Oct 08 Sale v Munster

One Step Beyond ……


Would you rather be a big fish in a little pool or would you choose the more challenging and daring alternative? Personally I’d opt for the latter - I’d much prefer to be a tiddler in a bigger lake, swimming with the larger fish. Granted such aspirations may come at a cost: you might just get eaten up, but I still believe it’s a price that’s worth paying. No matter what field you’re in, be it rugby or business, if you aspire to be the best, you have to be prepared to test yourself at the highest level. To do otherwise is self-defeating: there’s simply no point in going over old ground and replicating successes you already know you’re capable of achieving? You have to set yourself challenges and strive for bigger and better things. Otherwise that little pool you lord over gets stagnant.

Sale have established themselves as a team with genuine Premiership credentials and are more than capable of holding their own in any secondary European competition. But if you want to be up there with the big boys of Heineken Cup rugby, you have to be prepared to trade punches with the best. Against the odds and many expectations Sale despatched the T14 runners up, Claremont Auvergne, with a dazzling display of scintillating and clinical rugby. Confidence was understandably high on the back of this victory, especially as Sale had already turned over the Irish once before at Edgeley. Granted this was at a time when Munster hadn’t been ‘Chabaled’ before and there was the small matter that O’Connell wasn’t fit, but you take what you’re given.

Munster, on the other hand came to Edgeley Park on the back of a workmanlike, yet unconvincing victory over Montauban at Thomond Park. It might not have been pretty, nor convincing, but it was a victory none the less. That’s the thing about Munster - even when they don’t play well, they still have the ability to grind out a result. They simply refuse to be beaten and are prepared to do whatever it takes to achieve this end. Having suffered at and learned from the hands of the masters of the dark arts, Leicester Tigers, Munster will use every trick in the book to get the result they want. That’s not a criticism by the way, if anything that’s the type of winning mentality I applaud. In fact, I look forward to the day when I can say that my own team have enough nous and experience on the biggest stage to do this. That’s why Munster are the double Heineken Cup Champions. They don’t come any bigger or meaner than Munster. If you can perform against this lot, then you know you’ve come of age.

For the first 5 minutes things looked promising: an expectant home crowd hoped for a continuation of the dominant form from Clermont. McAlister lofted up the high swirling kick and Chabal and Jonesy gave chase. Munster scrambled possession at the base of the resultant ruck and O’Leary launched the ball out on the full. Briggsy found Abraham from the line out and Peel fed the ball through to Chabal on the crashball. He was eventually brought to ground by Wallace but Quinlan was pinged at the ruck for going off his feet. Most supporters expected McAlister to slot over the penalty, but unfortunately it drifted wide.

The momentum continued to be with Sale though. Savage counter-rucking saw the ball pop out on the Sale side. Jonesy took the ball forward and into contact. O’Sullivan was pulled up by referee Berdos for not rolling away from the tackle. McAlister put the previous miss behind him and slotted over comfortably – normal service resumed then. Sale could in fact have inflicted more telling damage had the final ball been more accurate. Strangely Munster looked quite hesitant in the opening stages. An early foray into Sharks territory ended abruptly as Horan fumbled Mafi’s pass. Chabal hoofed the ball up field and gave chase. Dowling was the first to react to the threat but knocked on in the process when he felt Seabass breathing down his neck. The attacking 5 metre scrum was all set up for a sniping 9 like Peel as Munster were held back the full 5 metres from the base by the ref. Sadly the pass from Corcho was at boot level and Peel couldn’t collect.

Wallace took possession of the ball at the base of the Munster scrum and does what he does best, breaking Wiggy’s feeble tackle and getting Munster on the front foot. From there on, the momentum of the game changed. The Irishmen posed more and more of a threat offensively with Mafi, Earls, Warwick and Howlett causing particular problems. Everyone knows what a fine full back Howlett is and how effective he can be on the wing, but defensively he never seemed to be used by the All Blacks to such great effect. Whenever Sale threatened, he made sure that the ball never got out wide to Doherty either by pressing the space, or by making sure Lamont had no other option than to bring the ball back inside on the fewer and fewer occasions that Sale managed to get into the Munster half.

