Jan 07 Sale v Gloucester

Smells like team spirit!

It had to come, we all knew it, but I suppose none of us expected it to take so long. Still, a win’s the important thing. That it should come against Gloucester was the surprise for me. Bryan Redpath and Dennis Betts have done a fine job in bringing through the young lads and revitalising a perennially under-achieving squad. Dean Ryan must be delighted he took them on. Personally I’d much rather we’d kept Brush at Sale in a coaching capacity, but sadly this didn’t appear to be an option.

Opinion on the game was split for a change! Everyone was obviously thrilled with the win, but many thought we were lucky. I couldn’t disagree more. Gloucester bossed the first 40 minutes without a doubt and had chances to kill off the game. Had Richards played with his head up, then they would have scored the clincher towards the end. Balshaw, unsurprisingly, didn’t appear to be on the best of terms with his scrum half at the final whistle. Anyway, in rugby as in life, you make your own luck. Had there been a God smiling on us lately, we would’ve won our last three games.

On Saturday that said God obviously had a change of heart, though someone should have a word with Him/Her about the pitch. The patchy sand and mud surface was shocking and not conducive to a running game; from above it looked more like a Battenberg cake. Sadly the aroma wasn’t as fragrant. There was an odour and foul smell all afternoon that reminded me vaguely of my Grandmother’s gravy, and believe me, that wasn’t healthy for anyone. Still, you just have to get on with it, and that’s precisely what we did. In the second half I thought we were magnificent. When Lilo came off the bench and Wiggy was switched to stand-off, we played with a passion and desire that’s been missing for a great part of our season. I thought the two combined brilliantly together. The forwards moved up a gear, the half-back pairing clicked, at last, and our backs got moving. It was heartwarming stuff, though still a little too close to comfort. For once we seemed to play as a unit.

It seems unfair to single any one player out as supreme, because all were magnificent, showing heart, resilience and determination. Corcho though, for me was outstanding and probably just about pipped Wiggy at the post. Whatever it cost to bring him from Argentina, it was a bargain. He prefers to play at 8 yet puts in towering performances whenever he plays at blindside or openside. He’s undoubtedly our newcomer of the season and, if he continues to play like this, he’ll be in contention for the player’s player of the year award.

I should also just give a mention to another member of the squad who quietly gets on with his job and rarely takes any plaudits. Barry Stewart started his one hundredth Premiership game on Saturday, though from the lack of announcement you would never have known. Bear is a quiet and gentle man who never takes a backwards step and consistently puts in performance after performance. Congratulations Sir, I salute you.

Well, it’s time to find the passport again and dust off the old rucksack. It’s Heineken Cup time again. On Thursday I’m off to Northern Italy. Everything has been planned as meticulously as ever, but no doubt SleazyJet will do something or other to wreck the party. It’s what you come to expect and accept - in fact, European trips wouldn’t be the same if our plans weren’t disrupted. We moan and complain, but I wonder if deep down we secretly want things to go pear-shaped every now and then. It’s a form of travelling self-flagellation with which you can bore the pants off each other later with tales of where you there when, and such like. Ask anyone stuck at Stansted last year before the Biarritz match and they’ll give you chapter and verse on how awful it was but how much they enjoyed it. Perverse, I appreciate, but you weren’t there when…..

I’ve not managed to find Calvisano on a map yet, but, no worries, I’ll just follow all the people with blue wigs, baggy eyes and haunted expressions and I’ll be sure to get there. Will I get back to write this column next week? Now, there’s the question. Hopefully the answer is yes but, for anyone travelling through Milan next week take pity. If you see a lost and bewildered fellow dressed as a shark, just pat him on the head and point him in the direction of England. He might well be late returning, but will eventually show up like the proverbial bad penny. Ciao!