Out-Toftied!

Nor have I, so if I err occasionally, please put it down to a ground level seat in the corner, with a view restricted by frequent passers-by. Real journalists surely don’t suffer so?

An exciting match? Yes, it was, but the excitement of the game was as nothing compared to the ending. With, to our minds, no playing time left, Saints’ left wing, Wylie Human, ex-Bath, dived into the left corner, taking the scores to 20-21. The result surely hung on the conversion.

The kicker set up the ball, stepped back – and nearly fell over the advertising hoarding. He moved the hoarding, addressed the ball anew, and 11,749 hearts stopped beating. It flew towards the posts, then veered away. The touch judges’ flags stayed down, and London Irish supporters breathed a sigh of relief. Shane Drahm looked devastated, for although it was over by the touchline, both he and we knew that Paul Grayson would have kicked it. In an act of great largesse, Alan Solomons had substituted Drahm for Grayson in the 85th minute.

In all truth, had that conversion been good, and had the final whistle then been blown, London Irish could have had little complaint. Although in the lead throughout, and despite Mapletoft having scored two tries to none (until Human’s) London Irish had looked anything but secure. We played the bulk of the game in our own half, thereby allowing Grayson and Drahm sufficient kickable penalties to advance the Saints score inexorably towards our own.

The Exiles won the battle of the line-out, it is true, and our rush defence drove the Saints back behind the gain line time and again. However, we allowed Saints a startling amount of possession, and had it not been for Saintly generosity and our admirably aggressive defence, their possession of the ball could have cost us dear. As it was, two Irish tacklers were employed in a large number of tackles, and snuffed out attack after attack. Sadly, this seldom gave us the ball, but it always bought time for re-positioning of Hadrian’ Wall.

The final score was luck of the Irish, perhaps, but there have been plenty of games when the rub of the green went the other way.

A quick summary

Our defence was awesome, for all 99 minutes. No one flinched. We took (or rather, Tofty took) some of our chances, and Saints did not take theirs. However, we were not really dominant in this match and survived rather than won it through pressure. We were a long way from rubbish, however, for Saints are not nearly as poor as the Press and their ZP position had suggested. They would have won against many sides, and that says something for our defence. For that alone we deserved the result.

Home-made Stats

There were 20 line outs in the first half, 12 of them in favour of Saints, of which we won six. However, they pinched two of our eight. Honours were more even in the second half, where each side pinched two opposition line outs, and Saints were awarded 11 to our six.

Turnovers. Honours roughly even, with four to Saints, of which three were in the first half. London Irish managed six, four of them in the first half.

Penalties. in the first half, it’s three to Saints and four to Irish. However, Saints were given six in the second half, of which they attempted and kicked three between the posts. Irish were awarded one penalty in the second half. Tells us something.

Scrums. Saints were awarded ten scrums, and London Irish ten. However 13 of these scrums were in the second half, when pressure was creating errors on both sides.

A little detail

I warn you, this is (very nearly) a verbatim commentary, so it’s a bit long. However, for those not at the match it may serve to explain our humility in victory, and the presumed quantity of visits to the heart clinic on our return.

Immediately before the match started there was a well-observed silence to honour fallen war dead on this, the eve of Remembrance Sunday - a Northampton tradition of particular poignancy as they simultaneously honour former Saints and England captain Edgar Mobbs, killed at Passchendale in 1917.

London Irish kick off towards the South-east, the Tetley Stand. The Saints right wing (Rudd) kicks out on the Saints ten metre line. We win the line out, and attack up the left, but get turned over, and Reihana finds touch on our 22. We take at the tail, but somewhat messily, and are forced back towards our line where Stan the Man belts it up and out over our left 22. Northampton manage to win their line out, but in our turn we turn over their ball, and Catty finds touch on half way. This time we nick their line out. Catty kicks to Reihana inside the Saints 22. He puts up a high one, well taken by Hodgson, whom Reihana then high tackles. He apologises. With five minutes gone Tofty kicks the penalty from near half way. 0-3.

Virtually from the kick off Delon finds touch, we nick their line out yet again, and when Stan is tackled we get another penalty on their 22. Tofty shades his eyes against the sun, and again obliges. 0-6 with seven minutes gone, but it’s not quite as easy as it sounds.