With the wind in their sails, Munster began to threaten from all over the park. O’Gara’s clever tactical kicking stretched Sale’s defensive cover. Both Mafi and Earls began to run some great lines and these, in combination with the decoy darts by Warwick pulled Sale out of position. You sensed it was only a matter of time before Munster got on the score sheet in spite of resolute Sale defence. O’Gara levelled the scores after Chabal was penalised for impersonating Superman and flying over the top of the ruck, following Doherty’s long clearance which caught the wind and ran dead. Worse was to come. Munster pressure from the line out created an opening for Earls. He broke the gainline but couldn’t escape the clutches of Cockbain. Wiggy cleared to touch and Flannery gifted possession back to the home side when his throw in wasn’t straight.

It looked like the threat was over, but eagle-eyed Monsieur Berdos spotted the crooked Peel feed to the Sale scrum. Before you could blink O’Leary had the ball out on the wing and Mafi and Earls were causing havoc in the Sale 22; a drop of the shoulder and a lovely floated pass to O’Gara created the fraction of space that Munster needed to break the Sale defence. That’s what they’d been probing for and when it came it was taken well. O’Gara delayed his pass and forced Abraham’s hand, offloading the ball just as he tackled to Quinlan. Cueto was caught in no man’s land and could only stand and stare as Quinlan popped the ball over his head to the advancing Warwick who touched down in the corner. It was a superbly worked score and only just desserts really for a period of extended pressure. O’Gara converted and Warwick quickly rubbed salt into the wound with an audacious drop goal.

A promising Sale attack from a bullocking Chabal charge with back up from Lobbe stuttered to a halt after Jonesy fumbled the ball in Munster’s 22. Earls counter-attacked and chipped the ball down the flank into the space behind Cueto. The retreating winger managed to get to the ball and back onto his feet, but Wiggy couldn’t find touch with his clearance. Unfortunately it went straight to Warwick who ran the ball back slightly in field and dropped a lovely long range running goal. It was a superb strike and astonishingly he nearly did it again minutes later. That attempt drifted just wide but both Lamont and Cueto were guilty of ball watching, almost allowing the predatory Howlett in for another poacher’s try.

Sale continued on the back foot for most of the rest of the half, with only a McAlister penalty to show for their efforts after Quinlan had gone off his feet after a quick tap by Peel. Munster continued to crank up the pressure and demonstrated as if we needed reminding why they’re such a top team. Wave after wave of relentless attacks rained down towards the Cheadle End, but somehow, through a mixture of skill, determination, last ditch defending and the odd bit of luck, Munster couldn’t break through again before the break. Even when Munster managed to win one against the head, Sale showed that they were not going to lie down without a fight. Any threat from the resulting 5 metre Munster attacking scrum was quashed when Faure got his body underneath Hayes and forced him to stand up.

Sale did, I’m glad to say, end the half with a bit more of a flourish after a lovely jinking break from McAlister. He managed to squeeze through the gap between Flannery and Horan and deftly offload backhanded to Briggsy who was up in support of him. He was snagged eventually by the irrepressible Wallace but not before the ball was recycled and fed back to Seabass on the crashball. Now you see him – now you don’t: one minute he was there and the next he’d been creamed by Mafi. Chabal left the field at the break looking a little rattled; then again you suspected that was the way most of the team probably felt: they’d been in one hell of a battle and were no doubt surprised that they were still in with a shout in spite of the relentless pressure.

When the changes were made after the break, the sense of relief felt around a packed Edgeley Park was palpable. Wiggy had done a fine job in Clermont standing in at stand off, but in truth I’m sure he’d be the first to admit that he’s not a natural 10 and that his kicking out of hand isn’t quite up to Charlie’s standard. In fact, in fairness to all concerned most of the damage last week was inflicted after normal service was resumed. Charlie for all his detractors can change a game and put the opposition on the back foot as he reads a game so well and moves the point of attack around.

Within minutes of him coming on Munster were on the back foot as his clever kicking turned them inside out and his ability to play flat drew on the Munster midfield creating space for McAlister who looked far more lively and threatening at inside centre. Although Munster increased their lead following a sloppy penalty after Keil had drifted into an offside position as Charlie lofted a bomb, the impetus was with the Sharks for the first 20 minutes. Clever inter-passing between Charlie and McAlister allowed Cueto and Lamont to get more of a foothold in the game and make more of an impact.

