise to this and dealt with it efficiently.

Although the penalty count was definitely in the visitors favour, the exerted Bristol pressure started to tell, forcing the Sharks into unforced errors. Rosey may have missed the high tackle on the dangerous Lemi, much to the further annoyance of the home fans, but he didn’t miss Bruno straying offside effectively killing the move just outside his own 10 metre line after Neil Brew, Ward Smith and To’oala had stormed up the field dragging a couple of desperate defenders with them. Should that have been a card too? Well, probably if you’re going to be consistent. The lively Graeme Beveridge took a quick tap and darted over by the posts only for Rosey to call it back for taking it from the wrong spot. Marginal wasn’t really in it – it was a harsh call and just fanned the flames of discontent in the Bristol support. Even a Jarvis penalty levelling the scores could do little to quell this sense of injustice.

Bristol returned for the second half, replacing Jarvis with Barden, moving Barnes to fly half. Whatever Richard Hill said to his team at the break seemed to do the trick for they had the majority of play in the third quarter. For all the possession though, Bristol didn’t have the cutting edge. Beveridge and the Arscott brothers saw plenty of the ball but were powerless when it came to breaching the resolute and powerful Sale defence. Wave after wave of Bristol attacks were repelled with clinical efficiency. Defence though, whilst in might save a game, won’t necessarily win it for you. Against a team like Gloucester, let alone Clermont and Munster, Sale will definitely need a little more grunt and go forward. You can’t always rely on penalties and friendly officialdom for points, though McAlister was able to keep the score ticking along with 2 further beautifully struck long range penalties.

In spite of these the momentum remained with the West Country boys. They may have struggled in their two previous Premiership matches but, if they continue to play with the same sort of passion and aggression, you sense they’ll turn one or two teams over before too long. But for desperate Sale defence they could well have crossed the whitewash on a couple of occasions. Little came back from the Sharks save for a chip and chase from Chabal which was stymied by Hobson and a neat little cross field kick from Charlie to Cueto in acres of space on the flanks. Sadly there was just too much pace on the chip and the ball and Cueto went into touch.

Bristol were throwing everything but the kitchen sink at the Sharks and the casualties started to mount. Abraham was the first to depart with a nasty gash above they eye. He was replaced by Briggsy at openside. Jason White made a timely return replacing Schoey with Ormsby moving to the donkey row and Jonah was replaced by Coxy after taking a knock to the knee. This disruption took its toll. Sale barely had time to re-organise their defence when they were pinged by Rosey for going off their feet. Barden converted and suddenly from a Bristol point of view the game seemed to be back on.

In the final quarter the game began to become increasingly ragged, not just because of fatigue but also excessive use of the whistle by the officials. Bristol continued to try and run the ball, whereas Sale reverted to the up your jumper tactic without really making any headway. The home side had the opportunity to level the scores with 4 minutes remaining after Sale were once again punished for an infringement at the ruck. Had Barnes been able to take the chance, the parity in the score line would’ve undoubtedly been deserved. On the balance of play Bristol deserved at least a draw, but unfortunately for them it just wasn’t their night.

In the dying moments Barden kicked out on the full from just outside his own 22. Briggsy’s throw to the back of the line was gathered by Seabass and the forwards rumbled into gear, picking and driving their way slowly towards the Bristol line. It looked as if power would eventually determine the ultimate outcome as Sale got closer and closer to the whitewash. Bristol were penalised by Rosey for wheeling the scrum and Sale got the penalty that their forward play had arguably deserved. With only seconds to go Sale retreated: McAlister looked to be taking up a position to kick the penalty and see out the game. There wasn’t anything to be gained from another 3 points, but as long as you’ve got hold of the ball, the other lot can’t score, can they?

Seabass had other ideas and opted for the quick tap and go. Judging from the lack of support he received, it’s probably more than an educated guess to say that his team mates weren’t necessarily expecting it. Obviously with no support he hung on to the ball for grim death, but was penalised as you’d expect. The last thing you’d ever want with a score line so close is to gift the ball to the opposition, but that’s what happened. Fortunately there was neither time nor you suspect an inclination on the Bristol part to race 60 metres up the park at that late stage – better to settle for a much improved performance and a losing bonus point.

So that’s another win, the second away from home and a 100 percent record. I think everyone would’ve settled for that. None the less, it is a little worrying that we’re struggling to score tries. Philippe Saint Andre said after the game that he was pleased with the 4 points, but disappointed with the performance. He also promised tries next week. Let’s hope that’s true - against a team like Gloucester, we’re going to need them. The talent is obviously there and possibly the structures too yet, there seems to be a lack of confidence and willingness to throw caution to the wind and go for it. When you look at our backline and the quality on offer, you’ve got to wonder why they seem so reluctant to back themselves. Other teams would sell the family silver to get what we’ve got. So then, what’s the problem? Answers on a postcard please….

