Mar 07 Sale v Leicester

Sale Sharks v Leicester Tigers, EDF

Saturday Night Sunday Mourning

It was billed as the ‘big one’, unless of course, you were Welsh. A heavyweight contest between two of the finest teams in the English game: a re-run, of sorts, of the Premiership Final with both teams desperate for victory for their own unique reasons. Unsurprisingly, that wasn’t a view shared by many of the Blues and Ospreys fans dotted around the magnificent Millenium Stadium.

Many preferred to stay in the bars whilst the Sharks took on the all-conquering Tigers. Some of the hardier souls ventured out into the sunshine. They were, as they openly said, not particularly interested in the game, but saw it more as a warm-up before the main event: a sort of Anglicised hors d’oeuvre to whet the appetite in anticipation of the main Welsh beef course.

It’s funny how the EDF Cup affects us all. It has this peculiar ability to polarise national opinion. For the Welsh it’s the opportunity to show the others just how superior they think Celtic rugby really is. For the English it represents at best, a backdoor way into the Heineken Cup and at worst, another unnecessary addition to the fixture congestion of the English game. I couldn’t possibly comment of course. Still, I’d paid for both matches so I was determined to stay on and wait for a bit of Welsh pudding.

The match did, in some ways at least, live up to its billing, in that it was the heavyweight contest promised, but, in many other ways, it disappointed. There was undoubtedly endeavour and purpose to the Sharks’ play, but the finesse was never quite there. It seemed obvious from the first whistle that this was a game neither side wanted to lose. Consequently it was never really likely that we would get rugby that would set the pulse racing: in fact for forty minutes the pulse could barely summon anything other than the shallowest of beats. Both sides set about battering each other in to submission as a few Blues and Ospreys fans snoozed nearby.

I have to accept that it wasn’t exactly pretty to watch, but I would take issue with one or two of the more derogatory reports I’ve read in the Welsh Press. In an exhaustive and comprehensive 200 word assessment of the match we were told the game was ‘mind-numbingly predictable’ and the style of play was ‘symptomatic of all that’s wrong with the Guinness Premiership’. They don’t believe in pulling their punches down in the valleys, do they? Granted, it wasn’t scintillating, but for once we tried to run the ball with Larry pulling the strings in the three quarters.

We were able to compete with the Tigers inspite of a one-eyed referee who was clearly having one of those days and a pitch that was truly dreadful. I lost count of the number of times both sets of players lost their footing. Had Big Ted not had a sudden rush of blood, we probably could’ve reached half time still within touching distance. Fair play to Mr Owens who got that decision right, though the tackle was so telegraphed and late that Mr Magoo could’ve spotted it.

At least Big Ted managed to bring Alesana Tuilagi down, which was an achievement the rest of the team singularly struggled to accomplish for the rest of the game. From the penalty and resulting line-out Leicester, and Tuilagi, ran the ball and simply steamrollered through the Sharks midfield, touching down by the posts. After that it was always likely to be an uphill struggle.

Whatever was said at the interval worked wonders: the Sharks came out inspired and determined and took the game to Leicester. We started to play as a team and started to move the ball quickly out to the flanks - we really managed to stretch the Tigers’ defence. Larry began to vary his game and put in what I think was his best display of the season: hopefully that should go some way to silencing the critics who’ve done nothing but pan him. Then again, you can’t please some of the people all of the time. It’s just a pity he took a knock and had to be replaced.

Seabass reverted to his more accustomed role as leader and warrior and brushed aside a despairing lunge from Moody and a tackle from Murphy, straight out of Riverdance, to touch down in the corner. Although Larry missed the conversion we continued to pressurise the Tigers defence and had them on the back foot for much of the opening quarter. We could’ve and should’ve scored, or at the very least been awarded a penalty after an infringement on Maggie, but the referee decided to take control and centre stage and from then our fate was sealed.

I don’t believe that referees can be responsible for a team winning or losing a game but they can undoubtedly have a defining influence on the outcome. Nigel Owens was poor and his handling of the game was one of the worst I’ve ever had the misfortune to witness. Everyone I spoke to agreed on that, if nothing else. He was responsible for at least nine of the points we conceded and cost us the chance of pushing Leicester right to the very end. Could we have won? I can’t say. Should we have won? Probably not on balance, but, who knows, things may well have been different if the right calls had been made by the officials.

In spite of these shackles the team still managed to rally. Whatever else might be said, no-one should ever doubt the commitment of our players. They fought and struggled for every ball in the dying minutes of the game. Nacho powered through in the corner, and we pinned the Tigers back in their own ten metres, but sadly it all came too late.

So there’ll be no Heineken Cup for us next season then. Maybe there won’t be one anyway. I am saddened by this, without any doubt, but where there’s life there’s hope. Perhaps the return trip to the Parc des Princes will have to be put on ice, but there’s always the European Shield to look forward to and the possibility of trips to pastures new.

In the meantime, it’s back to the business of assuring our Premiership status for the next campaign. Northampton may have lost on Sunday and be favourites for the drop, but nothing is set in stone. Our destiny lies in our own hands. We have to get points against either Bath or Harlequins. We need probably five more points to be safe. Personally, I’d rather get them against the Tigers on Good Friday. We now owe them one.

I almost forgot – puddings. Well, I have to say that Welsh desserts can be highly recommended. The Ospreys and Blues match was a joy to watch. It may be of course that I was simply more relaxed and had no vested interest, but the game was a cracker with Ospreys winning comfortably in the end. It had all the makings of a contest, until surprise, surprise, the referee stepped in with his size twelves. Wayne Barnes dealt out the cards quicker than the slickest croupier, killing off the game before it really had a chance to get started. The only consolation was, at least he was English. Shall we call it an honourable draw?