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!
Monday, September 29, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
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….
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….
Sunday, September 14, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Jan 08 London Irish v Sale
London Irish v Sale Sharks
Frankly Mr Shankly
You can say what you like or shoot me down in flames, but I always believed Bill Shankly had a point when he claimed competitive sport could be more important than the mere issue of life and death. In the heat of the moment, winning can mean everything. Ok, so it might’ve been a glib, off-the-cuff remark, but it encapsulates the very essence of what it means to be a supporter. Obviously there are undoubtedly far more important things to dwell on in life: there are untold tragedies happening on a daily basis both domestically and globally. I accept that if you look at things objectively in the cold light of day, these are the events that should be of greater importance and significance. However when you’re a passionate supporter, sometimes logic can fly out of the window. Supporting your team becomes all-consuming and can dominate the very core of your existence: it can sometimes feel like nothing else is as important.
If you spend much of your hard-earned dosh and devote considerable time to following your Club around the far corners of this green and wet land, then in return all you ask is that your team shares your passion and commitment and gives its all for the common cause: the very least you would expect is that the team turn up in spirit as well as in person. After witnessing Sunday’s inglorious and spineless surrender at the Madejski Stadium, I’m no longer sure that truly is the case. If anyone would’ve ever said to me that I’d one day reach the stage where I’d feel like cutting out the middle man and just throwing my money down the nearest grid, then I’d have laughed in their face. Now, well I’m no longer quite so cock-sure. Perhaps I’ve been deluding myself all these years. Frankly Mr Shankly you might’ve been wrong - it is only a game after all, or at least it appears that way judging by the way some players seemed to approach it.
Any team, no matter how good, would miss the creative spark and influence that someone like Charlie Hodgson brings to the team. Last season alone is testament to that fact. To discover just before kick off that he would be absent with a knee injury was a blow. However, there is strength and depth at Sale and as they say, one man’s loss is another man’s opportunity. It was surprising then to see McAlister chosen in the three quarters. Personally I questioned whether he would’ve been better played at inside centre with Mayor outside him and Thomas inside at 10. The McAlister/Thomas combination has after all just started to bear fruit. Anyway, what do I know? Not a lot really, except that Hodgson plays flatter than any other fly half thereby creating space and time for others. If that’s not an available option, then playing McAlister at 12 I believe would be the alternative creative channel: his ability to run with the ball, his strength and his ability to step off either foot would open up space for others, like Thomas to exploit and make up for Charlie’s absence.
To say it began with not so much a bang as a whimper is being kind beyond the call of duty. Sale never seem to play for the first 20 minutes in any match. Whether this is a conscious ploy to try and grind the opposition down with physicality, or simply down to having too high an opinion of their own abilities, I know not. What I do know is that other teams always take advantage of this and Sale tend to spend half the match playing catch up.
The Sharks took the kick off clumsily, as has been customary all season and failed to clear their lines. The ball was taken into contact and the ruck took for ever to clear - another characteristic of this season’s play. A half break by McAlister failed to lead anywhere as Cueto’s pass was intercepted by Ojo. His devastating dart down by the flank and his clever offload to Paice should’ve resulted in the first try of the game. Only superb tackling back by McAlister prevented it as he clung on to Paice’s back and dragged him to ground. However, Sale’s drift defence was powerless to stop the influential Geraghty, playing in an unaccustomed role at 12, from spinning the ball out wide to Armitage. He drew his man, Mayor, and fed the ball to Tagicakibau. Ripol had no chance of stopping the marauding winger. Armitage converted from out wide and left Sale floundering 7 points adrift with only 2 minutes played. You sensed this was going to be a very long and painful afternoon.
Make no mistakes about it, Sale were not just poor, they were woeful. It’s the worst I’ve seen them play this season. The only thing that was half-decent was the scrum: then again when you have the beef of Sheridan, Bruno and Lewis-Roberts in the front row, you wouldn’t really expect anything else. Everything else was utterly dire. Basic skills were forgotten, the line out was a shambles and our backline adopted the unusual tactic of trying to trap the ball with their feet, rather than catching it. This isn’t football.
It felt like every ball was either knocked on or turned over. Sale couldn’t manage to string more than 2 phases of play together without gifting possession to the Exiles. At every breakdown Sale only committed one or two players to forage for the ball: London Irish responded with three or four, driving the Sale flankers back and always gaining possession. It was actually the first time in a long while that I’ve felt embarrassed by the team’s performance. It was like watching a scratch team. Any independent observer would be forgiven for thinking that the 15 players had never been on the same park together before. As one young Irish supporter in front of me kept shouting –“Sale Sharks, you’re rubbish. Who sponsors you then? Anchor butter?” Obviously that got a laugh, yet it was probably closer to the truth than you could possibly imagine.
Even when Armitage was sin-binned for tripping Cueto, Sale couldn’t make the numerical advantage pay. With such an error strewn display they could conceivably still have lost had the Exiles only had 10 men on the field. Irish are a decent team, but they’re not world beaters. They played good, flowing, heads up rugby and in Geraghty they’ve unearthed a gem. The problem is they were there for the taking. They were made to look better than they were and the reason for that is simple. Sale were inept, clueless and shambolic.
Our only plan this season it appears is to hoist continuous bombs into the opposing half and hope to gain some territorial advantage. I’ve said it so many times I’m beginning to bore myself, but it’s worth saying again because eventually the penny has to drop. Garryowens are only useful if you’re prepared to commit the numbers to chase the ball, or at least challenge and harry the receiver. There’s absolutely no point in kicking away possession and then lolloping up the field after it. You don’t regain possession, you end up out of position and you’re forced on to the back foot. If Sale had a Plan B then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad: the problem is, they often don’t even seem to have a Plan A.
McAlister tried his hardest, of that there’s no doubt. He was always prepared to run with the ball in hand. Unfortunately much of what he tried didn’t come off either due to basic handling errors or the rest of the backs not tuning into his wavelength. It was unfortunate because he, more than anyone else, put in the hard graft and was always looking for openings. He was rewarded for his efforts with a ninth minute penalty after Irish were penalised for not rolling away from the tackle. He could have reduced the gap further on 18 minutes, but his kick floated inches wide of the uprights.