Sep 08 Sale v Saracens

A Switch in Nines saves ……

I’m not a great fan of reading newspaper reports about sporting occasions: you’re either left feeling disenchanted and disappointed by the lack of detail, or struck by the fact that the journalist appeared to be watching a different match to you. I prefer to draw my own conclusions about the game I’ve witnessed, even though others will inevitable disagree with the interpretations you apply or the conclusions you reach. In that respect, sport is very much like politics - everyone has an opinion regardless of whether you’ve played the game at the highest level or served as a member of Parliament.

Nevertheless, I can guess the headlines that made it to press on Saturday, following Sale’s narrow victory over Saracens: they’d be as predictable as the rain that falls on Edgeley Park. “Late Hodgson Drop Goal Rescues Sorry Sale” or “Charlie’s Kicking Rescues Stale Sharks.” They would, of course, be accurate and technically correct – that drop goal in the eleventh minute of stoppage time did hand an unlikely, some may even say, undeserved victory to Sale, but that doesn’t really tell the whole story. From what I could see, the result was determined by two half back substitutions, one enforced and the other tactical: had neither of these changes happened, it’s arguable that the result may well have been very different.

If the intention had been to hit the ground running and ‘atone’ for the sins of the London Irish match at the end of last season, then I’m afraid the plan didn’t work. Right from the kick off, Saracens had Sale on the back foot. In fact, they kept Sale penned pretty much in their own half for the first 24 minutes. De Kock and Jackson caused untold damage with their quick thinking and slick passing.

Sarries hit every ruck ferociously and committed numbers to retrieving or stealing the ball at every breakdown. Even Chris Jack playing as a back row forward was putting himself about, scavenging on the ground like a dog that gets a whiff of truffles, or offering himself up as the spare man in one of the many overlaps Saracens managed to conjure out of invention and endeavour. I know many Fezheads aren’t convince that this is his best position and would much prefer Vyvyan at blindside, but Steady Eddie Jones knows a thing or two about rugby: he didn’t get to those dizzying heights of international acclaim without showing more than a little nous and tactical acumen.

Sale’s only answer to this wave of consistent attacking rugby was to kick away possession. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one feeling that hopeless sense of déjà vu. We did too much of this last season and it didn’t work then either. Sure, by hoofing the ball up the park you at least relieve the pressure, but it’s actually quite a negative tactic and the relief it brings is only temporary. Inevitably if you don’t chase after it, it’s going to come straight back at you, particularly when you’ve got as clever and inventive a half back pairing as De Kock and Jackson.

If you also gift the ball to someone as tricky and slippery as Richard Houghton who seemed to be able to evade the majority of tackles that came at him by swivelling and dodging, you’re asking for trouble. All you need to do is to look at the Opta statistics so far this season to get a grasp of this particular problem: Sale are pretty much top of the charts when it comes to kicking out of hand, but in the bargain basement when it comes to the total number of metres made. That pretty much says it all. Sometimes it might be better to take the hit and go to ground and recycle, or even take a ‘punt’ on our star-studded backline and let them have a run out.

You could, I suppose, blame the ELVs for this, by not allowing a defending team to kick for touch if the ball is passed back into the 22. I see that as a bit of a cop-out myself: you might as well blame the goblins too. The rules have changed, like it or lump it, and you have to play the game within the new boundaries, and look for different ways to interpret these laws and exploit them to your advantage. Saracens certainly did.

What you’d have to say about the first 25 minutes is that defensively Sale are a force to be reckoned with. In spite of the consistent pressure from the lively Sarries’ backline and the combined bludgeoning force of Johnson and Borthwick, Sale refused to buckle. There’s almost seems to be a sense of defiance about the Sharks this season - a challenge as if to say, go on try it, you’re not going to get through us. Bodies were put on the line with little thought given to safety. Inevitably though, last ditch defending invariably results in giving away the occasional penalty. It kind of comes with the territory I suppose.

Sarries took the lead after the referee blew for not rolling away from the tackle. Jackson despatched the penalty efficiently and Saracens took a deserved lead after 9 minutes. This was followed by 2 further penalties – one for coming in from the side and the other for handling on the ground. After 24 minutes Saracens had a 9 nil lead and Sale had hardly ventured outside their own half. There’s little point in having a pop at the referee or the other officials: you can’t possibly be all things to all people and, let’s face it, they’re not there to try and win popularity awards.