After 15 minutes Tony Stanger brings our subs down to our corner, to uniform cheers. There isn’t yet a lot else to enthuse about. They find touch. We find touch. We all find touch together. They rush at us. We rush at them. Ping. No pattern yet, although the Saints back row look lively and dangerous, as do Hyndman in the centre and Reihana at full back.

O’Donoghue replaces a Saints lock (Browne?) and London Irish get another penalty following a ruck. Nick the Ball is under at least verbal assault from some Saints players. Tofty does the business on 18 minutes, and it’s 0-9. Our bodhrans are going nineteen to the dozen, as are a number of green-sounding kazoos. The Exiles supporters have been making themselves heard throughout, in contrast to their opposite numbers who have only managed two creaky “Oh when the Saints” so far.

The next four minutes bring constant Saints pressure, resulting in a penalty in front of our posts on 22 minutes. Grayson converts. 3-9. Spreaders has a word with Rob Hardwick.

Following some mutual thud and blunder, a line out on our 22, pinched by the Saints 7, results in a Grayson kick ahead being charged down and then hoofed ahead by Catt, who follows up and takes it on the full with 20 metres to go. Catty runs wide, pursued by tacklers, but passes inside to the supporting Tofty, who squirms through two tacklers to dot down a little less than half way in towards the posts, right under the noses of the travelling LI support. Bliss it is to wear green. It seems as though, despite play being evenly distributed between the sides, or even slightly in favour of Saints, we can do no wrong today. Dead on 27 minutes Tofty kicks the conversion. 3-16.

The kick off sees more lively Northampton play, as they attack all over. Mafeking is relieved by the LI jumper at 4 in a defensive line out, and Tofty gets a lucky touch, the ball bouncing over the head of the Saints’ Mr Human who was ready to receive it. Saints throw to the front man in their line out, as they do several times during the game, and we endure another five minutes of play up the other end. Saints look as though they have gone over, but they must have been short, for Spreaders awards a penalty in front. 6-16 and 40 minutes played

The last five minutes of the half are all Northampton, and Reihana and Hyndman in particular are attacking with verve. However, Catty’s line kicking is sublime, and this keeps them somewhat at bay.

HALF TIME 6-16

Big Bob spills the kick off, and this seems to spark Saints into their most effective period yet. Our guys are tackling like heroes, and driving play behind the gain line, but Saints retain possession, and an awkward kick to our right corner is finger-tipped into touch by Hodgson. Saints drive off the back of the line out, and go over in a heap. Mr Spreadbury is unconvinced, and orders a scrum to Saints. The ball is spun wide to Rudd, their right wing, who is over in the Saints right corner – surely? Oh no he isn’t. An amazing and heavy double tackle by Hodgson and Staniforth clatters Rudd into touch, right against the corner flag. Hodgson stays down, having hurt his shoulder, and is replaced by Edwards, who chips the line out take provided by Bob at the back. Rudd brings it back up, but we are at least a few yards forward from where we were!

Only five minutes have gone! Can we survive? Doubt creeps in.

Erratic ball from an LI scrum persuades Digby to chip again, and Blowers drives back as far as Bob who nails him. However Saints still have the ball, and within seconds it seems, have a penalty for “something.” No idea what. Grayson kicks it. 9-16, and it’s all Saints. Nine minutes gone. Oo-er!

After 13 minutes Catty relieves unrelenting pressure by kicking a penalty to touch, but we are still inside our ten metre line. JFK takes our line out ball. Catty finds another touch. Bob nicks their throw, Digby goes blind and Delon grubbers through but finds touch. They find touch on the other side, Bob takes it, Digby chips again, and Saints run it back across the park. We are penalised and Grayson kicks the goal. 12-16. Following the kick off, Horak goes down and is led off, replaced by Nils Mordt on the stroke of 20 minutes. Tofty moves to full back. Time, and our lead, are ebbing away.