Looked at dispassionately, penalties were probably the only hope that Sale had of winning the match. Their open play was very poor and there was no incisiveness or cutting edge. Even when a try beckoned Sale somehow managed to fluff it. Chabal received the ball 10 metres from the Irish line and straightened his run with one of characteristic bullish charges. He drew his man and just had to offload to his right and the try was a certainty. Even allowing for the fact that the overlapping man was tight head Eifion Roberts, the score looked nailed on. The final pass, however, was wayward: even an acrobat would’ve struggled to get his hands on that ball. Still, it was a slight improvement on passing the ball directly out to the 16th man, the crowd, as had happened a number of times earlier. I know Philippe has often commented on the value of the 16th man – but I didn’t realise he wanted us to play as well.
Just when it seemed things could get no worse, the inevitable happened. Sale once again messed up the lineout in their own 22 and Irish were awarded an attacking scrum. The scrum collapsed twice and the referee awarded Irish a penalty. A quick tap from Hodgson led to a sweeping Irish move across field, as the ball was shipped from Hickey to Geraghty. He stepped inside Mayor and fed a lovely angled pass to Tiesi, giving him a free run for the line. Armitage couldn’t convert but the damage was done. For a defence that had performed manfully during the course of the last 7 games, it was shocking to see just how easy it was for London Irish to carve their way through.
The final 6 minutes of the half lasted an eternity. If there was a game-plan it wasn’t immediately obvious. It wasn’t just the Sale supporters who were scratching their heads: many Exiles fans were actually shocked by the standard of rugby of a team tipped for a top four finish. Looking down at my notepad I realised I must have phased out for the last few minutes and drifted off to a better place, for as Mr Davey blew for the halftime respite, the only words I appeared to have written were dull, dire, dreary, dreadful, disastrous and dross. The prospect of another 40 minutes of that standard of fare was enough to make one want to run for the hills.
Were teacups thrown in the dressing room or boots kicked across the floor? Who knows? They certainly should’ve been. Whatever was said during the break didn’t work. Sale were on the back foot again right from the off. A dreadful pass from Laharrague to McAlister caught the backline flat– well when I say to, I mean behind and somewhere in the vicinity. Needless to say the ball was lost. A quick interchange between Geraghty and Hickey and before you could blink Armitage was in under the posts to rub further salt into the wound.
If the plan had been to batter Irish into submission, paving the way for our backline to run riot later on, then it failed spectacularly. Somebody forgot to tell Kennedy, Casey, Paice, Dermody and Lea’aetoa: if anything they seemed to get stronger during the second half and were even more fired up. Even Hodgson and Armitage were up for a fight with anyone – not the best of ideas when Sheridan’s around, but you’ve got to hand it to them, they were well and truly wired.
Any Sale attempt to run the ball, usually started by either McAlister or Laharrague barely lasted more than a couple of phases before stalling for a multitude of different reasons, all of them bad: a misplaced pass, a knock on, a forward pass or some other disaster. The only hope that Sale had was to try to keep things tight and nick the penalties as they were awarded as Irish were playing on the edge of legality all the time. Trying to play tight is difficult at the best of times, but when you’re having one of those days where nothing goes right, it’s well nigh impossible, and there’s always a looming possibility that you’ll fall for the sucker punch. Had the pass from Geraghty to Armitage not been adjudged to be marginally forward, Irish would’ve secured the bonus point.
McAlister reduced the deficit with a penalty on 46 minutes after the Exiles were penalised for crossing, and successfully kicked another 9 minutes later after Kennedy was penalised for offside. Apart from that Sale rarely threatened the Irish 22. There were, at least, 2 moments to lift the spirits – a half break from Laharrague that Ripol couldn’t get to, and surprisingly a move that almost produced 3 phase rugby but the final pass to Cueto was adjudged to be forward. It was of course, but sometimes you hope the touch judge is looking away and you keep your fingers crossed. It was indicative of the general laissez faire approach that Sale chose to adopt. In fact, it was so lacklustre that even in a two horse contest; the Sharks would’ve finished third.
It was a contest lacking pride, passion and a fighting spirit. The only Sale staff member wholly committed was Robbie Dickson. Had he not been restrained, he would’ve been on that pitch and at Leguizamon’s throat after he pinned Wiggy to the ground for a bit of afters. Maybe Robbie should dust off his kit for Petrarca.
A rare Irish mistake led to a surprise Sale forage into the Exile’s 22. Cueto couldn’t get to the inside pass from McAlister which was a shame as there was space to have nipped in for a try. Still it did result in a 5 metre line out with a Sale throw. I’m sure Briggsy will dream about what happened next for some time: the night-sweats will haunt many a waking hour. With the Irish line at Sale’s mercy, he overthrew and Mordt was able to run the ball to safety.
McAlister slotted away an easy penalty bringing Sale to within losing bonus point range and the supporters’ hearts lifted ever so slightly. In truth it would’ve been unfair had it stayed like that, because Sale didn’t deserve a thing. However, the Sharks don’t believe in taking the easy option. Irish set out their stall and it was obvious from the field-placings that they were determined to deny Sale the bonus point. It was heart in mouth time from then on, as Sale were guaranteed to give away a penalty. Unfortunately that’s what they specialise in. When discipline’s needed, they tend to misplace it.
Sure enough, at a ruck right in front of Sale’s posts, Schofield was pinged for falling on the ball whilst it was clearly still in the ruck. It may have been that Mr Davey penalised him for killing the ball. Such were his gestures by this stage, that it was almost impossible to decipher what he called it for. Forget dramatic signalling, this was positively Shakespearian. Anyway the upshot was Hickey converted the penalty and Sale once again shot themselves in the foot. The match had already been lost, but indiscipline cost Sale the points.
Even Chabal’s bullocking run at the end couldn’t lift the spirits. That ended in an embarrassing fumble and a pass into touch once again – shocking. The crowd groaned, the referee looked at his watch and I …. I just wanted to go home, but I knew I had the prospect of a four hour drive to get there. It was that bad, I just wanted to get away.
The match was in its final play when the opportunity was presented for McAlister to drop Sale into bonus point range again. It didn’t work of course, it rarely does. The similarities with the Bath game were spooky – last minute and the chance to salvage something you didn’t really deserve. The result was the same and in the end it’s fair to say that justice was done. The better team won: the team with the passion, flair and technique ruled the roost.