All you can ever hope for from the officials, unless you’re in possession of certain embarrassing photos or are on nodding terms with the Cosa Nostra, is consistency and a clear interpretation of the rules – nothing more, nothing less. Fair play to Mr Debney, he was consistent, well actually I suppose you’d actually say he was consistently inconsistent, if that’s humanly possible – a rare achievement that united both sets of supporters in their condemnation, and that in itself is no mean feat. Not many officials manage to alienate everyone: you can generally find someone who’s happy somewhere, but I suspect you’d have to search long and hard on that score. Maybe his assistants should’ve been more of a help. Actually no, scrub that, that’s only going to make things messier – as you were Sir.

Defensively as mentioned earlier, Sale were immense. Offensively Sale were not that clever. The scrum struggled during the early stages and couldn’t cope with the power and aggression of the Saracens front row. Big Ted may not have had to face his nemesis in Cobus Visagie, or should that be visage, but Census Johnson proved to be equally problematic. Sale conceded two defensive scrums against the head when Sarries got the shove on. Even when the scrum did its job, there was little forward momentum and a tendency to turn the ball over in contact. No wonder Wiggy struggled to get the ball into the scrum, as by the end of the half when viewed from up in the Cheadle End, the set piece looked more like two mating spiders crabbing their ways sideways.

The line out didn’t fare much better either. Sure enough, the percentage ball to the front of line worked efficiently enough as Chris Jones managed to take most of them cleanly: the long throw to the back of the set piece was less successful: on the 2 occasions that Bruno tried this, Borthwick managed to steal the ball. Unfortunately even when Sale retained the ball they couldn’t manage to generate any attacking threat off the back of this as Sarries backline pushed up quickly quashing any threat. The contrast in the set piece was startling. Every time Borthwick managed to secure his own line out, the ball was down and zipped out by De Kock to Jackson with lightening speed, putting Sale immediately under pressure.

Unfortunately for Saracens an injury to the outstanding De Kock forced them to shuffle their deck. He came off second best in a challenge with Lamont during a rare Sale foray into enemy territory. That enforced substitution as far as I could tell completely changed the nature of the game. Moses Rauluni is no mug yet he doesn’t seem to play with the same speed of thought and adventure as De Kock. Nobody ever likes to see a player get injured, but from a personal point of view I was glad to see the ex-Saffer international leave the pitch. Had he stayed on, then who knows, but with the way he was playing you’d have to suspect the worst.

As Saracens struggled to come to terms with the change in personnel and the change in tactics, Sale began to take some initiative. Both Tait and McAlister began to run the ball out of the 22, much to the relief of the home crowd. The backline that has many a rugby fan drooling started to tantalise, whilst not necessarily delivering what everyone wanted. Anyway, at least we were playing in their half and that was a start. Exerted pressure from the Sale midfield caught Jackson napping and he kicked to touch, forgetting the ball had been passed back into his own 22. From the resulting set piece on the Saracens 10 metre line, Owen was pinged for killing the ball. Charlie duly despatched the penalty, finally getting Sale on to the scoreboard after 32 minutes.

The pressure that Sale began to wield started to tell on the nervy looking Saracens defence. Bolstered by the momentum, Sale and especially McAlister began to open up a little. A beautifully double-miss pass from Big Mac took out both Sorrell and Powell, leaving Doc in acres of space on the wing. Unfortunately he didn’t quite have the legs to finish the move and he was snagged by Rodd Penney’s despairing lunge.

Both Lamont and Tait began to gradually exert more of an influence on the game. In fact it was Rory who forced the knock on that gave Sale an attacking scrum on the Saracens’ 10 metre line. Charlie moved to full back, with McAlister covering the 10 channel and Tait switching to outside centre. The ball was moved quickly through the scrum and out to Tait. He was brought to ground and turned over the ball, but Jack was penalised for not releasing. Charlie converted and narrowed the deficit, but Saracens began to recover some of their earlier composure and once more started to take the game to the Sharks. Johnson powered his way up the centre into Sale’s 22 and Andy Saull took the ball on from there, sidestepping Cockbain. It looked to all intents and purposes that he’d scored beside the posts, but fortunately, from a Sale perspective at least, Mr Debney adjudged that the ball had been knocked on.

Hodgson did get one final chance to even the scores before the whistle blew for halftime. Owen was penalised by the referee for killing the ball, after an attack involving Charlie, Big Mac and Lamont. Unfortunately his kick drifted wide of the uprights, but at least they left the field with the scores looking slightly more respectable than they had 16 minutes earlier.

McAlister took over kicking duties and restarts in the second half. Little seemed to have changed tactically, save for extra height on the ball at restarts, allowing Seabass and Abraham more opportunity to get up the park and challenge for the ball, even if ultimately they didn’t win it. At the back of the scrum, which still struggled against the power and aggression of Saracens, Seabass began to act more conservatively, opting to secure the ball first and foremost, rather than using his body as a battering ram - a tactic Saracens were prepared for. It paid dividends almost immediately as Saracens were penalised twice in the first 6 minutes for killing the ball. McAlister converted both penalties, the second from virtually on the halfway line.

