fTo’oala whose departure seemed to be what turned the Sale match against them, and who look not at their sharpest in warm-up, and who appear to have managed to break their fly-half during said warm-up so Joe Ford gets his start?  Should be one-way traffic.  And so it seemed it would be at the start.  Tigers immediately on the attack, quick ball, Mauger straight through the line, go on – stopped just short, quick ball again, out right towards the expectant Geezers in the empty end of the CAT stand, where Hamilton powers through, stretches through as he’s tackled, and grounds it ... no, the ball dribbles forward.  Bottoms.  Still, that was a show of intent, and Tigers are rapidly doing more of the same, moving the ball about, securing remarkably quick ball at the breakdown against a team coached by the estimable Mr B, and Crofty is through – no, just held short, the ball recycled out, out to Tuqiri, he’s in – no, again just short.  Exchange from the row behind me – “Go on Lote, you beauty” ; “ You love Lote don’t you?” ; Yeah, we love Lote.”  So that’s a Whole Lote Love, then.  Tigers have all the possession, all the territory, Mad Dog is on fire, they have the Leeds scrum on toast with Boris Baloo (as we must call him after the Gruffalo-esque character with a large mallet in Ben Herring’s new children’s book who is, according to the programme, based on Stanko) doing particularly good work; and still we can’t score.  Until Allen makes a scything break from 10-metre line to 22,  Gomarsall goes in at the side at the resulting ruck, and Flood  puts over the penalty.  3-0 and the rout has started.   

Only it hasn’t.  Barely have they restarted when there is fluffed handling and a Leeds scrum, which results in a huge shout from the Crumbie and a penalty to Leeds.  Opposite corner, so didn’t see what that was about, but the One-Eyed Crumbie Monster is seething.  Young Ford the Elder lands a fine kick, 3-3.  And it gets worse.  Tigers are moving the ball very nicely up the middle when it flies loose at a ruck, Leeds break through the gap, nicely-timed offloading put the Leeds loosehead almost through, he’s a prop for Chrissake run him down, and fortunately he turns into contact when he could have gone straight, but The Dog has a mad moment in at the side and the ref pings him right in front of the posts, doesn’t just ping him, reaches for the yellow... oh dear.  Bit harsh – I don’t think that was any worse than the Gomars equivalent. 

Anyway, 3-6, man down.  Probably just as well Cockers is on a touchline ban – the swearies would probably be audible all the way round the ground otherwise.   But even down one Dog, the scrum continues to own the opposition, and more Boris Baloo work wins a penalty which evens it up.  And the last 10 minutes or so of the half pass in a haze of frustration.  Tigers pound the Leeds defence, repeatedly mice their scrum so effectively that the ref finally loses patience and brandishes a yellow.   Ruck smack in front of the posts, ball being slowed, Ben Youngs spends altogether too long pointing this out to an uninterested ref before ripping the ball clear and flinging a pass which seems designed to create the resulting knock-on, a promising move is fluffed by a duff pass which Hamilton very cleverly leaves alone as it skitters past his feet, only Matt Smith has run past him expecting the pickup and the ball runs into touch, Youngs makes a dart for the corner, turns back in then flips the ball out to where Matt Smith isn’t. 

And then Crofty doesn’t get up, and when he does, it’s to limp off – ankle?  Gaahhh.  Mind you, the bloke with next to no clothes and a bunch of pink balloons who briefly joined us before sprinting up in the direction of the A&L was quite entertaining.   The second half, though.  Oh yes.  Right from the start, Tigers take possession down the left, spin it out across the Leeds 22 until Parling crashes his way to the line only to be held up.  Still, it’s a 5-metre scrum, and we like those.  The Tigers scrum with Baloo at the helm rumbles inexorably towards the Leeds line until the ref awards the try to Mr Penalty.  13-6.  That was nice.  But what follows is sublime.  Nice work by Ben Kay on halfway, first as scrumhalf at the ruck, then setting it solidly for good ball, then spun to Flood, who shows and goes, stays on his feet in the tcakle, gorgeous flip out the back of the hand to good God it’s Crane, look at him go, he waits just long enough to give it to the Dog who takes a beautiful line, two tacklers bring him down five yards out but he’s already turning to flip it one-handed to Allen, who is IN!  Frickin’ genius.  Flood misses the conversion, “Staunton would have landed that” say the Lote lovers in the row behind.  Whatever. 

18-6, 34 minutes to get two more for the BP, and this is more like it.   More good stuff follows.  Leeds tackle hard, keep the ball moving on their own account, Seru does a lot of what Seru does but gets a good solid Tigers “welcome back” every time, but it’s all unavailing as Tigers turn the screw.  Youngs does a bit of Jekyll and Hyde – after Baloo and his merry men mince another penalty out of the scrum, he taps and ... err... drops it forward.   On the other hand, he makes a terrific break down the left, could make the corner if he trusts his own pace, but puts in a lovely grubber which Allen chases but is grounded by Leeds.  Only the ref says it’s taken back over the line by Leeds, so another luvverly five-metre scrum.  Rumble, rumble, Crane does a Deano off the back but is stopped, decently quick ball goes to Brett Deacon, who crashes, bashes, bounces off the post and over!  

Flood does the extras, 25-6, 20 minutes to score another for BP, and Tuilagi comes on yay!  We have Tu on one wing and Tu on the other, which makes five points, as Tigers have a five-metre lineout on the Crumbie side, Parling takes it as he’s done all day, they maul it, maul it, Leeds keep it out, got to use it, ball spun out left, lovely scissors, Mauger to Tuilagi, who goes straight through the middle, looks like he’s going to make it, no, finally to ground, then Youngs gives it to Flood, who turns, steps, spins off the tackle and is in by the post.  All that effort to stop the man mountain at full tilt, and then they can barely put a hand on Wingnut.  Backy will have to have a word or two.  Flood converts his own try, 32-6. 

Leeds still fight for it, make some breaks, but Tigers are simply too solid now, and ultimately Leeds having to run it ends in more Tigers points as Leeds run it from their 22 only for the ball eventually to go loose at a ruck on halfway and be snatched by – who else but the Dog, who goes straight through, all the way, thank you very much.  And Staunton has the kick, from where Flood missed earlier.  He strokes it – no, positively caresses it – through the posts, so the Lote-lovers in the row behind know their kickers too.   

39-6, then, and a beezer day out.  Boris Baloo was immense.  Tuquiri wasn’t half bad, Allen was better. 

Parling was excellent. 

But man of the match had to be the Dog.  Absolutely everywhere, absolutely bonkers.  Wouldn’t have him any other way. 

And for Leeds?  They defended hard, tried for everything right to the whistle, like you’d expect from a team coached by Backy, they were cute now and again like you’d expect from a team coached by Backy.  I’d like to see them stay up. 

A nod for Lee Blackett – he was everywhere, gave it everything he had, and was still charming after the match despite his evident disappointment.  Class act. 

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