Wrecked dreams?
London Irish at the Rec Match Report
Wrecked dreams?
By OxonRob
April 11 2003
Injuries to James Cockle, Paul Sackey and Darren Edwards made defeat all the more bitter a pill, and for a time it seemed as though Kieron Dawson might be attending the club doctor too. We trust that we will hear soon that they are all fine. Now is not the time to have injuries to key players
Wrecked dreams?
April 11 2003
Injuries to James Cockle, Paul Sackey and Darren Edwards made defeat all the more bitter a pill, and for a time it seemed as though Kieron Dawson might be attending the club doctor too. We trust that we will hear soon that they are all fine. Now is not the time to have injuries to key players
We in the bus travelled in hope, but perhaps not in expectation. Not much singing to speak about, but a lot of mathematics as we tried to calculate all possible scenarios that might await us on our return. In truth, we were probably more tense than the team.
On departure we were just as tense, but quieter and mildly wretched. We debated the reasons for this and that but could not deny that two tries to none is fairly conclusive, even if Mr White had missed a centre-field Bath knock-on in the build-up to the first one. However, since he also missed a blatant second half off-side by most of the Irish backs in front of our posts perhaps we should draw a veil over that.
And just to put paid to any suggestion of moaning, Mr White had a good game, so good that you hardly noticed him. This was underscored by the fact that the first penalty award was after ten minutes, when Sackey was pinged for hanging on.
On arrival, the coach party mounted their new flags and before we could even frighten the bar we (and the flags) were corralled into line for the TV cameras. If we had a starring role before the game no one in the media has said so, but we felt extremely supportive! Our boys were warming up an hour before kick off so we took our new flags along to give them a peek at their heroes. Then we shook hands with lots of bemused Bath supporters and shared commiserations. Kick-off was still a distant prospect.
The low-slung TV lights did not do a great deal for our viewing pleasure, but since they doubtless enabled viewing by the couch-potato millions, who are we to carp? They were, however directly responsible for my having to rely upon Ken E and James of a Thousand Wives for the odd snippet which one had missed in the glare.
Bath started as though they meant to run up 50 points before the orange slices were served, but frightening though they looked, they proved to be full of eastern promise and no final delivery. They also pinched one of our line-outs, and it took us until well into the second half to pinch it back.
Taking the game as a whole, Bath got closer to our line more times than we did to theirs, but, doubtless for the convenience of the TV cameras, a great deal of the match was spent between the 22 metre lines, where two very similar sides played somewhat similar games. Shovel the ball out, take it into contact, hoof it up the field, catch the return, take a little more contact and hoof it back again. Some of the hoofing, from both Catt and Everitt, was outstanding. Some, very sadly, was not. Compared to some of the slices we saw, principally from Horak and Appleford, the two number tens were exemplars of the old Rob Andrew game, however.
In the earlier stages, Bath had most of the possession, and when we got it we gave it back in a spirit of Corinthian generosity. To be fair they did look quite dangerous, but either made a silly mistake or were stopped by tigerish London Irish tackling.
As the match wore on, the Exiles’ possession increased, but our territorial dominance remained limited to that strangely magnetic patch of land between the 22 metre lines, normally around the Bath ten metre line. Further we seldom went. Occasionally we would vary our game a bit and kick the ball to Bath to see what they could do with it, but inevitably we would return, with possession, to that same patch of hallowed turf.
Given the percentage of London Irish possession in the game it was frustrating to see how often our gallant band could not get across the gain line, even after a number of phases. To be blunt, for all that our defence was heroic, even stalwart (with two costly lapses, of which more anon) and our forwards competitive, and for periods somewhat ahead of the Bath pack, we never looked like scoring a try. Well we never did after an early run by Paul Sackey, who then got penned in by three Bath players with no-one in close support from his own side. Is he too quick for us?
How often have we heard that we don’t seem to like scoring tries? If we have a nemesis, this is it.
Bath, on the other hand, DO like scoring tries. Albeit that they were run down every time, most of the convincing breaks came from Bath. Both of their tries, however were scored in strange circumstances. The first, by Kevin Maggs, stemmed from a forward rush under the posts, within a minute of Kieron Dawson running off the park and down the tunnel on 42 minutes, following lengthy attention from the track-suited brethren. None of us saw a replacement come on, and I had the impression therefore that we were a player down when it counted.
