Northampton Saints
News Saints pip Irish at the post Saints 24 v Irish 22
By Dominic Newbould
January 2 2010
Phew… Just-in-time Saints notch up another win Another episode of Hergé’s Adventures of Tin Tin… Dominic Newbould writes from the front line at Franklin’s gardens
Guinness Premiership Round 12
Northampton Saints v London Irish
Saturday January 2nd, Franklin's Gardens K.O. 3pm
Finger-chewin', head-splittin', nerve-shatterin', agonising... defeat?
Never was such expectation and desire so nearly and cruelly dashed, as Saints collided with the Nomads from near London. Let us hope you were not one of the handful of spectators who left before the final, glorious flourish of Flash. Oh ye of little faith.
As usual, we travelled to the game with an excess of hope and anticipation, believing that our home record at Fortress Franklin's, and our recent successes against London-ish, would augur well for a close but deserved victory. All we had to do was execute the gameplan: - hit the tackles, recycle ball quickly and nail the chances. That way, we would gain ground, threaten with the ball in hand and keep the score ticking along.
And we had to manage the referee...
To win, we would also need a well-organised and resolute defence, an ‘oomph' mentality at the breakdown (à la Wuss) and some slick probing around the fringes by a clever outside-half. Not to mention a points machine to scoop up the pens and cons...
The way to beat London-ish, thought the experts, would be to make them play from deep, very deep, preferably the whole game in their own 22. But the opposition didn't read the script and they made it very hard for the men in green, black and gold.
First, they positioned Kennedy just over the 10-metre line, so that Smyler's short kick-offs and restarts would be nullified. Next, they sent bombs at the back three all afternoon. High balls rained down on Foden, Flash and Digger until they began to show frailty under the aerial bombardment. At least Flash had the wit to send the ball back with interest, a hitherto rarely spotted talent.
The many and multifarious transgressions at the breakdown were largely ignored by an indulgent referee: how many times can a whistler wag his finger and threaten last chances without actually sin-binning anyone? It is a source of complete amazement to me that all 30 players remained on the pitch until the traditional flurry of replacements appeared like unwelcome ghosts at the end of the feast. So many niggles and nudges went unpunished, except by the trumpeter who wittily played the theme from Rocky after one bout of fisticuffs.
Oh, the referee spotted every knock-on and blew on his whistle all afternoon, like a love-sick thrush. And the Exiles' tiresome trumpet resonated around the ground like some abandoned and flatulent refrain in a phone box. But still the near-Londoners flew over the ball and blocked, obstructed and battered as only the Caseys or S. Armitages of this world know how. And the familiar thighs of John Rudd thundered down the right wing, with his opposite number (Digger) bouncing off him as if trying to emulate an Underwood against a Lomu.
The first half was tense and almost tedious, with its positional kicks and penalties. Saints had targeted the London-ish lineout and stole a couple of early throws, with Kruger and Lawes showing great entrepreneurial flair. The scrum was another matter. With the front rows nullifying each other, it was left to the flankers to impose some order on affairs, and it was here that the trio of Dowson, Lawes and Wilson excelled.
Nevertheless, it was Saints who were behind at half-time, although they should have scored after a period of pressure near the line was mysteriously ended when the ball popped out of the ruck by its own volition (or an illegal hand) and London-ish were able to clear.
We took our seats after the interval confident that Jim would have worked his half-time magic and injected some creative thinking to break the stalemate. We were not disappointed!
Tiny Tonga'uiha, on his hundredth appearance for Saints, was direct and purposeful as ever, breaking out of the loose and gaining ground with his long and loping stride. Phil Dowson led by example, showing his team-mates that restarts could be won and Steffon Armitage could be flattened. It was Dowson's break from a stolen lineout that led to a penalty. Saints took the attacking option and kicked to the corner. A mighty charge saw the try scored and it was Dowson who emerged from the pile-up holding the ball triumphantly.
But Saints would try that option once too often and the third time led to a laborious passing move that was intercepted by Hewat, who had too much gas and guile for the pursuing Diggin. Penalties were exchanged and then a smart drop-goal by Malone took London-ish 8 points clear with little time to go.