Next up is Petrarca in the Challenge Cup. It’s a pity Sale’s game isn’t against a team like Gloucester or Wasps. At least it would give them the chance to mix with the big boys again and hopefully begin to salvage some pride and spirit. You have to play what’s in front of you however, so Petrarca it is. Hopefully the memories of the victory in Padova have been blocked from memory. Sale won convincingly over there, but they also conceded unnecessary tries. Philippe Saint Andre accused his players this week of thinking they were better than they actually are. Let’s hope that message has sunk in. There’s no room for arrogance and complacency in rugby. If you go onto a park with that attitude one day the other team will whoop you and you’d deserve it. Let’s just pray it’s not Petrarca.
Frankly Mr Shankly
You can say what you like or shoot me down in flames, but I always believed Bill Shankly had a point when he claimed competitive sport could be more important than the mere issue of life and death. In the heat of the moment, winning can mean everything. Ok, so it might’ve been a glib, off-the-cuff remark, but it encapsulates the very essence of what it means to be a supporter. Obviously there are undoubtedly far more important things to dwell on in life: there are untold tragedies happening on a daily basis both domestically and globally. I accept that if you look at things objectively in the cold light of day, these are the events that should be of greater importance and significance. However when you’re a passionate supporter, sometimes logic can fly out of the window. Supporting your team becomes all-consuming and can dominate the very core of your existence: it can sometimes feel like nothing else is as important.
If you spend much of your hard-earned dosh and devote considerable time to following your Club around the far corners of this green and wet land, then in return all you ask is that your team shares your passion and commitment and gives its all for the common cause: the very least you would expect is that the team turn up in spirit as well as in person. After witnessing Sunday’s inglorious and spineless surrender at the Madejski Stadium, I’m no longer sure that truly is the case. If anyone would’ve ever said to me that I’d one day reach the stage where I’d feel like cutting out the middle man and just throwing my money down the nearest grid, then I’d have laughed in their face. Now, well I’m no longer quite so cock-sure. Perhaps I’ve been deluding myself all these years. Frankly Mr Shankly you might’ve been wrong - it is only a game after all, or at least it appears that way judging by the way some players seemed to approach it.
Any team, no matter how good, would miss the creative spark and influence that someone like Charlie Hodgson brings to the team. Last season alone is testament to that fact. To discover just before kick off that he would be absent with a knee injury was a blow. However, there is strength and depth at Sale and as they say, one man’s loss is another man’s opportunity. It was surprising then to see McAlister chosen in the three quarters. Personally I questioned whether he would’ve been better played at inside centre with Mayor outside him and Thomas inside at 10. The McAlister/Thomas combination has after all just started to bear fruit. Anyway, what do I know? Not a lot really, except that Hodgson plays flatter than any other fly half thereby creating space and time for others. If that’s not an available option, then playing McAlister at 12 I believe would be the alternative creative channel: his ability to run with the ball, his strength and his ability to step off either foot would open up space for others, like Thomas to exploit and make up for Charlie’s absence.
To say it began with not so much a bang as a whimper is being kind beyond the call of duty. Sale never seem to play for the first 20 minutes in any match. Whether this is a conscious ploy to try and grind the opposition down with physicality, or simply down to having too high an opinion of their own abilities, I know not. What I do know is that other teams always take advantage of this and Sale tend to spend half the match playing catch up.
The Sharks took the kick off clumsily, as has been customary all season and failed to clear their lines. The ball was taken into contact and the ruck took for ever to clear - another characteristic of this season’s play. A half break by McAlister failed to lead anywhere as Cueto’s pass was intercepted by Ojo. His devastating dart down by the flank and his clever offload to Paice should’ve resulted in the first try of the game. Only superb tackling back by McAlister prevented it as he clung on to Paice’s back and dragged him to ground. However, Sale’s drift defence was powerless to stop the influential Geraghty, playing in an unaccustomed role at 12, from spinning the ball out wide to Armitage. He drew his man, Mayor, and fed the ball to Tagicakibau. Ripol had no chance of stopping the marauding winger. Armitage converted from out wide and left Sale floundering 7 points adrift with only 2 minutes played. You sensed this was going to be a very long and painful afternoon.
Make no mistakes about it, Sale were not just poor, they were woeful. It’s the worst I’ve seen them play this season. The only thing that was half-decent was the scrum: then again when you have the beef of Sheridan, Bruno and Lewis-Roberts in the front row, you wouldn’t really expect anything else. Everything else was utterly dire. Basic skills were forgotten, the line out was a shambles and our backline adopted the unusual tactic of trying to trap the ball with their feet, rather than catching it. This isn’t football.
It felt like every ball was either knocked on or turned over. Sale couldn’t manage to string more than 2 phases of play together without gifting possession to the Exiles. At every breakdown Sale only committed one or two players to forage for the ball: London Irish responded with three or four, driving the Sale flankers back and always gaining possession. It was actually the first time in a long while that I’ve felt embarrassed by the team’s performance. It was like watching a scratch team. Any independent observer would be forgiven for thinking that the 15 players had never been on the same park together before. As one young Irish supporter in front of me kept shouting –“Sale Sharks, you’re rubbish. Who sponsors you then? Anchor butter?” Obviously that got a laugh, yet it was probably closer to the truth than you could possibly imagine.
Even when Armitage was sin-binned for tripping Cueto, Sale couldn’t make the numerical advantage pay. With such an error strewn display they could conceivably still have lost had the Exiles only had 10 men on the field. Irish are a decent team, but they’re not world beaters. They played good, flowing, heads up rugby and in Geraghty they’ve unearthed a gem. The problem is they were there for the taking. They were made to look better than they were and the reason for that is simple. Sale were inept, clueless and shambolic.
Our only plan this season it appears is to hoist continuous bombs into the opposing half and hope to gain some territorial advantage. I’ve said it so many times I’m beginning to bore myself, but it’s worth saying again because eventually the penny has to drop. Garryowens are only useful if you’re prepared to commit the numbers to chase the ball, or at least challenge and harry the receiver. There’s absolutely no point in kicking away possession and then lolloping up the field after it. You don’t regain possession, you end up out of position and you’re forced on to the back foot. If Sale had a Plan B then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad: the problem is, they often don’t even seem to have a Plan A.