With the score in Sale’s favour, you kind of hoped that we’d take the game to them and try to seize the initiative. Saracens though are a team that shouldn’t be underrated. They are often criticised as being a team of underachievers, but you sense that this season under Steady Eddie, that may be about to change. They don’t wilt under pressure and I suspect will be there or thereabouts at the end of the season. They immediately hit back with a penalty of their own after Wiggy was pinged for feeding the scrum. How many times have we all seen this happen without any consequences? Lots, I hear you say and I have to agree, but old eagle-eyes Debney spotted it and called it. In fairness to Wiggy, how he was supposed to get the ball into the scrum when it was travelling quicker sideways than he could run backwards, I don’t know, but that was effectively his last involvement in the game. He was replaced by Peel after Jackson slotted over the penalty and evened the scores once again.

The introduction of Peel gave Sale the kind of edge that Saracens had had when De Kock was strutting his stuff in the first half. His speed of thought and quick, one-movement pass give Sale an advantage and an extra yard of time. His sense of anticipation is such that he’s on the spot before play has broken down and seems to know what he wants to do with the ball before he stoops to pick it up. When everyone is tuned in to his wavelength and knows his game inside out, Sale should have an extra string to add to its bow. The exerted pressure of high octane, non-stop attacking rugby will force many opposing teams into making mistakes in future, or you’d hope so at least.

The difference he made to the speed and direction of play was immediately obvious. Ball retention went up by a considerable margin and Sale at last were able to string together multiple phases of play and stretch Sarries in all different directions. Still, they couldn’t break the resolute opposition defence. The Fezheads are obviously just as adamant that their defence won’t be breached as the Sharks are. Sale were awarded another penalty 20 minutes into the half when Borthwick took out Chris Jones in the air at an attacking 15 metre line out. Big Mac converted and restored the 3 point margin, but Sarries were soon back on level terms after a bit of handbags between Faure and Visagie when Sale had already been penalised for killing the ball in their own 22. Jackson converted and it was even-stevens again.

As the game moved into its final moments, both teams struggled to find their cutting edges. Saracens were able to string together good periods of play where they managed to keep the ball through several phases, but they couldn’t quite find their teeth. Twice Jackson opted to go for the banker and nail a drop goal, rather than retain the ball and probe for the opening. Fortunately for Sale, both his attempts skewed horribly wide.

Sale too were adept at keeping hold of the ball. In the last 10 minutes each team tried to find that little gap, that chink in the armour that would give them the final advantage, and with it almost certain victory. But like 2 heavyweights, neither side was prepared to yield first. It seemed like the officials had sealed the fate of the match when the assistant referee – remember him, the one I said should become more involved – flagged for what he deemed to be an offence, Serves me right really: next time I’ll keep my thoughts to myself. After a relatively innocuous coming together between Big Mac and Penney, Sale were penalised for deliberate obstruction.

Yes there was a collision, but I think to call it deliberate is a bit rich. McAlister stood his ground that’s all. The ref didn’t call it and seemed happy to play on, but his assistant was adamant. Now Penney did go down rather spectacularly – so much so that one would’ve thought he’d been shot. A quick glance round the stadium revealed that there were no snipers with telescopic sites though. Penney was back on his feet and laughing and high-fiving his colleagues after a quick rub down with the magic sponge. No harm done then? Well actually there was - a kickable penalty in the dying minutes of a closely fought game. Jackson missed by some margin, so maybe justice was done after all. Maybe the little prayer I whispered did the trick, or maybe it was just a rotten kick. Who knows? Who cares? The scores were still even.

With a last throw of the dice, Sale replaced Coxy with new boy Kris Ormsby. The Kiwi immediately showed what his game is all about as he gathered the ball and stormed up the field. From that small cameo, you sort of get the impression that this is a guy who won’t take any prisoners. In the dying minutes of an eternally long stoppage time, Sale threw everything including the sink at Saracens. The volume in the stadium escalated, as the crowd roared on the team hoping to give them that final advantage. It was heart in mouth time, and though exciting to watch, I’m not sure my ticker could put up with too much of that every time.

With the final play of the match, Ormsby seized the ball and burst clear of the despairing Saracens defence. They tried to bring him down, but the guy just kept on going. Finally Sarries managed to stop his momentum, but before they could re-gather and organise their defensive shape, Peel dug the ball out and in no time the ball was out with Charlie under the posts and he dropped the winning kick. There was genuine elation, not just amongst the fans, but on the pitch too – you could be forgiven for thinking the team thought they’d won the cup or something. They were delirious – I needed a paper bag to overcome the hyperventilation.

