Quins vs Saints: Gone with the Wind
By Gregory P
February 8 2016
It was an astonishing finish that left Quins fans stunned, almost speechless, put 1,000 watt smiles on the faces of the Saints fans and left neutrals pestering Jim Mallinder for his Lottery numbers. But I was there. I hadn’t been drinking….much. But, I saw it with my own eyes. Northampton put Lazarus into a seriously distant second place and nicked a win 27-23 with the last play of the game – we were further into the red than Greece. While it was a monument to Quins stupidity, and that’s being very, very polite, Northampton took the Oscar for doggedness and cussedness and with it four points. I recovered the power of speech somewhere about Barnes, half way to home.
For Quins fans the outcome obliterated the fact that we saw a great game of rugby between two teams trying to play a handling game that had an ending Hitchcock could have scripted….or maybe Buster Keaton depending on your allegiance and capacity for sympathy to Ben Botica.
The last three weeks haven’t been great for Quins. We had the high of a pulsating win over Sarries and a points avalanche against Cardiff to book our spring break in Europe. Like Jimmy Cagney in White Heat we were “On top of the world, Ma!”. That’s been followed by a hefty dose of merde in Montpelier, fog on the Tyne and COS turning into the Invisible Man. We’re suddenly muttering “we couldda been contenders” while checking our one-way tickets to Palookaville. [Ed: they play in South West Three B in case you were wondering where Palookaville is].
The response to events on board has – in a week that saw Dad’s Army back on the big screen – varied from Private Fraser’s “we’re doomed”, no surprise there then, through Jonesy’s “don’t panic” up to Sergeant’s Wilson’s serenity. Until 79 minutes and 59 seconds into today’s game I was firmly in the Sergeant Wilson camp. Now I’ve got this nagging Scots voice in my head…..and I daren’t look at the board, at least not without my analyst present.
Meanwhile, back at 2pm, the rain was a no show but the wind was epic. It howled south to north and we played into it in the first half. The wind and tons of sand on the pitch momentarily made me think I was in Skegness: it really was that bracing. Northampton began very sharply, turning over Tebaldi and piling on the pressure. Burrell – who treated the game like a job application to Eddie Jones – boomed his way through the cover. Woods, another application form Sir?, joined the attack and burst over the try line with not much more than a minute gone. Greg Garner wasn’t certain about the grounding and nor was the TMO so Northampton made the trek back from kick off formation (that’s not fooling anyone, lads) to the scrum five. If it was a let off, Northampton made use of their time in the red zone when Myler converted a short penalty for not rolling away after five minutes.
From a Burrell knock on to the restart – the kick almost did a U turn in the air – Quins built a great period of pressure. The forwards showed some good hands and lots of go forward, in particular Horwill and Kyle the squad philosopher, “I Sinck therefore I am”. Seriously, Sinckler was a right old handful for the first half. From one of the forward bursts Sinckler and Horwill exchanged passes – like they were Guscott and Carling, but a lot less prima donna-ish, although isn’t everyone? – and Merrick in support charged over under the posts. It was blistering stuff. The ref had a quick look on screen but it stood and Nev added the conversation. Only 8 minutes gone and it was 10-3. It was a good counter punch.
From the restart Quins immediately gave a penalty away. Just how many times does that happen! No wonder most coaches are bald. On a calm day it would have been a gimme for Myler but the wind took it onto a post and we scrambled it clear. Nev then suffed up a chance to properly clear our lines from a penalty. He tried to keep it low into the wind – quite sensibly – but it was so low that it went by Tube. It didn’t find touch. Northampton ran it back at us, and again Burrell made great yards. He found Ken Pisi with enough room to put on his dancing shoes and he went one way and then the other as he waltzed through the cover. Christian Day was in support – good work by him – and he cantered under the posts. Easy-Pisi. Myler topped up the score. At barely 15 minutes in it was 10-7 to the Saints and we were all catching our breath a bit, wondering just when did plug ugly second rowers turn into leading men.
The game continued in a punch and counter punch fashion with a wind assisted Northampton having the better of it. A sloppy forward pass with men over cost them points. Credit to Quins: the blitz defence was working well and everyone making the tackles count. One hit by Merrick was seismic. The defence and Nev finding his kicking range led to a sustained period in the Saints half. From a line out following a Nev touch finder Sinckler and Horwill again punched the holes in the first line of green and black [Ed: you mean washed out blue and grey then?]. Quick hands and a great break by Sloan saw us to Northampton’s 22 and then Sloan produced a back of the hand off load (that only George Lowe could have taught him) to a galloping Chis who gassed his way to the try line. The conversion was added by Nev. We were up again at 14-10 and 24 minutes gone.
The counter punch from Northampton was quick and produced a scrum penalty. Rather than chance the wind, Myler put it into the north by northwest corner. We killed the drive and then turned them over with Yarde leading the prison break. It was stopped on half way – amid a few howls about Pisi’s possible armless tackle. From the resulting line out Harry Mallinder showed he could play a bit too by breaking the Quins cover, with Burrell on his shoulder to finish in muscular style. Eddie are you watching? Myler added the extras to make it 17-14 at 34 minutes. I’d already lined up my Nepotism XV, skippered by Owen Farrell, for some cheap jokes [Ed: that’s your only sort, mate]. In fact Harry Mallinder had a cracking game. He really is there on merit and looks one to watch.
The half ended with Quins struggling to impose themselves on Saints – the Saints scrum started to get a bit of momentum. It didn’t help that we argued with the ref following a penalty against us as an attack cratered. Mr Garner was happy to add 10% to the bill and Myler boomed it down field. It ended up with us scrambling defensively. Tebaldi flung out an arm in front of a pass for a deliberate knock on. Greg Garner produced yellow and Tebaldi had a longer than planned half time break.