Saints continue wheeling our scrums, continue attacking and being mown down, and kicking to the rear where Tofty and Murph rule. Our big No 8 likes running the ball back, a la Sheasby. On 23 minutes Delon burns Human and makes good ground, before being buried. One minute later, there is a Saints man on the deck (Hyndman?) and there he remains for a full five minutes as concerned medics summon a stretcher and carefully remove him to a warmer place. Tofty goes to the sidelines and chats with Paul Hull, as Barry Everitt stands by, stripped for action. However, Tofty stays on and Barry retires to the bench.

Following the re-start, hidden from me, Staniforth seemed nearly to get over the line, and we look threatening. A defensive penalty to Saints is sliced, and after the line out Dec Danaher appeared to push a huge rolling Saints maul sideways into touch. Yes, an optical illusion, but I was happy to believe my eyes!

James Van der Walt comes on for David Paice at hooker on 32 minutes, and here it is fair to say that Paicey had been right up there with the big boys throughout. A good game in tight and loose, and only one poor throw that I could see. Definitely a man with a future. However, our newcomer managed to have his first throw, to Kennedy, interrupted by an intruding Saintly arm.

There now followed a period of LI pressure. Stan catches a Saints chip ahead, and wriggles clear of tacklers before setting up a ruck. Bish and Murph drive possession over the half way line, where Dec takes it on. The rucked ball goes right, to Catt, who sends a miss pass to Kennedy, now at outer centre. He gallops away, and with a tad more confidence in himself, might have made it. So might his support, but he goes to ground instead of giving them the pill. Big Bob takes it up, and as usual three people are needed to bring him down. The bal passes quickly along a somewhat crabbing line to Delon who runs it up, going into touch just short of the tryline.

On 36 minutes O’Strudders comes on for Bob, and we go over the Saints tryline in a heap of our own. No score. Scrum 5 to Irish. We go left, and Tofty goes through the gap and over the line like an electric eel. It’s all too much for him, though, and he misses the conversion. How important that miss will be we will shortly discover. 12-21. 38 minutes on the clock.

Saints supporters are now filing past us, on the way to an early bath. We sing “Cheerio, cheerio, cheerio” to them, and they wave back, smiling! Funny folk!

Bang on 40 minutes we are penalised for a scrummage offence, and Grayson takes his last kick at goal before going off. 16-21, and it’s anyone’s game. A few minutes later we are on the attack again, and Digby, Tofty and Nils combine to send Staniforth tearing up the right. The ball is over the Northampton 22, and gets to Lord Mapletoft. A hat-trick? Not on your life. Saints rip the ball from his hands and attack down the right. A few moments later Grayson kicks ahead to our 22, where Tofty dives on the ball as it hits the deck – and knocks on!

From the scrum Saints go stark staring mad, hurling themselves at the Exiles defence from all angles, but, ominously, retaining possession as they get dumped. In the midst of this mayhem, after v45 minutes, and perhaps somewhat unfairly, Barry finally comes on for Tofty, and Catty moves to full back. Barry does the decent thing, taking his first pass on the line, and finding a good touch on his right. However, eventually, the inevitable happens. The ball goes left to Human on the Saints wing, and our cover is still elsewhere. Human dives into the corner. 20-21. The kick misses. 47 minutes on the clock. How much longer, for heaven’s sake?

It soon becomes clear that Saints have decided to run everything.

In the 50th minute of the half Wheatley comes on for Rob Hardwick, and we get a scrum to celebrate his arrival at his less than favourite tight head. Catt kicks deep for the corner, and Saints run it back from their own line, making it to half way. Oh please, let us not lose to a drop goal in the dying seconds! However we turn over their possession, only to be dispossessed shortly afterwards, by a penalty to Saints, in front of their posts. A second penalty to Saints, on their ten metre line is taken as a short one. Robinson and Krige combine to get the ball to our ten metre line, Reihana comes into the line and they try everything except a long distance drop goal.

Fittingly, Nick Kennedy makes the last tackle of the game, on 54 minutes, and we can retire to the Rodber Bar, where good humour can always be found. Neil Hatley pops his head round from the players’ tea to report that both Hodgson and Horak have survived with no bones broken, and that the Saints player stretchered off had also survived intact. So that’s alright, then! Conor O’Shea, recognising medical emergency when he saw it, later visited the supporters’ coach, to wish us safe home.

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