McAlister tried his hardest, of that there’s no doubt. He was always prepared to run with the ball in hand. Unfortunately much of what he tried didn’t come off either due to basic handling errors or the rest of the backs not tuning into his wavelength. It was unfortunate because he, more than anyone else, put in the hard graft and was always looking for openings. He was rewarded for his efforts with a ninth minute penalty after Irish were penalised for not rolling away from the tackle. He could have reduced the gap further on 18 minutes, but his kick floated inches wide of the uprights.
Looked at dispassionately, penalties were probably the only hope that Sale had of winning the match. Their open play was very poor and there was no incisiveness or cutting edge. Even when a try beckoned Sale somehow managed to fluff it. Chabal received the ball 10 metres from the Irish line and straightened his run with one of characteristic bullish charges. He drew his man and just had to offload to his right and the try was a certainty. Even allowing for the fact that the overlapping man was tight head Eifion Roberts, the score looked nailed on. The final pass, however, was wayward: even an acrobat would’ve struggled to get his hands on that ball. Still, it was a slight improvement on passing the ball directly out to the 16th man, the crowd, as had happened a number of times earlier. I know Philippe has often commented on the value of the 16th man – but I didn’t realise he wanted us to play as well.
Just when it seemed things could get no worse, the inevitable happened. Sale once again messed up the lineout in their own 22 and Irish were awarded an attacking scrum. The scrum collapsed twice and the referee awarded Irish a penalty. A quick tap from Hodgson led to a sweeping Irish move across field, as the ball was shipped from Hickey to Geraghty. He stepped inside Mayor and fed a lovely angled pass to Tiesi, giving him a free run for the line. Armitage couldn’t convert but the damage was done. For a defence that had performed manfully during the course of the last 7 games, it was shocking to see just how easy it was for London Irish to carve their way through.
The final 6 minutes of the half lasted an eternity. If there was a game-plan it wasn’t immediately obvious. It wasn’t just the Sale supporters who were scratching their heads: many Exiles fans were actually shocked by the standard of rugby of a team tipped for a top four finish. Looking down at my notepad I realised I must have phased out for the last few minutes and drifted off to a better place, for as Mr Davey blew for the halftime respite, the only words I appeared to have written were dull, dire, dreary, dreadful, disastrous and dross. The prospect of another 40 minutes of that standard of fare was enough to make one want to run for the hills.
Were teacups thrown in the dressing room or boots kicked across the floor? Who knows? They certainly should’ve been. Whatever was said during the break didn’t work. Sale were on the back foot again right from the off. A dreadful pass from Laharrague to McAlister caught the backline flat– well when I say to, I mean behind and somewhere in the vicinity. Needless to say the ball was lost. A quick interchange between Geraghty and Hickey and before you could blink Armitage was in under the posts to rub further salt into the wound.
If the plan had been to batter Irish into submission, paving the way for our backline to run riot later on, then it failed spectacularly. Somebody forgot to tell Kennedy, Casey, Paice, Dermody and Lea’aetoa: if anything they seemed to get stronger during the second half and were even more fired up. Even Hodgson and Armitage were up for a fight with anyone – not the best of ideas when Sheridan’s around, but you’ve got to hand it to them, they were well and truly wired.
Any Sale attempt to run the ball, usually started by either McAlister or Laharrague barely lasted more than a couple of phases before stalling for a multitude of different reasons, all of them bad: a misplaced pass, a knock on, a forward pass or some other disaster. The only hope that Sale had was to try to keep things tight and nick the penalties as they were awarded as Irish were playing on the edge of legality all the time. Trying to play tight is difficult at the best of times, but when you’re having one of those days where nothing goes right, it’s well nigh impossible, and there’s always a looming possibility that you’ll fall for the sucker punch. Had the pass from Geraghty to Armitage not been adjudged to be marginally forward, Irish would’ve secured the bonus point.
McAlister reduced the deficit with a penalty on 46 minutes after the Exiles were penalised for crossing, and successfully kicked another 9 minutes later after Kennedy was penalised for offside. Apart from that Sale rarely threatened the Irish 22. There were, at least, 2 moments to lift the spirits – a half break from Laharrague that Ripol couldn’t get to, and surprisingly a move that almost produced 3 phase rugby but the final pass to Cueto was adjudged to be forward. It was of course, but sometimes you hope the touch judge is looking away and you keep your fingers crossed. It was indicative of the general laissez faire approach that Sale chose to adopt. In fact, it was so lacklustre that even in a two horse contest; the Sharks would’ve finished third.
It was a contest lacking pride, passion and a fighting spirit. The only Sale staff member wholly committed was Robbie Dickson. Had he not been restrained, he would’ve been on that pitch and at Leguizamon’s throat after he pinned Wiggy to the ground for a bit of afters. Maybe Robbie should dust off his kit for Petrarca.
A rare Irish mistake led to a surprise Sale forage into the Exile’s 22. Cueto couldn’t get to the inside pass from McAlister which was a shame as there was space to have nipped in for a try. Still it did result in a 5 metre line out with a Sale throw. I’m sure Briggsy will dream about what happened next for some time: the night-sweats will haunt many a waking hour. With the Irish line at Sale’s mercy, he overthrew and Mordt was able to run the ball to safety.
McAlister slotted away an easy penalty bringing Sale to within losing bonus point range and the supporters’ hearts lifted ever so slightly. In truth it would’ve been unfair had it stayed like that, because Sale didn’t deserve a thing. However, the Sharks don’t believe in taking the easy option. Irish set out their stall and it was obvious from the field-placings that they were determined to deny Sale the bonus point. It was heart in mouth time from then on, as Sale were guaranteed to give away a penalty. Unfortunately that’s what they specialise in. When discipline’s needed, they tend to misplace it.
Sure enough, at a ruck right in front of Sale’s posts, Schofield was pinged for falling on the ball whilst it was clearly still in the ruck. It may have been that Mr Davey penalised him for killing the ball. Such were his gestures by this stage, that it was almost impossible to decipher what he called it for. Forget dramatic signalling, this was positively Shakespearian. Anyway the upshot was Hickey converted the penalty and Sale once again shot themselves in the foot. The match had already been lost, but indiscipline cost Sale the points.
