Promises. Promises.

By OxonRob
February 18 2004

A glorious result, but a curiously less than satisfying game, a frequently scrappy affair. Are we becoming spoilt, and expecting too much? It could well be the case. Our guys were better than their guys and I take nothing away from them, when I say ‘We can do better, but we didn’t do too badly.’

One felt there was only ever going to be one winner, but we somehow failed to convince totally. For all that we pummelled away at the Saracens line, made searing breaks, linked, looped and swooped at high speed throughout, we seemed to have a statutory mistake up our sleeve, ready to be produced just in time to stop us scoring.

This sounds ungrateful after a match which we won with five good tries, getting a welcome bonus point. In fact it sounds downright rude when so many people had good games and did good things.

This is actually a difficult game to summarise without sounding trite or clichéd or both. It was pulsating, and full of action, half breaks, brave tackles and even the now compulsory attempted handbagging in front of the stand. (This non-event occurred when the over-zealous (and spindly) Saracens 15 tackled Nick Kennedy while he was already on the ground in touch. Nick looked more perplexed than angry, the referee called a scrum for some other misdemeanour, and the Saracens bench gave their player some ‘parental’ advice.)

Underfoot was distinctly damp, and we had a little rain during the game, but neither side seemed fazed by it. The handling on both sides was pretty good. So was much of the kicking from hand, on both sides.

Our team looked distinctly competent on paper, and our bench would not have disgraced the Madstad, with Nick Kennedy, Adrian Flavin, Kevin Burke and Phil Murphy all seeking a pipe-opener after injury.

The assembled throng of more than 200 included at least one medical practitioner, in the person of Dr B Venter, who sat between Conor and Paddy Lennon. We could not help but wonder at the reason for his visit to London.

Before we knew it, Ed Thrower had an easy pot at goal from in front and it was 3-0. In fact it was nearly ten minutes before Sarries broke out of their half. Then Kevin Barrett did a Matt Dawson, taking off at speed from a penalty near half way, to be called back for a re-take once the referee was ready. It was noticeable that we were already trying to do everything at high speed, most particularly when taking the ball into contact. It was warming to see how difficult we were making it for our opponents to bring us down. This remained the case throughout.

Neil Whitworth pulled off a superb long touch kick from defence, which ‘jest kept rollin’ along’ half the length of the pitch, before sagging into touch over the Sarries 22. No chance of anyone being silly enough to try to collar that ball. Then ET missed a long touchline penalty, just short, and we saw the strangest try ever. The drop-out fell to ET on halfway, who passed right. Someone took the ball up into contact and flicked it out to the next man in line who had a Sarrie on top of him. Nonchalantly the ball was flicked again, but between his legs, and found its way to a surprised Jason Luff on the right wing, who scampered quickly to the corner for a converted try. 10-0.

Sarries were getting ball too at this stage, but our second rows especially (messrs Roche and Johnson) were both tackling like demons, all over the park. There seemed to be a collective will that they shall not pass – and they didn’t. Then the Sarries 2 and 1 combined to foray up their right wing, and looked dangerous, before being halted, at which point the ref declared a penalty to Saracens, which they missed.

However, let’s not spoil the script. This was an evening for savouring London Irish on the attack, with Whitworth constantly serving up delightful pop passes, chiefly to a receptive Nick Greenstock, coming through like the Flying Scotsman broaching the Forth Bridge. Half break followed half break, with the cast changing at bewildering speed. First a prop, now a flanker, now a hooker, now a winger. Everyone had a go at some stage. It was genuinely whirlwind stuff.

25 minutes into the half Saracens got their just reward for effort with a penalty. 10-3.

Then the referee gave us yet another creative interpretation of advantage, when Rhys Buckler hurtled over the line to the left of the posts for a nice try, but was recalled for an LI penalty in front of the posts. Eh? A short one saw play move right, where Sarries turned us over, and then we turned them over with one against the head. The pack having lost control of a squirting ball, Kevin Barrett redeemed his forwards by giving the cabaret pass of the evening – an overhand kind of push from neck high.

Further line-camping by LI produced yet another penalty for a grateful ET. 13-3.

Paice at hooker, and Haslett and Thorpe, our flankers, were now becoming highly visible both in take-ups and tackles, which is not to take away from the heavy unseen stuff being handled by the props and number 8, or the thundering contributions of our two locks.
Saracens got another three points on the 35 minute mark, 13-6, which simply gave Haslett the chance to mow down the Saracens 10 who had unwisely taken our kick-off. Several phases and five minutes later, following a frisky run by hooker Paice, playing centre, another penalty gave us 16-6. (ET again)

Sarries don’t like kick-offs. Theirs sailed towards Ollie Hoad, our number 8, who gravely bowed, allowing the ball to sail over his head directly into touch. It was that kind of game.

The second half started with Sarries raiding the LI line quite seriously for a change, and the merry-go-round of substitutions began. Halsey had already come off late in the first half for injury, subbed by O’Brien. Now Armitage came on for Luff and JFK came on for Roche, and play soon reverted to normal, with London Irish occupying the enemy 22, and sending the troops in every direction. After concerted forward pressure at nearly every point on the Saracens line, Paice scored under a melee of bodies. At least we all thought it was Paice, and decided he deserved it even if it wasn’t. 23-6.

Shortly afterwards Johnson and Hoad were subbed by Kevin Burke and Phil Murphy, who was soon to make some trade-mark runs as if to emphasise his readiness for bigger time action. An anonymous player went to right wing and Delon replaced ET at 15. By now play was mainly one way traffic, apart from one strong break from the opposition 11. At one point some neat passing, involving Godzilla (Burke) among others, saw Topsy Ojo put JFK away up the left wing. Nick dotted down but the linesman had flagged for foot in, so that was that.

Our third try, in the left hand corner again, and scored by ‘someone’, was converted to give 30-6. Laidlaw came on for Whitworth at 10, and the sadly anonymous gentleman who subbed the powerful Buckler at tight head was to find himself up in the air a couple of times.

Our fourth try provided just as much theatre as any other. A wonderful rolling maul proceeded majestically up the centre of the pitch to the 22, where Saracens were penalised for pulling down. Laidlaw kicked for the corner, and Flavin, now on for Paice, threw to Burke at 2. Burke simply batted the ball straight back to Flavin, who belly-flopped into the corner. Laidlaw kicked a good goal. 37-6.

Mr Murphy grabbed the Sarries’ kick-off and burst up the middle of the park, where he was brought down by half the Saracens team, well, three or four of them anyway. We now squandered more possession than you could throw a cat at, becoming somewhat overcrowded in sight of the line, over which Matt Cannon swooped for a nice try, sadly unrecognised by the referee. However, Topsy Ojo finally took his opportunity well in that productive left hand corner of ours, and Laidlaw kicked the goal, to end the match on 44-6.

A great result. Well done, lads.