Bath’s second try, in the 45th minute was well created by Cooper, the scrum half, from a scrum which wheeled right on Bath’s right hand five yard line around the London Irish 22. From where I sat he seemed to draw Appleford, before passing to the speedy Elvis Seveali’i who scorched along a wide-ish empty path to the corner. Only afterwards did the better-informed tell me that seconds beforehand Edwards had finally retired injured, Kevin Barrett coming in to scrum half, and Tofty coming on. I am told but never noticed that at the time of the try Tofty and Horak were still out on the right wing debating where each should play. If so, we brought this one upon ourselves. I also had not noticed Ryan Strudwick come off with four minutes to go. He would have been the last man to come off had I been calling the shots. Happily for all, I wasn’t.
My MOTM was Mike Horak who popped up anywhere and everywhere, ball in hand and apparently relishing it. He also put in some thunderous tackles, but so did everyone else apart from Conor, and for all I know he may have done so afterwards.
The final comment of this overview has to be from JOATW, who said “Have you noticed that our forwards take the ball on the run, and our backs take it standing still?” Do you know what? He was dead right!
Highlights from my match notes.
FIRST HALF Everitt starts the match, kicking left. The Bath 9 kicks to the ten metre line where Bath steal our first line-out. Now it’s Bath, Bath, Bath. We are not getting much of a look-in. 6 mins. Perry off for blood. 13 mins. Cockle off - for blood? Danaher on, and stays on. 15 mins. Everitt tries a penalty from the halfway line, but the ball dies in front of the bar and is returned to touch opposite Barry’s kicking tee. 19 mins.
Following a great run, Sackey is down. Stays on, looking groggy. For the next five minutes play is scrappy. We cannot get clean ball, Barry is scragged, aerial ping pong follows and then 23 mins. another penalty to Irish on half way again. Barry goes for the corner. We are getting turned over a lot, and being rushed into passing poorly.
The Doc gets a hospital pass and is penalised for holding on. 28 mins. Suddenly we attack and Bath intercept on their 22. Tough luck.
They are called back for a penalty for offside, which Barry slots easily. 0-3. We are looking predictable in attack, quite easy to defend against, really. Some great long touches from Barry. 34 mins. We are now seriously into playing in their half for a change, and attacking all the time. No dice. 36 mins. Penalty in same spot as before. Barry obliges.0-6. 39 mins. Declan penalised for holding on. Barkley has no problem. 3-6. Bath kick off, recover the ball, seem to knock on in the middle of the field, and run left. 42 mins. Concerted Bath attack results in a five metre scrum in the Irish right hand corner. Dawson is down, and runs off. 43 mins. A Bath rush results in a try to Maggs, easily converted by Barkley. 44 mins. Whistle blows for oranges and a rest.
CONCLUSION. We have created and wasted more chances than I can throw a stick at. So have Bath, but it means little when you are one-eyed.
SECOND HALF Barrett is on for Sackey. Catt tries a drop goal which goes left. Barry would have had it. 6 mins. Someone is down and out. It’s Darren Edwards. Not looking a happy bunny, but stays on. We pinch their line-out. Move into the bath half for the first time this half. Our front row shuffle starts, with Hatley coming on for Worsley. Bath penalised for deliberate knock-on, but Barry misses the kick at goal.
Edwards goes down again. Really looks groggy. 15 mins. I have rediscovered the clock and Everitt celebrates by kicking another penalty. 10-9. We live in hope, but not alas in expectation. I cleverly forecast a last-minute drop goal by Barry. Oh what will we do if he goes to Munster?
20 mins. Another penalty to Irish, but on the halfway line. Too far, surely? 10-12.We begin breathing again. 23 mins. Mr White awards a scrum on the Irish 22 for a Bath knock on, ignoring the London Irish backline uniformly offside. Whew! 25 mins. Tindall retires hurt (or exhausted? James and I are emotionally drained by now.) More ping pong, more Bath attacking. Mafeking relieved by a penalty on our 22. Saved by the bell. Everitt is kicking the leather off the ball. Digby looks seriously stuffed, but I suppose we are running out of suitable subs. 30 mins. We do not look like scoring although Barrett does get a nice interception, but is called back for an earlier advantage to Bath. Bath are attacking full time now and first Dawson and then Danaher pull off crunching tackles a la Scott Gibbs. Great defence but awful offence. 32 mins. Bath get a penalty shot. 13-12. Damn! Our line seems slow and flat in attack, leaden footed because of their positioning. If only they’d take the ball at pace. 38mins. Everitt tries a drop. Misses. 42 mins.The siege of Stalingrad. Unless Barry, dear Barry, nice Barry gets the drop goal I have forecast we are sunk. We do not look like scoring. Bath will still be tackling this time tomorrow. 44 mins. Wonderful, saintly Barry does his bit. A drop goal to die for. 13-15. Is there really MORE extra time to play? 45 mins. Their damned right wing has scored what looks like the softest try ever, but travelling at the speed of light. 18-15.