A quick pass out of a midfield ruck on the flank in Munster’s 22 was fed out to Hodgson. His lovely flighted pass found McAlister who approached at speed and winged the ball out to Cueto on the flank. 18 months ago he probably would’ve backed himself and his speed and taken Warwick on, but he opted to chip and chase and the ball bounced menacingly into touch just beyond the 5 metre line. The treat was definitely there, but the execution just wasn’t quite on the money. Not yet anyway. Munster began to get a taste of the medicine that Sale had received earlier and the pressure started to tell. Mafi upended young Marc Jones, the replacement hooker, during another Sale surge. The crowd bellowed ‘spear tackle’: it wasn’t as he clearly let him drop out of contact and certainly didn’t drive him into the ground. Was it a penalty? The jury’s out on that one. What it did signify was that Munster were rattled. McAlister floated the penalty from the wide flank through the uprights and suddenly it was game on.

Another Cueto break from a quick looped pass from Hodgson minutes later led to the build up for the try that was certainly coming and undoubtedly deserved. Cueto hit the gas and skinned 2 Munstermen before passing back in field to Corcho. The captain couldn’t take clean ball, but possession regained after an infringement at the ensuing ruck. Was Cuets’ pass forward? Well, it looked that way, but the guy with the whistle makes the calls and some you win, some you loose: perhaps it went some way to making up for the earlier obstructions and pulling back that he also missed, particularly at the line outs when spaces miraculously appeared from out of nowhere.

Wiggy spun out a quick pass to Charlie: he swapped reverse passes with Mac and that let Rory through as he straightened his run and cut back inside. Another quick ball from Wiggy was taken at a superb angle by Marc Jones and he crashed forward breaking the gainline. Although he was eventually hauled down by Wallace, yet again, he did manage to pop the ball up to Schoey. A bit of a hoof off the shin and some juggling and bob’s your uncle – try by the posts. McAlister converted and it was really game on then.

It’s at this point that a long European pedigree comes in useful. Sure Sale have many players who’ve played internationally at the highest level, but Munster have been here before in this competition. Not only have they seen and bought the t-shirt, they’ve redesigned it. They don’t panic when the pressure’s on and neither do they go out gung ho looking for the scent of blood. They play within themselves whilst cranking up the pressure and wait for the opportunities to come along as they know they will. Sale if anything tried to force the issue: yes they were on a roll and the force was with them, but if you try to make things happen too quickly, you’re liable to either make the occasional mistake or lose sight of the bigger picture. Sale desperately wanted the win, but what they couldn’t afford to do was lose and not even take a bonus point for their troubles.

Minutes later Sale turned over a speculative punt up field. Somehow it came out on the Munster side through the mass of bodies lying on the floor. How? Well, I could probably guess, but like I said that’s what the Irish boys are good at and they don’t get caught. O’Gara punted the ball downfield for Howlett to chase. The only thing standing between him and a certain try was Schoey who was chasing the ball hell for leather. He managed to get down to it first but was immediately pounced upon by Howlett then Wallace. He wasn’t allowed to get to his feet, so you would’ve expected the penalty to be about to go the home side, but the referee thought otherwise and penalised him for holding on. O’Gara’s kick hit the outside of the top of the uprights and bounced out. Well that’s how it looked from where I was sat. At the other end that apparently was not the case. Maybe that was divine justice after all, yet it simply served to make Munster play with increased fervour.

What happened next you could almost have guessed, if not the exact method, well, at the very least the outcome. Sale made a silly error and it cost us dearly. I’d hoped, along with my fellow travellers down at the Liberty stadium a few seasons ago, that we learned the harsh lessons of European rugby – i.e. if you’re beaten by the better side, then fair enough, but don’t put the chances on a plate. Make the other team work for opportunities and protect what you have at any cost. A relatively harmless chip through from Howlett offered no real threatening opportunities, but with the Munster line coming up field at speed what was obvious is that a quick throw in was suicidal. Rory’s ball to Charlie gave no chance to launch the pill anywhere and he was scragged by Quinlan as soon as he caught it.

