So where did it all go wrong? Because regardless of victory or defeat in this match the wheels had long since fallen off the Saints latest campaign. It’s an infuriatingly tangled ball of string that many of us can’t begin to unravel and to be honest I’m not sure we want to. All the simple shoe worker of Northampton wants is a good game of Rugby on a Saturday afternoon, but sadly this season they have been as rare as rocking horse droppings.

Premiership Champions was not what most had in mind for the Saints at the start of the season but moderate success seemed a viable prospect. Somehow though for the second time in three years the R word re-surfaced to cast its long shadow over the proceedings, raising its dark form higher than ever over a defiant Franklins Gardens. Like the returning Moby Dick intent on smashing the ship from beneath Ahab’s feet. This time there was not going to be a last minute escape act, relegation would have its vengeful way, and justly so.

With only 17 minutes of the match left Mark Robinson dived between the posts to put Saints 25 – 15 ahead, effectively securing the victory for a Saints side who had they shown anything like this form earlier in the season would surely not have been in this sorry mess.

The crowd cheered wildly as the first piece of the jigsaw fell into place. However for the myriad of folk clutching their radios and pressing their earpieces to the sides of their heads the news from Sixways was anything but good. Saints were relying on Saracens to beat Worcester and put an end to a season long nightmare but Sarries had left their copy of the script on the team bus and were apparently finding it hard to improvise. At about the same time as Robinsons try, former Saint Shane Drahm dropped Worcester to a 22 – 7 lead securing their survival and sealing Saints fate.

Victory and defeat all in one simple application, antidote and venom in a single package. Saints could have scored further tries, but the massed banks of supporters who did more than their fair share to make the sixteenth man were cheering a hollow victory.

A victory that looked dangerously beyond them after just 5 minutes of the match as Topsy Ojo  jinked through two tackles and scorched his way to line to put London Irish 7 – 0 up after the conversion. To be fair London Irish were only ever going to perform in one way and with a guaranteed 6^th place in the bag, this match was always going to be an exercise in enjoyment and free flowing Rugby for them.

Chances did present themselves almost immediately after Ojo’s try. A lovely exchange between Jon Clark and Carlos Spencer saw Tupai striding in to the vast open plains only to have his pass knocked forward by a London Irish hand. One wonderfully huge reverse pass from Carlos Spencer also enabled Cohen to break up field as the Saints entered the Irish 22 for the first time.

Spencer was in the thick of it again for the Saints first score as a pass made its way in to Bruce Reihana’s arms and he stepped inside the last defender, successfully converting his own score to tie the game.

A quarter of the match gone and Saints edged into the lead by virtue of a penalty on the 10 metre line, Reihana converting like a natural born kicker. Saints were beginning to motor but suffered a real set back when Flutey took the decision to orchestrate a break from the Irish 22 after quick turnover ball left the Saints missing men out wide. Seilala Mapusua another of those speedy London Irish backs finding his way to the line for the first of two tries. 10 – 12 and Irish pushed hard to break the game winning several successive penalties but failing to capitalise on any.

Half time and the attention returned to those trusty radios, Worcester winning 14 -7! Come on Sarries!

The second half opened with a sprint to the death between Ojo and Cohen, Cohen only just making it to touch down behind his own line for a 22 drop out. Five minutes later and Lamont eases the nervousness after some lovely build up play by the Saints forwards, quick ball eventually forcing Irish to capitulate, Reihana converts the try and a further penalty to advance Saints to a 20 - 12 lead. Still no news from the West Midlands.

London Irish responded promptly but once again failed to make anything of a string of penalties. One such penalty being awarded after Tupai pursued his own unique law enforcement methods. Finally in the last quarter Irish added to their half time score as Labit was penalised for preventing the release of the ball.

At last news from Worcester 19 – 7 and then 22 – 7 up, National Division 1 finally becomes the blunt reality for Saints. The last twenty minutes become numbingly remote, watching a win but feeling only emptiness. The game began to become insignificant and if the first sixty minutes seemed like ten then the last ten seemed like sixty. Like trying to light a fire with damp matches it was unbelievably frustrating, annoyingly, awkwardly uncomfortable. Imagine falling into a massively deep abyss, eventually you don’t care about hitting the bottom, you just want it to happen and you want it to happen quickly, to end that nauseous feeling.

Robinson’s try and Saints’ third under normal circumstances would have been cause for fine celebration had it not been in terms of the season too little, too late. And as if in some strange way fate wanted to emphasise a point London Irish were allowed to round off the final passage of Premiership play in this part of the East Midlands with an expertly executed try under the posts.

Frankly the standard of Rugby this season at Franklins Gardens has been anything but world class and it has been the nature of the defeats that have been so disappointing, along with the apparent failure to take control of our own destiny. In all honesty I suspect a large number of supporters knew this day to be imminent, but like an injection knowing it’s going to happen doesn’t make it hurt any less.