That’s it. End of dream. Good night, sweet prince. Three games to go.
On departure we were just as tense, but quieter and mildly wretched. We debated the reasons for this and that but could not deny that two tries to none is fairly conclusive, even if Mr White had missed a centre-field Bath knock-on in the build-up to the first one. However, since he also missed a blatant second half off-side by most of the Irish backs in front of our posts perhaps we should draw a veil over that.
And just to put paid to any suggestion of moaning, Mr White had a good game, so good that you hardly noticed him. This was underscored by the fact that the first penalty award was after ten minutes, when Sackey was pinged for hanging on.
On arrival, the coach party mounted their new flags and before we could even frighten the bar we (and the flags) were corralled into line for the TV cameras. If we had a starring role before the game no one in the media has said so, but we felt extremely supportive! Our boys were warming up an hour before kick off so we took our new flags along to give them a peek at their heroes. Then we shook hands with lots of bemused Bath supporters and shared commiserations. Kick-off was still a distant prospect.
The low-slung TV lights did not do a great deal for our viewing pleasure, but since they doubtless enabled viewing by the couch-potato millions, who are we to carp? They were, however directly responsible for my having to rely upon Ken E and James of a Thousand Wives for the odd snippet which one had missed in the glare.
Bath started as though they meant to run up 50 points before the orange slices were served, but frightening though they looked, they proved to be full of eastern promise and no final delivery. They also pinched one of our line-outs, and it took us until well into the second half to pinch it back.
Taking the game as a whole, Bath got closer to our line more times than we did to theirs, but, doubtless for the convenience of the TV cameras, a great deal of the match was spent between the 22 metre lines, where two very similar sides played somewhat similar games. Shovel the ball out, take it into contact, hoof it up the field, catch the return, take a little more contact and hoof it back again. Some of the hoofing, from both Catt and Everitt, was outstanding. Some, very sadly, was not. Compared to some of the slices we saw, principally from Horak and Appleford, the two number tens were exemplars of the old Rob Andrew game, however.
In the earlier stages, Bath had most of the possession, and when we got it we gave it back in a spirit of Corinthian generosity. To be fair they did look quite dangerous, but either made a silly mistake or were stopped by tigerish London Irish tackling.
As the match wore on, the Exiles’ possession increased, but our territorial dominance remained limited to that strangely magnetic patch of land between the 22 metre lines, normally around the Bath ten metre line. Further we seldom went. Occasionally we would vary our game a bit and kick the ball to Bath to see what they could do with it, but inevitably we would return, with possession, to that same patch of hallowed turf.
Given the percentage of London Irish possession in the game it was frustrating to see how often our gallant band could not get across the gain line, even after a number of phases. To be blunt, for all that our defence was heroic, even stalwart (with two costly lapses, of which more anon) and our forwards competitive, and for periods somewhat ahead of the Bath pack, we never looked like scoring a try. Well we never did after an early run by Paul Sackey, who then got penned in by three Bath players with no-one in close support from his own side. Is he too quick for us?
How often have we heard that we don’t seem to like scoring tries? If we have a nemesis, this is it.
Bath, on the other hand, DO like scoring tries. Albeit that they were run down every time, most of the convincing breaks came from Bath. Both of their tries, however were scored in strange circumstances. The first, by Kevin Maggs, stemmed from a forward rush under the posts, within a minute of Kieron Dawson running off the park and down the tunnel on 42 minutes, following lengthy attention from the track-suited brethren. None of us saw a replacement come on, and I had the impression therefore that we were a player down when it counted.
Bath’s second try, in the 45th minute was well created by Cooper, the scrum half, from a scrum which wheeled right on Bath’s right hand five yard line around the London Irish 22. From where I sat he seemed to draw Appleford, before passing to the speedy Elvis Seveali’i who scorched along a wide-ish empty path to the corner. Only afterwards did the better-informed tell me that seconds beforehand Edwards had finally retired injured, Kevin Barrett coming in to scrum half, and Tofty coming on. I am told but never noticed that at the time of the try Tofty and Horak were still out on the right wing debating where each should play. If so, we brought this one upon ourselves. I also had not noticed Ryan Strudwick come off with four minutes to go. He would have been the last man to come off had I been calling the shots. Happily for all, I wasn’t.