So, 2 wins in 2 games. I defy anyone to say that’s not a good start to the season. Even those who aren’t always best pleased might have to accept that we’re doing quite well – even if they do so begrudgingly. Having said that though, there are obviously issues that need to be addressed. Why can’t we dominate a team? Why are we finding it so difficult to score tries? Why isn’t our backline scoring for fun and running riot? Well, those are questions that those in charge will have to answer and find solutions to. A win is a win and that’s fair enough, but sometimes you’d just like more. If we can play quite poorly at times and still win, then maybe, just maybe, we’ll play well one day and win with style. We’ve got the players for it: all we need is the performance that everyone knows we’re capable of delivering.

By the way, that’d better not happen at a match that I’m absent from.

Sep 08 Newcastle v Sale

Close But No Cigar


It was never going to be the walk in the park that some had dared to predict: even I was feeling buoyant and a little overly optimistic, forecasting a 12 point victory. Mind you, had Tom May not smashed Spud into touch with that try-saving tackle just before half time, I might’ve been on a winner. The bottom line is that we finally broke the Kingston Park hoodoo and got the victory that’s eluded us for the last 16 years. Points, as Hughie Green often repeated, mean prizes. Granted not many Sharks fans left Newcastle salivating at the spectacle they’d just witnessed but, I for one was prepared to cut the boys some slack, after all, it was the first game of a new season, with new rules and a glut of new players. So I drove home feeling relatively chuffed, but with a slight sense of regret that we hadn’t been able to take the game by the scruff of the neck.

The drive up to the north east on the Saturday was ‘entertaining’: it’s not often you get the chance to plough through rivers that had sprung up where once tarmac had stood; but, rugby’s rugby and we had to get there. It didn’t matter that I felt more like Noah than Nelson Piquet: we were on a mission. Given Saturday’s monsoon and the heavy north east rain on the morning of the game, you have to say that the Kingston Park ground staff did a remarkable job. The ground wasn’t the quagmire we had all foreseen – in fact it looked incredibly lush, and really only began to cut up at the set piece. It was all set up for a running, if slightly damp, game of open, running rugby, and on paper at least, our International backline had the edge. Sadly, we don’t play the game on paper and have to settle for nature’s alternative.

The first 5 minutes were nervy, with neither side wanting to over-commit or make the first mistake. From the kick off the Falcons launched the ball into Sale’s 22 and that’s pretty much where it stayed until the players got their sea legs. The ELVs were obviously playing their part: gone was the option of launching the ball into Row Z to clear the pressure. In stead the ball was hoofed up field, only for a new Falcons attack to be launched. In the face of this, Sale’s defence was, as you’d expect, resolute and you could see that they were not in the mood to let the opposition get even a sniff of the try line. No one exemplified this ‘no way, José’ attitude more than Corcho Lobbe, the new Club captain: his drive, determination and leadership on the pitch will serve the team well over the course of the next few months.

The first hint of what the new-look Sale backline could potentially achieve came from Doherty. Following a half break from Peel and a lovely floated pass from Charlie, Doc chipped the ball up the right wing and gave chase. He’s a real speedster in the Stan mould and could well prosper as the season progresses if the team play with their heads up. He managed to somehow pick the ball up off his bootstraps and offload to, Schoey of all players; how on earth he managed to keep up with him I’ll never know, but can only surmise that pre-season training worked wonders. Sadly the ball was knocked on and the threat was temporarily quashed.

The writing on the wall was clear none the less. The Falcons were standing off Charlie for some unknown reason giving him time and space. Whether this was a conscious ploy, or just down to rustiness, was difficult to tell, but it was a dangerous tactic. When Sale started to move the ball at pace and switch directions and run the angles, Newcastle looked all at sea. It was difficult to tell where the threat was likely to come from, with Charlie, Peel, Big Mac, Cueto, Doherty and Tait all taking advance attacking positions.

It looked inevitable that the breakthrough would come sooner rather than later, and it did thanks to a lovely interchange of passes between Charlie and Peel, and a deft shimmy from the fly half who found his opposite number, new boy Rory Clegg, woefully exposed and out of position. Charlie had support from both Seabass on his inside and Doc on the flank, but needed neither as he stepped inside the desperate lunge of May and sprinted over to dab the ball down in the corner. He didn’t manage to convert, even though the infamous KP wind wasn’t swirling as it normally does, but you got the feeling that the Sharks had got the measure of the Falcons and would start to turn it on from there on in.