Although it took several phases of play to finally get the ball over the line, it was obvious that it was coming. There was intent about Munster and they can’t have failed to notice that Jonah had dropped off onto the wing after picking up a knock. You just knew that’s where the ball was heading. Even though 3 Sale players were covering 3 attackers, if one of them’s injured, you’ve had it. O’Leary whipped the ball out to Mafi. Jonah couldn’t attempt the hit and McAlister wasn’t across quickly enough to cover for him. Mafi showed a lovely touch and offloaded to Wallace and Wiggy’s tackle was brushed aside. O’Gara may have missed the conversion, but it was advantage Munster once again.

The last 10 minutes were as high octane as you’re likely to see in this competition, but in spite of all the intent, it was the Irish boys who were calling the tune. Even with Mafi off in the bin for a tackle that deserved a yellow, Munster still held firm. O’Gara’s drop goal rubbed further salt in the wound and just went to prove how ruthless a team these Munster men are. They will give you absolutely nothing if they can, especially if they think you might be a challenger. Tait almost stole in on the flank for a try that would’ve brought Sale back into bonus point range, but he was held up. Wiggy’s desperate little dart for the line was similarly dealt with, this time by the foot of O’Connell that held the ball up. Even an attempt to run the ball from deep within the Sale half was ended abruptly by Howlett, who’d raced 30 yards just to nip Doherty’s chances in the bud before he even got a chance to start to think he had a chance. That’s the kind of mindset and resolution that makes a European Champion – that's what Sale will have to strive for if they’re ever to lift the big one. You work as a team, you never surrender and you certainly never make it easy for anybody.

So, a very disappointing day was had if you support Sale Sharks. What had promised to be an historic day, proved to be a bit of a downer. Yet strangely, I wasn’t as gutted as I thought I would’ve been. Why, you might ask? I can’t really answer that because the thing is, I’m not sure myself. It may be simply that the better team won: of that there’s no question. It might even be that I still hold out some hope that the fat lady’s not warbled her vocal chords on this one yet. (I know, that’s unlikely as it’s no longer in our own hands and we have to rely on others). It could be that I just feel that we’re not quite ready for that level of competition yet, perhaps it’s one step beyond us at the moment: I’m sure if we carry on like this then one day we may be – just not yet.

I guess the bottom line is that I’m just proud of the team and the way they threw themselves into it wholeheartedly. On another day, if we’d started the game with the players we eventually finished with, maybe we might just have pulled it off. Had Charlie played from the start, who knows what might’ve happened? The only thing you can be sure of is that, in spite of any what ifs or maybes, Munster have sufficient mileage on the clock to probably scupper that one too. Is there anything they haven’t had to deal with? Probably not, but don’t spoil my dream just yet.

Oct 08 London Irish v Sale

Try a little tenderness…

At the end of a week in which Sale lost 2 important matches, its Premiership defensive record and suffered 3 appalling injuries, you’d be forgiven for thinking this Sharks fan might be more than a tad depressed. Strangely though, that’s not how I feel. Obviously I’m gutted that we’ve lost 3 key players for a considerable time at a point in the season where it’s definitely time for all hands on deck. This is particularly so in the case of Coxy: he’s been a defensive rock all season and is a born leader with the credentials you suspect to lead the team at some stage in the future.

Yet yesterday’s performance by the team that was written off on paper against Cardiff and the outstanding contributions of the younger lads, particularly Halsall, Fearns and Tait, has left me with a new found sense of optimism and buoyancy. There is hope and a light at the end of the tunnel – and no, before you jump to any misguided conclusions, it’s not an approaching express train, though with Clermont and Munster imminent maybe you might have a point there.

The Madejski Stadium has never been a happy hunting ground as far as I’m concerned. I know we beat them a couple of years back when Stan sneaked over for a couple of poacher’s tries at the bitter end, but by and large, we tend to leave disappointed and deflated. Most of my trips down there have been depressing, none more so than last year: that particular game for me was as demoralising as the loss at HQ to the Falcons in the Powergen Final, and the capitulation in San Sebastien. The team didn’t show up last January and were given the run-around by what was actually a pretty ordinary London Irish side at that time.

