Mar 07 Saracens v Sale

Rainy days and Sundays!

Sitting high up in the rafters of Vicarage Road yesterday, with a view of the game that was only marginally better than that enjoyed by the press, I was struck by two thoughts: Edgeley Park is definitely not the worst ground in the Premiership, and that I’d been here before. No, I don’t mean Vicarage Road, either. I’m sure everyone’s had that same experience, that sense of déjà vu. I’d definitely seen this before. Strangely though, my previous experience wasn’t at a rugby match, so I might as well confess now.

Many years ago, I actually paid to watch Joe Bugner fight. Now, I appreciate that the words ‘Bugner’ and ‘fight’ are contradictory and should rarely be uttered in the same sentence, but hey, I was young and foolish then. Everybody does something they live to regret: it’s part of growing up I suppose. As you could imagine, it was an all-action bout, involving lots of sweat, the occasional grunt and many, many clinches. I can’t remember a punch being thrown in anger though.

It was a turgid affair and a complete and utter waste of money. The only saving grace was the banter of the other unfortunates who witnessed the so-called event. One chap at the side of the hall bellowed, ‘turn the lights off - I want to go to sleep’, but he was shouted down by another guy at the back who retorted, ‘No, leave them on, I’m trying to read!’ It all came flooding back to me yesterday.

It was billed as a match-up of two heavy weights, and that’s what we got, but unlike the boxing, at least we did get to see a few punches thrown. The conditions were atrocious and the pitch every bit as bad as Edgeley Park’s. With the rain lashing down and the wind gusting furiously, it was never going to be a classic game for the purists. Both Sale and Sarries set their stalls out immediately: it was going to be a game dominated by the tight five, a good old-fashioned slugfest with the result ultimately determined by power, aggression, set-piece dominance and penalties.

Watching from the roof and craning my neck to look around the giant pillar in front of me that held up the stand, it seemed that the match was only ever going to be decided either by mistakes or by whose nerve cracked first. Could we make advances into their twenty two with tactical kicking and then nail our penalties?

Or would Sarries beat us at our own game and run the ball back, relying on the trusty boot of Glen Jackson to steal the points? Well, suffice it to say, we missed four of our penalties, tried to run the ball out of our 22 and conceded a try and kicked the ball dead when going for the corner and the bonus point in the dying moments. They managed to hold their nerve much better than we did and Jackson kicked all five of his penalties.

Much will be made of that over-used word ‘indiscipline’. In fact it’s the one word that the radio commentator behind me used repeatedly, again and again, like a broken record. ‘Sale’s indiscipline is costing them dearly…Sale’s indiscipline will see them lose a man to the bin soon…’

Yes there was ‘indiscipline’, if that is what you would choose to call it, but personally, I’d rather say it as I saw it, which was reacting to provocation. Whilst that might not help the team cause, it is never the less understandable.

Deano did wrestle Kris Chesney to the floor, but only after being lamped by a left hook, and Andy Sheridan did let Cobus Visagie have one, but only after he had stamped on a Sale player at the breakdown.

Neither example is to be admired, but in context it was understandable. It’s just a pity, once again, that the officials don’t appear to have the strength of will or authority to ‘stamp’ it out. You play within the law and push the boundaries as far as you can without getting penalised, like London Irish did last week. But, if you push beyond those boundaries and you still don’t get penalised, what then? Does it become a free for all? If so, can I have Big Ted on my side?

I think we all have to admit that things have gone badly for us this season. Yet, I believe it’s too easy just to blame it on injuries, especially those to crucial players. With the exception of the pre-season game in Biarritz, we haven’t played well, even when Charlie was fit. Something is wrong and something is missing, though I don’t know what it is. What I do know is that adversity brings out the best in some and the injuries and loss of form has meant that we’ve been blooding some of the younger lads, who’ve all stepped up to be counted.

Sean Cox, once again, proved he has a wise head on young shoulders and has the big game temperament. He managed to stay calm and focused when others around him didn’t, though I did see him having ‘words’ with Simon Raiwalui.

David Tait came in at short notice to make his first Premiership start in place of the talismanic Corcho, and what a fine game he had, too. It’s difficult to believe that he hasn’t been playing at this level for years.

The same could be said of Ben Foden who, as ever, gave his all both at scrum half and on the wing: he’s a fine player with a good rugby brain, who, if handled correctly, could go onto achieve great things.

Anyway, we trudged away from the ground, wet, cold and miserable having lost our eighth game out of nine. The journey back was as awful as it always seems to be when you lose, particularly when the weather was so bad. The world and his wife seemed to want to leave Watford at the same time as us. I can’t for the life of me think why. They were obviously as baffled by the one way system, which pens you in and won’t let you out, as we were. Yet, just when you think everything in the world is wrong and that fate bares a vindictive grudge against you, something happens that forces you to re-evaluate your views and pulls you up by the bootstraps.

We pulled into a service station for a brief respite from the deluge and the traffic, and were surprised when we were joined by the players: normally they’ve the good sense to choose somewhere where I’m not. Many believe, and I’m as guilty as the rest of you, that nobody can possibly feel as bad as the supporters after another defeat. Well, both you and I are wrong. The players looked absolutely devastated and embarrassed about the defeat. Why, I can’t really say or understand as they never give less than total commitment in every game.

They are, one and all, passionate about their rugby and the Club and obviously feel that they’ve let the supporters down. Well, I don’t know about you, but they haven’t let me down. All I have ever wanted is for a player to give his all for the team and to have great pride in the team shirt that’s on his back. I’ve never doubted that this is what we got from them, but now I have proof positive. Watch out Worcester Warriors.