Unfortunately that didn’t happen. Both teams opted to either hoik the ball in to the air and hope for the opposition to make a mistake or stick with the reliable, but dull tactic of picking and going. Neither side made too much headway in either department. McAlister converted a relatively straightforward penalty after a Falcons’ offside and young Clegg responded with a penalty for the Falcons after Schoey was caught offside. What the game was calling out for was an injection of pace and a bit of variety, but for some reason or other it didn’t come. Newcastle had the edge in the scrum and by and large, Sale seemed to boss the line out with both Briggsy and Jones earning their corn.

Sale conceded another penalty for an infringement at a defensive ruck, after Seabass had called the mark in his own 22, and surprised the crowd, and I suspect himself, by clearing to touch with his left foot and making good distance. The ball broke down during the resultant maul and was turned over. Clegg converted the penalty with a little help from the upright, and it seemed to spur on the Falcons who increasingly began to take the game to Sale. This obviously created some space and Peel and Charlie were the first to take advantage of this. All the action was drawn over to the left flank until Peel switched play and Charlie floated the ball out to Thomas. He spotted Tait on the overlap. It looked odds on that Spud would mark his Sharks’ debut with a try as he steamed towards the corner, but Tom May had other ideas. He clattered into Spud on the 5 metre line taking both man and ball into touch, with a tackle that was reminiscent of Hernandez’ smash of Tuilagi in last year’s Heineken Cup. From the expression on May’s face there was a great sense of satisfaction in smashing his former colleague and obviously a little unfinished business.

The first half petered out with little other of note except a McAlister conversion after Chris Jones had been taken out when trying to steal a Falcons line out. Big Mac converted and the sides went in for the break with Sale leading by 5 points. Kingston Park was eerily quiet and you could sense both sets of supporters were expectant and waiting for things to catch light in the second half. Sadly they didn’t.

Newcastle learned from their loose play in the first half and pushed up, giving neither Charlie nor Big Mac any space or time. They still opted for the high ball, but the chasing pack seemed to lack conviction. When they were prepared to chance their arms and run the ball, they looked far more dangerous. Grindall made a nuisance of himself and Rudd, Alex Tait and May looked for any openings. But for a despairing lunge from Thomas who threw himself on the ball on the Sale try line, Newcastle could well have been on even terms.

Sale rarely threatened during the second half, though not through lack of effort. Rather it was the strong and determined Falcons’ defence that held the Sharks at bay. For all the waves of attack, all that Sale could muster was a McAlister penalty after Newcastle were pinged for handling on the floor. He dispatched this as you would expect. He took all further place kicks and restarts as well, leaving the Sale supporters wondering whether Charlie had picked up a knock. If he had, he seemed to shrug it off, unlike Chabal who was a marked man – literally. So much so he had to leave the field after receiving extensive treatment to what looked like a neck injury. He was replaced by Coxy who slotted into the second row with Jonah moving to 8.

Newcastle upped the pressure and momentum and had the Sharks on the back foot for a good 10 minutes, but they couldn’t find a way through the resolute Sale defence. Even when down a man after Abraham had been binned for a late challenge on Clegg, Sale held firm. There were times when the Falcons had a man over, yet they chose to take the ball to ground. Even stranger was the fact that they opted for a drop goal and settled for 3 points, rather than keeping up the pressure when camped in the Sharks 10 metre area. Maybe they too had realised that today the gates had been bolted well and truly and at least that way they got back in losing bonus point range. Who can tell?

As they say, a win’s a win and all that, and we did get the elusive victory and 4 points. At the time it felt like a disappointment as many believed we could’ve put the game well beyond reach had we gone for width and pace. But it wasn’t meant to be. Looking around the other results, we did ok considering no other team managed to get a try bonus point. Maybe the first day blues got to everybody.

What’s important is the away win and a positive start. If we can build on this platform and get the other monkey off our backs by winning at Castle Grim, then I’ll be a happy bunny. You can’t help but want more – something that would really quicken the pulse and excite. Maybe that’s what’s in store for us over the coming months. Who knows? We can all only hope, but on yesterday’s performance, all you can really say is, close, but no cigar.

Jan 08 Montpellier v Sale

Montpellier v Sale Sharks

There is a light that never goes out


Without wishing to sound like a Marks and Spencer’s advert, I feel I should make something plain. This column isn’t just a review of a game of rugby, a warts and all view of the events of the last week painting a picture of all that happened in the game, it’s a supporter’s column. It does what it says on the tin. Written by and for any Sale Sharks’ fans who should care to read it, it purports to be nothing other than one man’s interpretation of what happened. You might not agree, and that is your right, but I’m still entitled to say what I think. It might not always make for pleasant reading, but you can only write about what you witness and try to be as fair and objective as you can.