On the face of it, having lost this season’s match and shipped 4 tries you’d probably be expecting me to be reaching for the cut-throat. Funnily that’s not how I felt as I shuffled out of the sparsely populated stadium. Don’t get me wrong – I was bitterly disappointed because I thought, like many others that that was a match we were sure to win, but I wasn’t depressed. I was actually inspired. Yes inspired, though in fairness I have to confess that the inspiration came from watching an Exile’s performance that was professional, clinical and superb. They bossed the match for the majority of the game and showed just how you can play controlled and exciting rugby. Most other teams bemoan the ELVs and blame them for all the faults and failings within the game: London Irish embrace them and grab the game by the scruff of the neck, demonstrating that it is possible to make the new regulations work for you and still produce rugby that sets the heart racing.

Whether you love or loathe these new experimental laws, the one thing that is indisputable is that they’ve changed the way the game is played. As far as I can see you’ve only got 3 ways to play now: you either kick for territory and keep the ball alive and hope that the opposition drop a clanger, or you kick for touch, providing you’re in your own 22 and the ball hasn’t been passed back into it, or you throw caution to the wind and run the ball out of your own 22.

That you may think isn’t any different than it used to be, save that most teams tended to utilise a mixture of all the various options. The fundamental difference though, is the stricter interpretation of the rule about going off your feet at the breakdown. When other teams infringe then this ‘ruck fundamentalism’ is the best thing since sliced bread: when it goes against you, well, then frankly it’s a nonsense and officiating gone mad. Anyway, teams have to adapt their game plan depending on the opposition they’re facing. Against Gloucester and Sarries, kicking for field position worked well enough whilst not exactly proving particularly attractive to watch. Sale tried to run the ball more against Bristol and Newcastle: granted it didn’t have the crowd swinging from the rafters but it was effective. Whatever you may think about the tactics, the end I guess justifies the means: 4 games played and 4 wins. You can’t really argue with that. The Exiles though are a completely different kettle of fish.

If you kick for territory and don’t find touch, annoyingly the Notnots have the temerity to run it straight back at you: Delon, Ojo, Tagicakibau, Elvis, Mapasua, Hewat and Hodgson are lethal on the counter attack, so it’s probably best not to give it to them. If you opt for kicking to touch then the deadly duo of Casey and Kennedy will more than likely win their own set piece or disrupt your own and put you on the back foot as soon as not. So, you’re left with just the one option – run the ball out of your own 22 and use the power of your forwards and the pace of your backline. Sadly, you hit a problem there as well: the Irish rush defence is up and in your face before you can blink. Mapasua, Elvis and Steffon Armitage, let alone the rest of the forwards play right on the edge and smash anything that comes their way. If the ball goes to ground you’re no better of either, as Steffon hits those rucks like an express train. So whatever game plan you opt for, you’re caught between a rock and a hard place.

Sale opted to run the ball whenever it was on and tried to make headway by taking the ball through the phases and gaining territory. Thankfully for once the referee tried to let the game flow. Whenever it was called for, Charlie would punt the ball into space behind the advancing Irish backline or launch a bomb down Armitage’s throat: Delon though looked very comfortable under the high ball even when pressurised by McAlister or Bell, and always had support on hand to get the ball out and into space.

For the first 15 minutes the game was evenly balanced. Any attacking Irish threat was snubbed out by Sale’s mean and effective defence. Even the marauding Mapasua couldn’t find a way past Big Mac and Seabass. At the other end any attacking opportunities were dealt with brutally by Mapasua and Steffon. The scrum just about held its own though both Big Ted and Stuey Turner were having problems with Lea’aetoa and particularly young Corbisiero. Sale’s line outs were steady and providing the percentage ball was called at either 2 or 3 in the set piece, possession was generally assured, though little could be done with the clean ball as Mapasua and Elvis were in Peel’s face as soon as he tried to shift the ball out. Seabass managed to turn over one Irish set piece much to the astonishment of the Irish fans I sat with. However, he also turned over a couple of his own throws when the long ball to the back of the line out was tried. It was all pretty even until that point with the only difference being a Hewat penalty when Sale were pinged for not driving straight at a 15 metre defensive scrum.

