Dec 06 Bath v Sale

Mud, sweat and tears

The Christmas season had started well, and we were buoyed by a terrific defensive win over Stade Francais. I think we all hoped this would spur us on and build confidence. If you can beat one of the best teams in Europe, then you know you still have what it takes.

At Bath, in appalling foggy and freezing conditions, our defence was simply superb once again, but our open play lacked direction and belief. We seemed afraid to run the ball, as if doubting our own abilities. Time after time we opted for silly drop goal attempts after only one or two phases of play. If that was the game-plan, then it wasted the undoubted attacking abilities we had on both wings. We should have won the game comfortably. Why we seem afraid to kill off this type of game is beyond me and many others who trek up and down the country following the team.

At Kingston Park, our bogey ground, we played with a swagger and a degree of flair that has been missing for most of the season, running in four tries. Sadly our defence, which had been playing supremely well, also went missing for the game, and we allowed the Falcons to score four tries. We should have won this game too, but our kicking game let us down yet again, wasting countless points with missed penalties and conversions. On the long journey back everyone agreed that if we could only play with belief and confidence, we had the ability to beat anybody. The problem seemed to be that Sale had become an either/or team – either great defence with no attack, or sizzling back play and no grunt up front. If only we could find the key to playing with both. Maybe the New Year would bring a change of fortune, a kick start to our season and the first step on the long journey back to the top of domestic rugby.

We should have known better. On New Year’s Day the weather was atrocious and the pitch, well, was probably good for the complexion but not suited to fast, flowing rugby. It was never going to be anything other than a grunt-fest. Bristol were riding high at the top end of the Premiership, yet never seem to produce a great deal when you see them play. They have a reputation as spoilers, who break up the play when ever possible and disrupt the opposition. In Mark Regan they have a player who can outtalk and out-do Lawrence Dalliglio. He spent most of the match either receiving treatment or whispering sweet nothings in the referee’s ear. Territorially we dominated but could never string enough phases together. In truth we never looked like scoring a try until we reached injury time. Once again we opted for the drop goal option, gifting possession back to the opposition needlessly. We lacked invention and creativity and for the majority of the game looked to have no sense of direction. Fortunately Maggie and Corcho were superb – strong and fearless in the tackle and always first to the break down. Bruno, our own pocket rocket, was also excellent and unlucky, I feel, to have been sin-binned after his slightly over-enthusiastic tussle with Matt Salter, the latter being guilty of constant infringements all over the park which the referee and touch judges strangely failed to notice. It all came down to an opportunistic try by Dan Ward-Smith off the back of an uncontested scrum, with a little help from Mr Salter.

If seasons and campaigns can be determined by one solitary moment, then the futile kick into the corner by Larry, our stand-in stand-off, in the final seconds of injury time was probably it. After 87 minutes of high intensity, muscular and physical effort, in which we had the lion’s share of the play and possession, it all boiled down to the last play of the game. Our forwards had launched wave of wave of attacks against a struggling Bristol side, at that that time down to fourteen men and conceding penalty after penalty. All we had to do was keep the ball alive and we would have either scored or been awarded a penalty try. When the ball spun out of the ruck, it appeared no-one expected what came next, certainly not the other 14 Sale players on the pitch. Larry kicked to the corner, no-one could get anywhere near it and David Lemi calmly watched the ball go dead. It was a woeful call by our fly half and really just about summed up our season – great effort, power and grunt, but backed up with little finesse, consistency and belief. Unless we can rediscover the spark and play consistently, then I’m afraid the season is over, and even the EDF Cup may be beyond a squad stretched to breaking point.