I was surprised that the London Irish review attracted such criticism. Frankly, having re-read it, I don’t think the piece was as harsh as some people have claimed: you should’ve heard what the Sale supporters were saying at the Madesjki Stadium if you want to know what criticism truly is. I stand by every word and can honestly say that even though I am an eternal optimist, there was nothing positive to take from that game: that was the most disappointing thing about the day.

I’m not Stephen Jones or Brian Moore: clearly I’m not Mick Cleary either. I never will be, nor would I want to be. I’m a Sale Sharks supporter who follows his team wherever and whenever he can. If the team don’t perform, I have every right as a paying punter to express my opinions. If some take offence at what’s been written, then the answer lies in their own hands: if you disagree, then either don’t read the column or alternatively write one yourself. The only drawback I feel obliged to highlight, is that you won’t get paid for your efforts should you choose to be such a scribe. That may in fact be one of the reasons why you won’t find Stephen Jones putting pen to paper here.

Although I may at times be critical, I will always be back for more. That’s not because I’m a glutton for punishment, it’s because I care. That’s the point about being a supporter – you can’t change your allegiance just because things aren’t going the way you’d like. Supporting a sporting team is all about passion, dedication and commitment: you can’t just walk away or change brands if you’re dissatisfied with the product. You have to be able to take the highs and the lows and still be loyal and true to your team. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I would continue to watch Sale Sharks even if they played on a paddy field.

The Stade Yves Du Manoir is about as far away from a paddy field as you’re ever likely to get. The stadium has only recently been completed and was the home base for the Australian national side during the World Cup. What a fantastic setting and what a superb ground, though I should point out, if anyone wishes to travel there at some future stage, I’d pack the crampons and oxygen tanks. The seats in the Eden Park stand were positioned roughly at the same altitude as some low flying aircraft: if you’ve a fear of heights, then I’d probably give it a miss. Having said that, the view was superb. All in all it is a splendid place in which to watch a rugby match. It’s a shame then that only one team seemed to want to play.
The Hérault side showed back at Edgeley Park earlier in the competition that they were no pushovers. For 35 minutes they had Sale rattled with aggressive and committed rugby. Had it not been for a virtuoso try from Charlie Hodgson, they could’ve gone in at half time on an equal footing. Their home record speaks volumes for itself: they are a proud team who will always fight no matter what the odds are. If anyone thought the win and the bonus point were there for the taking, they were kidding themselves. This was always likely to be the most difficult fixture in the group.

Montpellier are a strong and fiercely competitive side with some quality players. Toleafoa, Britz and Hancke might not be the most recognisable names, but they always give their all for the team. In Picamoles they have arguably one of the future superstars of French rugby. The former under 21 International back row forward might not have made Marc Lièvremont’s final cut for the Six Nations this time, losing out to Vermeulen, Dusautoir, Bonnaire and Quedraogo, but his chance will inevitably come. In his back row battle with Chabal, most agreed he probably shaded it. He was everywhere, ferreting for the ball whenever he could and taking the game to Sale with lung-bursting, bullocking runs.

Montpellier set their stall out from the whistle and pressed the Sharks back with a blitz defence that even Shaun Edwards would’ve been proud of. For the first 20 minutes Sale struggled to get out of their own half. There were brief signs of hope as Hodgson, McAlister and Bell started to throw the ball around, but these were quickly snuffed out by the Héraults. Apart from some daredevil attempts to run the ball out of their own 22, Sale failed to make any headway against the determined Montpellier defence. The best they muster were a couple of penalties which McAlister duly put away, though the Scottish referee’s decision-making was, at best, erratic – more of him later.

Montpellier were just as aggressive in attack with Kuzbik and Sarraméa making a nuisance of themselves. Cueto didn’t take too kindly to Kuzbik’s in-your-face style of play. Admittedly he did play on the edge but it was effective. After a prolonged period of possession, Montpellier were finally able to breach Sale’s defence which had, up until that point, looked comfortable if a little overstretched. A cross-field move from the right flank ended with a deft inside pass from Picamoles to Britz who raced into the corner to touch down. Todeschini converted from the touch line to give Montpellier a deserved lead.

From a Sale supporters’ point of view there wasn’t really a lot to sing and dance about: given the height and rake of the stand, that was perhaps just as well or we may have finished up 30 rows down. I’m pretty sure Sale’s lacklustre showing wasn’t done for the health and welfare of the supporters though. Having said that, McAlister did demonstrate why he is so highly rated in world rugby. Although the team around him wasn’t performing to the standards that he and we expect, he continued to give his all and was finally rewarded with a try that was really conjured out of nothing. He seized upon a rare Hérault misplaced pass and cut inside Lespinas and Stoïca before powering into the corner for a superb individual score. He couldn’t convert from the acute angle, but at least he gave some hope to the travelling fans as the half finished Montpellier 7, Luke McAlister 11.