Just as Northampton came out of the blocks on a wind assisted basis so too did Quins as the second half began. Even with Nev filling in at scrum half we picked up a quick penalty when Northampton dropped a scrum. Nev brilliantly caressed it over – no kick was easy out there – and honours were even with 43 minutes gone.
Incidentally, Nev is never going to make it as a scrum half – he puts the ball in straight; and, was that newly acquired tattoo that he was sporting today? His legs are often covered in bandages like he’s auditioning for The Mummy so I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen both legs uncovered. From where I was sat he appears to have a street map of Otago tattooed on his left leg.
Even with 14 men Quins kept up the pressure but Northampton picked up a break when Greg Garner declined to use the yellow card following a Northampton knock on that looked a touch deliberate. The lack of consistency is what drives directors of rugby mad…..and bald. The pressure told in the end with Nev finding another 3 pointer at 49 minutes to make it 20-17. With Tebaldi back from his anti-pasti Quins cranked up the pressure and took root in the Saints half – my notes on the game couldn’t keep up with events on the pitch. Saints diced with death as they flung out some seriously suicidal passes in their own in goal area. A combination of Mallinder’s running and Lee Dixon’s marshalling the troops saw them escape. The dam nearly burst when Yarde blisteringly found space and sent Sloan over. To their credit Northampton clung onto him as he dived and the ball spilled. Had we banked five points then, the game may have gone from Northampton.
Northampton took advantage of the escape and Lee Dixon began to make a serious nuisance of himself (as opposed to his default level of “just a nuisance”) with some quick tap and goes – it was a good tactic into the storm. Foden too began to find some space and suddenly the game was being played in the middle of the pitch. We then had a Quins comedy short line out routine when Gray found Wallace’s head and it still found its way to Tebaldi.
But the wind was still in the director’s chair as Northampton struggled to get mileage with any clearance kicks. We picked up a penalty for a hit on Horwill while he was airborne, in the Northampton 22. By this time Botica was on for Nev and we chose – amid a roaring crowd - to put in the corner. Even with the wind there was still a better than even chance that we could have picked up three points. Hmmm…..we’ve been here before haven’t we. Northampton disrupted the line out and stopped us going over but not quite legally. Tom Wood saw the flash of yellow from Zoro Garner. We kicked to corner again……surely five points?......surely not as it happened. We stuffed up the maul didn’t get it to ground and we were turned over.
Dixon led the Northampton break out and suddenly Quins were defending a line out following a kick to the corner by Saints. Even with Victor Matfield on the pitch – looking like an escapee from Guns and Roses – they couldn’t roll one over. The pressure continued though and while Northampton couldn’t convert their advantage to five points they took a gimme penalty under the posts with replacement fly half Hanrahan making it 20-20 with 8 minutes left.
The counter punch from Quins was quick and potentially decisive? Straight back into the Saints 22 and Botica turned a holding on penalty into gold so at 74 minutes it was 23-20. Surely the fresh Quins legs on the pitch and the howling wind would see us home?
But….we didn’t get it our own way from the restart and Burrell yet again made hard yards back at us. My notes at this point just say “Eeek”. It’s not going to get me the Pulitzer Prize is it? In fact my notes get seriously patchy at this point as I watched – almost in slow motion – Quins throw the game away.
At 77 minutes we’d scrambled our way out of trouble and had a scrum on our own 22. We seemed to secure the ball but rather than kick it to Whitton and make Northampton play in their own 22 we picked and went, and picked and went, and got sodding well penalised at a ruck. Northampton – presumably not fancying the odds of a kick into the wind – went for the corner. With seconds left on the clock we shut out the rolling maul, Matfield and all, and Northampton failed to get to ground. Good effort Saints, well stuck at it, see you next year.
And yet. Scrum to Quins. It’s gone red. Very red. Safe ball. Kick it out. Four points. Day follows night. It was that predictable. It was more predictable than Jeremy Guscott’s summing up.
And yet, in super stuff-up-o-vision slow mo we got crappy ball from the scrum. Tebaldi got scragged. The ball was finally extracted from a seriously constipated ruck and found itself in Ben Botica’s hands. All he had to do was turn and kick it into the south stand. He could run out of play. He could touch it down. He had more options than a derivatives dealer. Geoff Boycott’s mum was volunteering to do it. There were people on the pitch. We thought it was all over. IT WAS THAT SIMPLE. IT REALLY WAS.
And yet, Bot boomed out a big touch finder that swirled and whirled and was gone with the wind….. into the hands of Foden and the Northampton back three. They ran it back at us at jail break speed. Quins were out on their feet; lungs were burning; legs were jelly; there were bodies on the floor; it looked like the aftermath of a good night on the lash organised by Gavin Henson and Danny Cipriani; holes appeared; great big holes.
And yet, Foden found space – he shimmied – he showed – he went…..under the posts for five points and two more for Hanrahan to twist the knife.
All I could hear was a strange thud…..it was the sound of 14,000 jaws hitting the ground at once. We were gone, gone with the wind.
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C. O. Y. S. !!
Mobbs
"Would such bile and vitriol have been sprouted on this site?"
Working answer 'yes' but never on a Sunday for that, as the song goes, is our Saints day of rest.
Given the circumstances in the last seconds for you lot (yup, another Saint here!), that's a great read Mr P and a credit to ComeAllWithin...
Thank you.
I shall keep a look out for more reports from you - your player comparisons were spot on (although I would hesitate to call Mr Carling a Prima Donna face to face!).