Even Chabal’s bullocking run at the end couldn’t lift the spirits. That ended in an embarrassing fumble and a pass into touch once again – shocking. The crowd groaned, the referee looked at his watch and I …. I just wanted to go home, but I knew I had the prospect of a four hour drive to get there. It was that bad, I just wanted to get away.
The match was in its final play when the opportunity was presented for McAlister to drop Sale into bonus point range again. It didn’t work of course, it rarely does. The similarities with the Bath game were spooky – last minute and the chance to salvage something you didn’t really deserve. The result was the same and in the end it’s fair to say that justice was done. The better team won: the team with the passion, flair and technique ruled the roost.
Next up is Petrarca in the Challenge Cup. It’s a pity Sale’s game isn’t against a team like Gloucester or Wasps. At least it would give them the chance to mix with the big boys again and hopefully begin to salvage some pride and spirit. You have to play what’s in front of you however, so Petrarca it is. Hopefully the memories of the victory in Padova have been blocked from memory. Sale won convincingly over there, but they also conceded unnecessary tries. Philippe Saint Andre accused his players this week of thinking they were better than they actually are. Let’s hope that message has sunk in. There’s no room for arrogance and complacency in rugby. If you go onto a park with that attitude one day the other team will whoop you and you’d deserve it. Let’s just pray it’s not Petrarca.
Dec 07 Leeds v Sale
Leeds Carnegie v Sale Sharks
Wages’ Day
The song title may well belong to Deacon Blue, but the phrase itself goes back to a dim and distant era and was a favourite of my first serious rugby coach. The ‘Big Yin’ wasn’t one for many words, but when he spoke you listened as his hunches and opinions were usually spot on. It’s fair to say that much of what he said was unintelligible to many of the lads – his thick, guttural Gorbals grunt made sure of that, yet if you could get past the Rab Nesbitt enunciation, his thoughts were always apposite and appropriate. Would that he’d been at Headingley?
“Yous spending all yer wages boys before yous earned them. Yous canae turn up and expect tae win, yous gota show these boys respect or yous’ll get a hiding. Yous got that wages’ day mentality, but you’ve no earned it yet, ken?”
For the first twenty minutes at Leeds and for the entire first half in the home Challenge Cup game against Bayonne, those words kept coming back to my mind. No-one has a God-given right to victory, not even a Munster man. Any team that shows such a degree of arrogance is on a very slippery slope and is more than likely to end up being humbled by opposition that, on paper at least, is inferior. No matter how good a team might be, victory can never be earned by simply turning up and thinking you’ve already won before a ball is kicked: a win has to be earned.
My old team mates eventually cottoned on to what he was trying to say, though one or two of the forwards were still asking who Ken was at the end of the season. The moral of the story nevertheless remains as valid today as it was all those years ago and should be heeded by every team, no matter what level they play at – play from the first whistle and don’t expect any favours from anyone, otherwise the Big Yin might come a calling.
Anyone sitting through the first quarter of the game would be excused for thinking that the league positions of the two teams had somehow been reversed. Sale struggled from the kick off and Leeds were the team that actually played with the passion, desire and belief befitting of a top four team. Eric Lund and Adam Balding played as if their lives depended on it – harrying and hustling and forcing Sale to drop some real clangers.
The pattern was set from the kick off when loose play by Sale resulted in an accidental obstruction. From the attacking 22 metre scrum Leeds squeezed every inch of available space and put the Sharks on the back foot for the next 10 minutes. Inspite of frantic, last-ditch Sale defending, you sensed that a Leeds score was on the cards. Brent Cockbain found himself out of position and offside in his desperate attempt to steal the ball at a ruck: it set the trend for the rest of the match, as he seemed to spend most of time offside and a yard off the pace. Hinton couldn’t convert the penalty, but Leeds were definitely still sniffing blood.
From the 22 drop out, Balding took the ball at speed and charged deep into Sale territory. McGee, the stout little tight head, peeled off the back of the ruck and plodded through under the Sale posts unchallenged. Even though there was more than a hint of obstruction involved in the try, a sneaky little block on Jason White, Ashley Rowden didn’t call it. You’ve got to play to the whistle even if you think the decision is wrong. Hinton converted to give Leeds a 7 point lead with only 9 minutes gone and to be fair, they fully deserved it. They looked like a team that meant business and shouldn’t on this evidence be fighting for survival down in the bargain basement.
Leeds kept up the pressure on the stretched Sale defence with Satala, Biggs, Vickerman and ex-Jet Joe Bedford taking every opportunity to run the ball back at pace. Magnus Lund appeared to be the only Sale player who was fired up: obviously playing against your brother does add an edge to your game. He put himself about from the start and looks to be getting back to his very best. It seemed unfair then to penalise him for not rolling away from the tackle when Balding, Dunbar and his own brother sat on top of him, but Mr Rowden didn’t see it that way. In fact, the referee didn’t appear to be seeing very much at all; various infringements that would’ve been picked up by a Spreadbury or a Pearson went unpunished on both sides. Hinton didn’t really care – he just took the gift, converting the penalty and taking the score to 10 nil with barely 13 minutes played.
Of the people on the field, the only one who could’ve been happy with the next ten minutes or so was our friend Ashley. He used his whistle more than any shepherd might do in a day’s work out on the hills with his dogs. Mind you, he had to – the standard and execution of play was particularly poor from both teams; dropped balls, knock-ons, collapsing scrums and more turn-over ball than you could shake a stick at.
Of greater concern though was the Sharks lineout. We struggled to win our own ball through a combination of poor throwing and muddled options and appeared to take an age to get the ball back into play as the players twirled around like line dancers. If there’s a problem the easiest way to put it right is to keep things simple and go for the percentage ball.
At Leeds’ line outs the problems were even worse. Every ball as far as anyone could see had only one target and that was Eric Lund: being about 8 feet tall I suppose he was the obvious choice. Sale always chose the wrong option though and opted to compete with either Hooper or Oakley, which was wasteful in the extreme. Sale never looked likely to steal one of their balls.