There was as one might expect a great deal of wailing and gnashing of teeth during the interval. Questions were asked about why Sale seemed to lack spark and fire and a few comments made about how we should be able to despatch a team lie Montpellier with ease. What some may have failed to notice is that Montpellier had played exceptionally well and on the balance of play deserved to have the lead. Had the referee not been so one-eyed they probably would have.

Every one of the travelling contingent expected much more of Sale during the second half. It’s been a peculiarity of their game this season that they only start to play after an ear bashing at half time from Philippe Saint André. Montpellier had tired visibly during the second half at Edgeley Park, and I think many supporters fancied a repeat performance with the Sharks going on to a comfortable win. That didn’t happen – in fact, if anything Montpellier got stronger and it was Sale who appeared to wilt.

Mr McPherson, the referee, obviously played by a different set of rules to everyone else. The crowd were incensed by some of his decisions, prompting one Montpellier supporter to ask just how much we paid him. How Sale managed to win so many penalties and generally be on the right side of so many dubious decisions, I know not. Lilo Martens was clearly in touch when he took the Garryowen from Buada, but the referee seemed to think that the ball was already out when he took it. It wasn’t but he’s the man with the whistle.

For all the possession Sale had, they couldn’t make any inroads into the resolute Hérault defence. Picamoles and Hancke were immense and refused to take a backward step. Even when Sarraméa was carded for deliberately killing the ball, the numerical advantage was not made to pay. All that Sale could muster was another McAlister penalty. Even the injection of fresh legs with Mayor, Bruno and Evans didn’t alter the course or pattern of the game. Sale kicked away possession needlessly and backed off waiting for the counter-attack.

Given the amount of territory and ball that Montpellier had, it was inevitable that they would score. Jason White was brought on, replacing Schofield and Chabal moved to the second row to shore up the defence, but it was to no avail. Cueto was carded at around the same time that Sarraméa returned to the pitch, leaving Sale under pressure and understaffed.

Lund was penalised by the referee for deliberately knocking the ball on – one decision he did actually get right. Montpellier chose to go for the corner rather than the posts and you sensed the worst. A clean line-out take and a bit of grunt and Montpellier were over the Sale line. Deservingly it was that man Picamoles who scored. Todeschini levelled the scores with his conversion and things didn’t look too good if you were a Sale supporter.

The Sharks, urged on by a clearly frustrated McAlister pressed as hard as they could for the last 10 minutes: to guarantee a home quarter and semi final, a win was essential. Montpellier were penalised for not rolling away just inside their own half and Sale were given a penalty. Perhaps it was a sign of the growing desperation that McAlister opted to kick for the posts inspite of the distance. His kick fell just short, but the breathlessness of the last ditch Sale attacks at least gave some glimmer of hope.

Although time was up Sale were awarded a 5 metre scrum after Montpellier knocked on. As hard as Sale tried they could not force the Hérault team to back off and retreat. The referee was patience personified as the scrum continued to collapse or stand up time after time. As Montpellier were desperate to keep the scores as they were and ensure their own qualification and Sale were intent upon stealing a win, it was kind of inevitable that the penalty should finally be awarded.

With the final kick of the match McAlister lofted a lovely floated shot towards the sticks only to see it glance off the upright and bounce out. We all saw it, and so did the Montpellier supporters. Mr McPherson apparently didn’t and asked the fourth official to adjudicate. Bizarre isn’t the word to describe the mood or state of confusion in the stadium. I’ve never personally seen it done before, nor had any of the other supporters I spoke to. Still, the replays clearly showed the kick had bounced out and that was it, game over: Montpellier - 14, Luke McAlister -14.

In the end it was a sad way to finish the league campaign in Europe. Perhaps the most telling part was that you would think Sale had lost given the look on the supporters’ faces. To Montpellier and their fans, the draw was as good as a cup win and the elation was there for all to see. They fully deserved the draw, if not the win. They were undoubtedly the better team on the night and played with a style and plan that frustrated Sale from the off.

I don’t know what people will make of the result, but there will obviously be a bit of a backlash at the disappointing showing. Maybe had the players arrived earlier and not been forced to wait at an airport until 10 o’clock on the night before the match, things might’ve been different. Had we played the whole game the way we played the last 15 minutes, we might’ve come away with 4 points rather than 2. Whatever questions will be raked over during the coming days, the one point not to lose sight of is that wining in France is never easy. If you play against a decent team who never give up or give in, maybe the draw wasn’t that bad a result. But the performances will have to be infinitely better if Sale are to progress any further in this competition.