Irish began to up the ante after that. It was almost as if they’d used the opening quarter to sound out Sale’s defence and spot any potential weaknesses. Hewat playing at stand off, and looking far more effective than when he plays at 15, began to exert more and more of an influence. He stands flat like Charlie, and latched onto the quick ball from Paul Hodgson at each breakdown getting the pill out to the flanks. Our own esteemed fly half couldn’t exert as great an influence in the second quarter as Sale were on the backfoot. At defensive scrums he took up his position at full back whilst McAlister covered the 10 channel and any potential breaks from either Steffon or Hala’ufia. It’s effective, of that there’s no doubt and it does offer him some protection, but it comes at a cost. Sale’s counter-attacking game has suffered this season because he’s playing so deep.

Whenever the opportunity presented itself, Sale were quick to take advantage and run the ball, and were rewarded for their endeavour with a penalty when Irish were pinged for not binding at the scrum . Unfortunately things started to go pear-shaped and basic errors began to creep into their game: there were too many knock ons, missed first up tackles and the ball was often spilled in contact, though with the force and ferociousness of Mapasua and Steffon’s tackling, I suppose that’s hardly surprising. The Saxon’s flanker covered every inch of turf and proved beyond doubt that he isn’t just a human wrecking ball – he’s got good hands and has lots to offer offensively. Irish’s counter-rucking game was superb and they always committed the numbers at the breakdown, usually emerging with the ball. It wasn’t only the big units who did this though: Ojo and Delon got into the thick of it whenever there was a threat in their own 22 or a sniff of an opportunity in the Sale half.

For all this attacking Irish menace, Sale’s defence stood firm and resolute. The Exiles worked the ball from one side of the park to the other but couldn’t find a way through. Hewat opted for the drop goal when it became obvious that even the combined force of Steffon and Lea’aetoa wasn’t going to breach that defensive unit. Then the wheel came off in the 37th minute.

Briggsy was pinged for not throwing straight into a 5 metre defensive line out. Irish moved the ball quickly through the scrum and attacked down the blind side. They were almost in when Chris Bell killed the ball and prevented what you’d guess was a certain score. Or that’s what it looked like. My attention and everyone else in the East stand was drawn to Coxy who went down badly as the scrum righted itself. It was obvious that the injury was serious and it was terribly saddening to watch him hobble from the field: he’s been a stand out performer this year and will be greatly missed over the next few months. Actually, forget the future; he was missed there and then as Sale’s game went to pieces after that.

By the time he’d left the field I think most people had forgotten Bell’s little act of villainy, except of course the bloke with the whistle. He gave him 10 minutes in the bin and the rest is history. Irish opted for the line out from the penalty not surprisingly, and Casey took the clean ball. Lea’aetoa and Corbisiero drove the ball forwards and Thorpe peeled off the back of the ruck and drove over in the corner. Hewat couldn’t convert from the angle, but it mattered not as you suspected the damage had already been done. Sale’s defensive record was smashed and Irish eyes were smiling at the prospect of a 9 minute slot in the second period against a depleted and back-peddling Sharks side. Even a late Charlie penalty for an Irish offside couldn’t really put a gloss on it. Technically yes, they were still in with a shout, but you kind of sensed the worst.

By and large the first few minutes of the second period were pretty much one way traffic. Sale defended manfully and bodies were put on the line, but there was a sense of inevitability about what was about to come. Sale’s handling got worse as the pressure increased. The scrum suffered and stuttered. Big Ted couldn’t get his considerable frame under the slightly ‘smaller’ Lea’aetoa and couldn’t drive up and through him. Consequently he was pinged constantly by Mr Rowden for either not getting the bind or taking the scrum down. Whether it was fair or not depends on who you support, but the guy with the whistle always wins. On the tight head side, Stuey was being given the run around by the 20 year old, New York born, under 20 international, Alex Corbisiero. He was a menace both in the set piece and in the loose: another little gem unearthed by Toby Booth.