The next penalty option was missed, but Geraghty, on for a subdued Myler, was given another chance and soon afterwards set up the finale with a successful kick. 5 points behind; 5 minutes left on the clock.
Could we win again at the death, as we have so many times this season? Or would we contrive to snatch defeat from the eager jaws of victory, with too many errors and misplaced passes? Would we see another dash of genius by Flash? Would Air Ben 2 charm the birds off the tree (as he managed with Una Healy)?
Ultimately, after so many mistakes by Saints, it was a costly error from an over-cooked Irish clearance, which Foden made sure ran over the dead-ball line. This gave Saints the final platform and Tin Tin the opportunity to turn up his already retroussé nose at his former team-mates. It was his pass to Ashton, juggled and so nearly fumbled, but regathered by the Flashy One, and then grounded. At least four of Ashton's colleagues made sure it was touched down. And Mr Davey raised his arm aloft, in salute, in recognition, in relief!
And if you don't believe it was grounded, look at the score.
Try, 79 minutes, Ashton.
And conversion, 80 minutes, Geraghty.
As I said, phew, and phew some more.
Northampton Saints 24 London-ish 22
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No alcohol for January. I'm a dryathlete in aid of cancer research.
Dryathlon
Dom is second from the right, three rows in front of the coaches' and press' bench...
ClaireJ
RedHatPhoto.com review of 2015 photos here...
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Says it all really.
I always enjoy my visits to Franklin's gardens although one day I would like to actually see my team win
Home supporters welcoming and friendly as ever I have to forgive a hint of smugness post match, I will put it down to thinly diguised relief.
Looking forward to welcoming you for the return leg where "the Exiles' tiresome trumpet will again resonate around the ground like some abandoned and flatulent refrain"
Quote:Thoughts from the game today
My first visit to FG yesterday........... and I enjoyed it, despite the result. Great ground, sporting and good humoured Saints fans around us in the South west Corner and it brought back to me just how much I (still) hate reserved seating in the East Stand at the Mad Stad.
I think the best team on the day won, Wavey Davey was his usual inconsistent self (to both sides) and I'm annoyed that we let Saints grab the points at the death.
My supporters moment of the match goes to the LI fans in the row immediately behind me and the Saints fans immediately to my right who entered into a friendly "battle of the chants".
It started with - "I'd rather be a Paddy than a Saint",
followed by - "I'd rather be a landlord than a tenant",
counter attacked with - "I'd rather be in second than in third" (OK, at the time we were still winning),
but skillfully finished off with - "I'd rather play on Saturday than on Sunday".
Absolutely priceless and the perfect example of how rugby fans, despite the rivalry can still find time to laugh at and with each other.
I'll be back next year.
Welcome and fair-minded. Thanks Phil.
Saint til I die
03/01/2010 13:27
At one maul he was struggling to make any impact, so in an attempt to reach the ball carrier at the back he jumped up and clung on to a Saintsman at which point the rest of the Saints pack drove under, stood up and proceeded to carry Steffon along like pallbearers. Penalty to Saints.
As for the trumpeter, we were sat quite close to him and whilst he may have annoyed a few he was good humoured and IMHO added to the atmosphere.
At least he played a tune which is a darned sight more than the horn blowers of Bath and Sorries.
Was also good that we didn't mention Delon's petulence at the end. He looked devastated, poor lad. Can't wait until the 6N squad is announced...
Many thanks!
If you don't agree maybe it was the position of the away support!
Hopefully by game 22 we will both have home semis and can meet again in the final!
Faugh-a-Ballagh!
"Our prayer is 'God save Ireland' and pour blessings on her name!"
Vestigia Nulla Retrorsum
–noun
4. an opening through which something is ejected or discharged.
5. Also called vomitorium. an opening, as in a stadium or theater, permitting large numbers of people to enter or leave.
Quote:Shaggy tweets
Northampton Irish belting game lawes awesome at 6 Irish defence like wild dogs
Do you think the comment about "wild dogs" is admiring or censorious...?
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