The penny finally dropped on 25 minutes when Sale were aggrieved by another mistake by the referee, though in fairness he wasn’t aided by his touch judge who was stood right by the incident. Cueto took the ball in the Sale 22 after neat interplay between Laharrague and Mayor and carried before hoisting up the Garryowen. The ball clearly touched Biggs’ hand before crossing the line. Nevertheless the line out went to Leeds amid Sale’s protestations. There’s none more dangerous than a team that’s scorned. The slight clearly fired up Sale and they started to play more of the kind of rugby you would expect from then on.
Hodgson opened Sale’s account by kicking a penalty on 26 minutes after Leeds had been penalised for not rolling away at a ruck. He converted yet another penalty 8 minutes later after Leeds were pinged for offside by the referee. It could, however, have been better than that: 3 points is better than none but had Cueto spotted the 3 on 1 overlap sooner, following some mesmerising and flowing cross field passing, Sale were a shoe-in for a definite 7 pointer.
The final error-strewn 7 minutes were ones to forget, even for the purists as both teams conspired to make the simple look complicated. Neither team looked capable of keeping the ball for more than 2 phases of play before knocking on or falling over. Neither set of fans was particularly approving either. Sale relapsed into that pre-set pattern of not committing enough men to the ruck and either conceding a turnover or producing incredibly slow ball at the breakdown. Hodgson could at one particular stage have sat down and had a brew whilst he was waiting for the ball to come out to him.
Just when every Sale fan was giving up hope and wondering what to get to drink during the interval, a moment of magic arrived at last. Jones picked up a loose ball from a Leeds ruck just outside their 22 and fed the ball to Cueto. He feigned outside but stepped off his right leg, taking out Vickerman. The ball was passed to Laharrague and finally shipped out to Thomas who skipped over in the corner. It might’ve been an acute angle but Hodgson was obviously wearing his lucky boots: the ball went straight between the uprights taking the half-time score to Leeds 10, Sale 13. Frankly had Leeds had the guile and skill in their three-quarter line they could probably have had at least 2 more tries, but there you go.
The second half began much as the first, with Leeds taking the game to Sale and refusing to believe that a victory was beyond them. In all fairness that was the prediction before the game kicked off: yet predictions are notoriously dodgy. Leeds set up camp in the Sale 22 after another less than convincing Sale restart. When Jones was penalised for not rolling away, Leeds signalled their intent and kicked for the corner rather than the posts. They obviously believed the game was there for the winning.
It’s easy to say in hindsight that it was the wrong choice. You either have to go with your instincts or be guided by your captain, but, the one thing Sale have managed to do extremely well this season is defend their own 5 metre line. Yes they’ve conceded more tries than they would’ve liked, but rarely from pick and go rugby: Sale’s forwards are too strong. Leeds put in an awful lot of effort but for no reward. Had they chose to switch the ball out wide, they may have given themselves other options but they backed their own forwards. Mayor stole the ball at the breakdown and tried to run it from deep, which was a mistake as he was scragged by Eric Lund, but Lee Thomas saved the day by regaining possession and belting the ball out on halfway.
Chances did come Sale’s way but with the way the luck was running it could still have been anyone’s game. Hodgson missed a penalty just inside the Leeds half after Leeds were penalised for not rolling away. Lawson successfully charged down the 22 drop out but held on to the ball in contact and ceded possession. A Hodgson attempted drop goal looked more like one of my attempts as the wind caught it in mid-flight. Even wonder-boy Lee Thomas couldn’t get it quite right when deputising for the injured Hodgson. His attempted penalty from out wide hit the uprights and bounced out hinting to many Sale supporters there that maybe this just wasn’t their day.
However, the Welsh wizard soon put matters to rights with a piece of juggling worthy of the Moscow State Circus. Cueto once more attempted the Garryowen and was able to turn over the Leeds ball, Hodgson took Wiggy’s pass and fed an outside ball to Ripol. He stepped inside and threw a lovely ball out to Thomas approaching at speed on the wing and he somehow managed to tip the ball up in the air with his fingertips, flip it again with his other hand and then gather the ball and plant it in the corner. If that was masterful, his conversion was even better.
Leeds are a tenacious lot though. No sooner had Thomas put daylight in between the teams than Biggs steps up to reel them back in. Fair play to the lad, he’s quick and powerful and can be a tricky little so and so, but 3 Sale defenders should’ve snuffed out that chance straight away. Having said all that, his step back onto his inside leg was masterful. Hinton once again couldn’t convert but the scores were once again too close for comfort.
Having done the Sale back 3 for pace moments before the odds on him not intercepting Hodgson’s cross kick were slim to say the least. He had a five metre start on Chris Mayor and looked favourite to get to the ball first. Mayor was having none of it though. He read Hodgson’s intention and chased after it like a whippet, showing a real poachers’ instinct by throwing himself at the ball from the 5 metre line. Somehow he managed to steal the ball from the arms of Tom Biggs and ground the ball in the corner. It was a fantastic try and was converted once again by Thomas. You sensed that now Sale really did believe the bonus point was there for the taking.
It might not have arrived until the last 5 minutes, but ask any Sale Sharks’ fan and they’ll tell you the trip across the Pennines was worth it. With time running out quickly, Martens managed to dig the ball out at a Leeds ruck and give a quick pass to Hodgson. The fly half’s speed of thought and peripheral vision is such that he can see opportunities where few others can: what’s more, he has the skills and the gumption to go with these instincts. The easy ball would’ve been to either Thomas or Mayor who were both approaching at speed on his left. The Leeds defence were drifting across to cover this eventuality. Hodgson though, looked at the bigger picture and sent out an inch-perfect, double-miss pass to the marauding Ripol who merely had to straighten his run and amble unchallenged under the posts and plant the ball in the same spot where McGee had started proceedings an hour before. There was a sort of karma-like quality to it. Laharrague, not wishing to be outdone, got his name on the score sheet with a deft little conversion, giving Sale an unassailable 19 point lead.
It’s perhaps just as well the lead was substantial, because that man Biggs wasn’t done. Anything Thomas could do, he could match. Another almost carbon-copy like move of chip and chase saw him once again emerge victorious from under a pile of white shirts. How he managed to do it is difficult to fathom as Sale had 3 defenders back covering that eventuality. Anyway, he did and he deserved his score as one of the better Leeds performers on the day.