Irish were awarded a penalty just inside the Sharks’ half after Ormsby had dropped onto a hacked punt from Delon: he managed to keep his fingers, just, but found himself isolated and was penalised for holding on. Hewat cleared to touch and Irish took play up into Sale’s 10 metres. It seemed odd to make a substitution at such a crucial juncture. Rory replaced Doc and Bruno came on at hooker. Briggsy was probably knackered and had been here, there and everywhere, but his line out throwing had been accurate by and large. Bruno’s throwing has been hit and miss for much of the season. When you’re under the cosh so close to your own line, you know that safety is the priority: play the percentage ball, retain possession and clear your lines. You don’t throw long and try to run it. So what did Sale do? You guessed it – it went long over the top of Chabal and was turned over. Irish smashed into the ruck and recycled the ball, spinning it out wide onto the left flank and neither Bruno nor Charlie could stop Hewat form touching the ball down. Bruno got smashed and is out for months with a bicep tear and Charlie got into a fight. Now that’s something you rarely see and was probably indicative of how frustrated Sale were becoming.

Briggsy was back on after barely 2 minutes and Thomas replaced the ineffective Tait who’d cut a lonely and isolated figure at full back. In fairness he hardly saw the ball and is probably still settling in with his new team mates, but you expect more from a player of his stature. Hopefully that will come sooner rather than later. Rory added a sense of urgency to Sale’s attacking play when he moved to 15 and was a threat whenever he ran the ball. He’s a natural full back who knows when its on, but also knows when to clear his lines. He gave Sale the cutting edge that had been missing. Unfortunately, even when Sale were back to 15 these rare attacking forays went unrewarded as handling errors let the Sharks down. The body count started to mount as first Seabass went down with an injury, followed by Schoey and big Mac.

Seabass managed to get to his feet and looked well and truly fired up. In spite of the punishment he was receiving and the bad calls he got from the assistant ref for a blatant trip and an obvious obstruction, he still ran the ball at the Exiles whenever possible. He was eventually taken off and replaced by Abraham, which is probably just as well as he was getting somewhat peeved at our friend running the lines and his inability to spot the obvious. Roberts replaced Stuey who looked dead on his feet after being run ragged by Corbisiero.

It was the young gun who struck next and it was probably rather fitting. It might’ve been only his fifth first team game, yet he showed fantastic potential. He latched onto a ball 10 metres from the Sale line, after a great arching break fro Delon and superb support work from Mapasua. Sale missed the first tackle on him as he barged towards the line and then proceeded to miss 2 more. It was a deserved try in the light of the amount of work he’d put in on the night. It could’ve been worse moments later when Sale desperately tried to get the ball forward as quickly as possible. Cueto floated out a long, looping pass to Charlie but it was intercepted by that man Mapasua again. Had Ojo been able to hold onto the ball, he would’ve been in because no one had the pace to match him.

You knew what was coming and on balance it was only deserved, but that fourth try was inevitable. McAlister went down again with a heavy blow to the knee and Schoey took a big bang to the back. Both should probably have left the field, but all the replacements save Wiggy had been used. Now I know he’s Mr Versatile – but donkey row? I think not.

Big Mac went onto the wing out of harms way, but was clearly in trouble and not fit for purpose by then. It was his missed first up tackle on Tagicakibau that led to the final try of the night, though the winger also evaded tackles by Charlie and Thomas. It was just reward for a complete performance and richly deserved as Irish were superior in all aspects, and made a reasonable Sale team look poor even though they weren’t as bad as a lot of people thought – they were simply outclassed on the night.

Even with only 14 men on the pitch after McAlister had hobbled off, Sale still had the chance to get on the score board. A superb looping run from Rory and some great link up play between Charlie and Lee Thomas, gifted the ball to Briggsy yards from the Irish try line, but sadly he didn’t have the legs and knocked on in a desperate effort to grab for the ball. It could’ve been a score, but it wouldn’t have made any difference.

So another year and another defeat at the Madejski. One day I’m sure we’ll win down there and I’d better be there when it happens. I can’t really complain about the result as the better team won. All you can do is congratulate the Exiles and show respect for a team that plays with initiative and endeavour. You’ve also got to doff your cap to their fitness conditioner: if he can keep Big Bob Casey running for 80 minutes, then he knows his stuff. They’ll turn over most visiting teams if they perform like that. I take heart from the performance of the younger lads in the Cardiff match at the weekend and am delighted to see that Chris Jones is fit and raring to go again.

It’s off to Claremont next and a very tough, challenging encounter. It’ll be hard, of that there’s no doubt, but it is do-able. Come on Sale – do it, not just for the team and the supporters, do it for Coxy, Bruno and Ripol: show the French that you can play with the pomp and precision of London Irish.