Dec 06 Stade Francais v Sale

Gritty in Pink

Standing in the Parc des Princes a few minutes before kick off, I have to confess I had a few butterflies in my stomach. Like many others, I’d traveled to Paris more in hope than expectation. Logically, I couldn’t really see how a team ravaged by injury could possibly beat the mighty Stade Francais - a team packed full of international class and pedigree. Still, sometimes logic goes out the window. Why, I’m not sure. Maybe it was the drink or perhaps it was just the atmosphere that made me giddy and therefore hopeful. The prospect of mingling with forty thousand Lilly-shirted Parisians, waving large pink flags and dancing along to the sound of “Come on Eileen”, might well be the stuff of some people’s nightmares. If you’d asked me beforehand, I’d probably have counted myself among them. Well, they couldn’t be more wrong. It’s true to say that, yes, whilst the whole experience was slightly surreal, it was nonetheless uplifting and inspiring. As the Can Can dancers left the field and the teams emerged, I rediscovered my sense of belief. The look on the face of our talisman, Sebastien Chabal said it all for me. Yes, it was going to be an uphill struggle but, I honestly felt the Sharks could pull off a famous, if unexpected victory.

By the time the whistle had blown for the half-time interval, my sense of optimism, which is normally eternal, had been well and truly dampened. We were outclassed in virtually every department. Our scrum stood up well and delivered a good platform for our backs, but we lacked the skill and invention to capitalise on this. Our drift defence just couldn’t cope with Stade’s pace, movement and running lines. Even when we had good ball, our kicking game was aimless and we rarely found touch. Stade returned those kicks with purpose and punished us, pinning us back in our own twenty two on every occasion. We were second best and had David Skrela worn his kicking boots, they could’ve been out of sight by the interval. It would be unfair to focus purely on the negatives and shortcomings in Sale‘s game-plan though; it has to be said that during the first period Stade were simply magnificent - producing incisive, clinical and scintillating rugby of the highest order. Few teams could’ve lived with them, even, dare I say, our full strength side.

Whatever was said at half time paid dividends, as a different team emerged from the dressing room. Sale played with aggression and fire and a real sense of purpose - something which should give encouragement to all. No one summed up this attitude better than Seabass. He’s had his critics over the last few weeks, but when Seabass is truly motivated he plays like a man possessed. He was simply superb, driving the team on and constantly putting his body on the line. Maybe his enthusiasm and desire can sometimes be taken too far as the reversed penalty proved, but it goes to show just how much winning means to him. Magnus Lund, Chris Jones and Eiffion Lewis Roberts also put in towering performances. Sale really pushed Stade all the way. At one stage I did believe that we were going to win. Yes, it was cruel to have the losing bonus point snatched away at the bitter end, but at least we went for it, showing a desire and belief that has been missing of late. In the end it was probably the right result with Stade just shading it on balance.

Is this the end of our Heineken Cup road? Probably, but I think Stade Francais will approach next week’s match with a sense of unease and fear and a great deal of respect for the opposition. Not only do they have to face our team again, but also our supporters. There might only have been around eight hundred or so of us in Paris, but boy, did we make ourselves heard. Just imagine what a noise ten thousand can make. Sale Sharks performed magnificently where other teams may have crumbled and it’s up to us to match that effort. Let’s hope the supporters greet them with the respect they deserve and give the team a loud and noisy reception. We may well be down but we’ll always come out fighting