Now it’s off to London Irish. Not the easiest of places to go at any time. They’re hard to beat on their own turf and have formidable strength in the set piece, particularly their line out with the throwing of David Paice and the jumping skills of Kennedy and Casey. Line outs are not a Sale speciality at the moment, so care will definitely be needed. On the basis of recent results it would appear that Sale should expect to win having won 8 of their last 9 matches in all competitions. Irish by contrast have lost 5 of the last 6 encounters with the Sharks. Does that tell you anything? Well, frankly no, except no-one believes statistics except statisticians, unless it suits them. I prefer to base my predictions on something much more quantifiable. The games that are on paper meant to be formalities like the Montpellier and Worcester clashes are always anything but. I’ll let the number crunchers use their calculators and I’ll stick with my hunches. Like Homer said – Simpson, not the Greek fella – statistics lie: 9 out of 10 people know that!
Wages’ Day
The song title may well belong to Deacon Blue, but the phrase itself goes back to a dim and distant era and was a favourite of my first serious rugby coach. The ‘Big Yin’ wasn’t one for many words, but when he spoke you listened as his hunches and opinions were usually spot on. It’s fair to say that much of what he said was unintelligible to many of the lads – his thick, guttural Gorbals grunt made sure of that, yet if you could get past the Rab Nesbitt enunciation, his thoughts were always apposite and appropriate. Would that he’d been at Headingley?
“Yous spending all yer wages boys before yous earned them. Yous canae turn up and expect tae win, yous gota show these boys respect or yous’ll get a hiding. Yous got that wages’ day mentality, but you’ve no earned it yet, ken?”
For the first twenty minutes at Leeds and for the entire first half in the home Challenge Cup game against Bayonne, those words kept coming back to my mind. No-one has a God-given right to victory, not even a Munster man. Any team that shows such a degree of arrogance is on a very slippery slope and is more than likely to end up being humbled by opposition that, on paper at least, is inferior. No matter how good a team might be, victory can never be earned by simply turning up and thinking you’ve already won before a ball is kicked: a win has to be earned.
My old team mates eventually cottoned on to what he was trying to say, though one or two of the forwards were still asking who Ken was at the end of the season. The moral of the story nevertheless remains as valid today as it was all those years ago and should be heeded by every team, no matter what level they play at – play from the first whistle and don’t expect any favours from anyone, otherwise the Big Yin might come a calling.
Anyone sitting through the first quarter of the game would be excused for thinking that the league positions of the two teams had somehow been reversed. Sale struggled from the kick off and Leeds were the team that actually played with the passion, desire and belief befitting of a top four team. Eric Lund and Adam Balding played as if their lives depended on it – harrying and hustling and forcing Sale to drop some real clangers.
The pattern was set from the kick off when loose play by Sale resulted in an accidental obstruction. From the attacking 22 metre scrum Leeds squeezed every inch of available space and put the Sharks on the back foot for the next 10 minutes. Inspite of frantic, last-ditch Sale defending, you sensed that a Leeds score was on the cards. Brent Cockbain found himself out of position and offside in his desperate attempt to steal the ball at a ruck: it set the trend for the rest of the match, as he seemed to spend most of time offside and a yard off the pace. Hinton couldn’t convert the penalty, but Leeds were definitely still sniffing blood.
From the 22 drop out, Balding took the ball at speed and charged deep into Sale territory. McGee, the stout little tight head, peeled off the back of the ruck and plodded through under the Sale posts unchallenged. Even though there was more than a hint of obstruction involved in the try, a sneaky little block on Jason White, Ashley Rowden didn’t call it. You’ve got to play to the whistle even if you think the decision is wrong. Hinton converted to give Leeds a 7 point lead with only 9 minutes gone and to be fair, they fully deserved it. They looked like a team that meant business and shouldn’t on this evidence be fighting for survival down in the bargain basement.
Leeds kept up the pressure on the stretched Sale defence with Satala, Biggs, Vickerman and ex-Jet Joe Bedford taking every opportunity to run the ball back at pace. Magnus Lund appeared to be the only Sale player who was fired up: obviously playing against your brother does add an edge to your game. He put himself about from the start and looks to be getting back to his very best. It seemed unfair then to penalise him for not rolling away from the tackle when Balding, Dunbar and his own brother sat on top of him, but Mr Rowden didn’t see it that way. In fact, the referee didn’t appear to be seeing very much at all; various infringements that would’ve been picked up by a Spreadbury or a Pearson went unpunished on both sides. Hinton didn’t really care – he just took the gift, converting the penalty and taking the score to 10 nil with barely 13 minutes played.
Of the people on the field, the only one who could’ve been happy with the next ten minutes or so was our friend Ashley. He used his whistle more than any shepherd might do in a day’s work out on the hills with his dogs. Mind you, he had to – the standard and execution of play was particularly poor from both teams; dropped balls, knock-ons, collapsing scrums and more turn-over ball than you could shake a stick at.
Of greater concern though was the Sharks lineout. We struggled to win our own ball through a combination of poor throwing and muddled options and appeared to take an age to get the ball back into play as the players twirled around like line dancers. If there’s a problem the easiest way to put it right is to keep things simple and go for the percentage ball.
At Leeds’ line outs the problems were even worse. Every ball as far as anyone could see had only one target and that was Eric Lund: being about 8 feet tall I suppose he was the obvious choice. Sale always chose the wrong option though and opted to compete with either Hooper or Oakley, which was wasteful in the extreme. Sale never looked likely to steal one of their balls.
The penny finally dropped on 25 minutes when Sale were aggrieved by another mistake by the referee, though in fairness he wasn’t aided by his touch judge who was stood right by the incident. Cueto took the ball in the Sale 22 after neat interplay between Laharrague and Mayor and carried before hoisting up the Garryowen. The ball clearly touched Biggs’ hand before crossing the line. Nevertheless the line out went to Leeds amid Sale’s protestations. There’s none more dangerous than a team that’s scorned. The slight clearly fired up Sale and they started to play more of the kind of rugby you would expect from then on.
Hodgson opened Sale’s account by kicking a penalty on 26 minutes after Leeds had been penalised for not rolling away at a ruck. He converted yet another penalty 8 minutes later after Leeds were pinged for offside by the referee. It could, however, have been better than that: 3 points is better than none but had Cueto spotted the 3 on 1 overlap sooner, following some mesmerising and flowing cross field passing, Sale were a shoe-in for a definite 7 pointer.