My MOTM was Mike Horak who popped up anywhere and everywhere, ball in hand and apparently relishing it. He also put in some thunderous tackles, but so did everyone else apart from Conor, and for all I know he may have done so afterwards.
The final comment of this overview has to be from JOATW, who said “Have you noticed that our forwards take the ball on the run, and our backs take it standing still?” Do you know what? He was dead right!
Highlights from my match notes.
FIRST HALF Everitt starts the match, kicking left. The Bath 9 kicks to the ten metre line where Bath steal our first line-out. Now it’s Bath, Bath, Bath. We are not getting much of a look-in. 6 mins. Perry off for blood. 13 mins. Cockle off - for blood? Danaher on, and stays on. 15 mins. Everitt tries a penalty from the halfway line, but the ball dies in front of the bar and is returned to touch opposite Barry’s kicking tee. 19 mins.
Following a great run, Sackey is down. Stays on, looking groggy. For the next five minutes play is scrappy. We cannot get clean ball, Barry is scragged, aerial ping pong follows and then 23 mins. another penalty to Irish on half way again. Barry goes for the corner. We are getting turned over a lot, and being rushed into passing poorly.
The Doc gets a hospital pass and is penalised for holding on. 28 mins. Suddenly we attack and Bath intercept on their 22. Tough luck.
They are called back for a penalty for offside, which Barry slots easily. 0-3. We are looking predictable in attack, quite easy to defend against, really. Some great long touches from Barry. 34 mins. We are now seriously into playing in their half for a change, and attacking all the time. No dice. 36 mins. Penalty in same spot as before. Barry obliges.0-6. 39 mins. Declan penalised for holding on. Barkley has no problem. 3-6. Bath kick off, recover the ball, seem to knock on in the middle of the field, and run left. 42 mins. Concerted Bath attack results in a five metre scrum in the Irish right hand corner. Dawson is down, and runs off. 43 mins. A Bath rush results in a try to Maggs, easily converted by Barkley. 44 mins. Whistle blows for oranges and a rest.
CONCLUSION. We have created and wasted more chances than I can throw a stick at. So have Bath, but it means little when you are one-eyed.
SECOND HALF Barrett is on for Sackey. Catt tries a drop goal which goes left. Barry would have had it. 6 mins. Someone is down and out. It’s Darren Edwards. Not looking a happy bunny, but stays on. We pinch their line-out. Move into the bath half for the first time this half. Our front row shuffle starts, with Hatley coming on for Worsley. Bath penalised for deliberate knock-on, but Barry misses the kick at goal.
Edwards goes down again. Really looks groggy. 15 mins. I have rediscovered the clock and Everitt celebrates by kicking another penalty. 10-9. We live in hope, but not alas in expectation. I cleverly forecast a last-minute drop goal by Barry. Oh what will we do if he goes to Munster?
20 mins. Another penalty to Irish, but on the halfway line. Too far, surely? 10-12.We begin breathing again. 23 mins. Mr White awards a scrum on the Irish 22 for a Bath knock on, ignoring the London Irish backline uniformly offside. Whew! 25 mins. Tindall retires hurt (or exhausted? James and I are emotionally drained by now.) More ping pong, more Bath attacking. Mafeking relieved by a penalty on our 22. Saved by the bell. Everitt is kicking the leather off the ball. Digby looks seriously stuffed, but I suppose we are running out of suitable subs. 30 mins. We do not look like scoring although Barrett does get a nice interception, but is called back for an earlier advantage to Bath. Bath are attacking full time now and first Dawson and then Danaher pull off crunching tackles a la Scott Gibbs. Great defence but awful offence. 32 mins. Bath get a penalty shot. 13-12. Damn! Our line seems slow and flat in attack, leaden footed because of their positioning. If only they’d take the ball at pace. 38mins. Everitt tries a drop. Misses. 42 mins.The siege of Stalingrad. Unless Barry, dear Barry, nice Barry gets the drop goal I have forecast we are sunk. We do not look like scoring. Bath will still be tackling this time tomorrow. 44 mins. Wonderful, saintly Barry does his bit. A drop goal to die for. 13-15. Is there really MORE extra time to play? 45 mins. Their damned right wing has scored what looks like the softest try ever, but travelling at the speed of light. 18-15.
That’s it. End of dream. Good night, sweet prince. Three games to go.
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