The final error-strewn 7 minutes were ones to forget, even for the purists as both teams conspired to make the simple look complicated. Neither team looked capable of keeping the ball for more than 2 phases of play before knocking on or falling over. Neither set of fans was particularly approving either. Sale relapsed into that pre-set pattern of not committing enough men to the ruck and either conceding a turnover or producing incredibly slow ball at the breakdown. Hodgson could at one particular stage have sat down and had a brew whilst he was waiting for the ball to come out to him.
Just when every Sale fan was giving up hope and wondering what to get to drink during the interval, a moment of magic arrived at last. Jones picked up a loose ball from a Leeds ruck just outside their 22 and fed the ball to Cueto. He feigned outside but stepped off his right leg, taking out Vickerman. The ball was passed to Laharrague and finally shipped out to Thomas who skipped over in the corner. It might’ve been an acute angle but Hodgson was obviously wearing his lucky boots: the ball went straight between the uprights taking the half-time score to Leeds 10, Sale 13. Frankly had Leeds had the guile and skill in their three-quarter line they could probably have had at least 2 more tries, but there you go.
The second half began much as the first, with Leeds taking the game to Sale and refusing to believe that a victory was beyond them. In all fairness that was the prediction before the game kicked off: yet predictions are notoriously dodgy. Leeds set up camp in the Sale 22 after another less than convincing Sale restart. When Jones was penalised for not rolling away, Leeds signalled their intent and kicked for the corner rather than the posts. They obviously believed the game was there for the winning.
It’s easy to say in hindsight that it was the wrong choice. You either have to go with your instincts or be guided by your captain, but, the one thing Sale have managed to do extremely well this season is defend their own 5 metre line. Yes they’ve conceded more tries than they would’ve liked, but rarely from pick and go rugby: Sale’s forwards are too strong. Leeds put in an awful lot of effort but for no reward. Had they chose to switch the ball out wide, they may have given themselves other options but they backed their own forwards. Mayor stole the ball at the breakdown and tried to run it from deep, which was a mistake as he was scragged by Eric Lund, but Lee Thomas saved the day by regaining possession and belting the ball out on halfway.
Chances did come Sale’s way but with the way the luck was running it could still have been anyone’s game. Hodgson missed a penalty just inside the Leeds half after Leeds were penalised for not rolling away. Lawson successfully charged down the 22 drop out but held on to the ball in contact and ceded possession. A Hodgson attempted drop goal looked more like one of my attempts as the wind caught it in mid-flight. Even wonder-boy Lee Thomas couldn’t get it quite right when deputising for the injured Hodgson. His attempted penalty from out wide hit the uprights and bounced out hinting to many Sale supporters there that maybe this just wasn’t their day.
However, the Welsh wizard soon put matters to rights with a piece of juggling worthy of the Moscow State Circus. Cueto once more attempted the Garryowen and was able to turn over the Leeds ball, Hodgson took Wiggy’s pass and fed an outside ball to Ripol. He stepped inside and threw a lovely ball out to Thomas approaching at speed on the wing and he somehow managed to tip the ball up in the air with his fingertips, flip it again with his other hand and then gather the ball and plant it in the corner. If that was masterful, his conversion was even better.
Leeds are a tenacious lot though. No sooner had Thomas put daylight in between the teams than Biggs steps up to reel them back in. Fair play to the lad, he’s quick and powerful and can be a tricky little so and so, but 3 Sale defenders should’ve snuffed out that chance straight away. Having said all that, his step back onto his inside leg was masterful. Hinton once again couldn’t convert but the scores were once again too close for comfort.
Having done the Sale back 3 for pace moments before the odds on him not intercepting Hodgson’s cross kick were slim to say the least. He had a five metre start on Chris Mayor and looked favourite to get to the ball first. Mayor was having none of it though. He read Hodgson’s intention and chased after it like a whippet, showing a real poachers’ instinct by throwing himself at the ball from the 5 metre line. Somehow he managed to steal the ball from the arms of Tom Biggs and ground the ball in the corner. It was a fantastic try and was converted once again by Thomas. You sensed that now Sale really did believe the bonus point was there for the taking.
It might not have arrived until the last 5 minutes, but ask any Sale Sharks’ fan and they’ll tell you the trip across the Pennines was worth it. With time running out quickly, Martens managed to dig the ball out at a Leeds ruck and give a quick pass to Hodgson. The fly half’s speed of thought and peripheral vision is such that he can see opportunities where few others can: what’s more, he has the skills and the gumption to go with these instincts. The easy ball would’ve been to either Thomas or Mayor who were both approaching at speed on his left. The Leeds defence were drifting across to cover this eventuality. Hodgson though, looked at the bigger picture and sent out an inch-perfect, double-miss pass to the marauding Ripol who merely had to straighten his run and amble unchallenged under the posts and plant the ball in the same spot where McGee had started proceedings an hour before. There was a sort of karma-like quality to it. Laharrague, not wishing to be outdone, got his name on the score sheet with a deft little conversion, giving Sale an unassailable 19 point lead.
It’s perhaps just as well the lead was substantial, because that man Biggs wasn’t done. Anything Thomas could do, he could match. Another almost carbon-copy like move of chip and chase saw him once again emerge victorious from under a pile of white shirts. How he managed to do it is difficult to fathom as Sale had 3 defenders back covering that eventuality. Anyway, he did and he deserved his score as one of the better Leeds performers on the day.
Now it’s off to London Irish. Not the easiest of places to go at any time. They’re hard to beat on their own turf and have formidable strength in the set piece, particularly their line out with the throwing of David Paice and the jumping skills of Kennedy and Casey. Line outs are not a Sale speciality at the moment, so care will definitely be needed. On the basis of recent results it would appear that Sale should expect to win having won 8 of their last 9 matches in all competitions. Irish by contrast have lost 5 of the last 6 encounters with the Sharks. Does that tell you anything? Well, frankly no, except no-one believes statistics except statisticians, unless it suits them. I prefer to base my predictions on something much more quantifiable. The games that are on paper meant to be formalities like the Montpellier and Worcester clashes are always anything but. I’ll let the number crunchers use their calculators and I’ll stick with my hunches. Like Homer said – Simpson, not the Greek fella – statistics lie: 9 out of 10 people know that!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
