Leave house in good time, forgot tickets, back to house and surprised spouse who thought she was rid of us for the day, now no longer in good time, make train with minutes to spare.  Realise we have forgotten the shirt-signing pen.  @rse.  Will have to buy one at Leicester station.  Settle down, relax a bit, aaahhh, large fella in Tigers shirt, and I mean large, like Castro-sized only with substantial extra padding, goes by, and Geezer Junior II announces at the top of his voice, “Ahaa, there’s a fat man!”, while I look fixedly out of the window and pretend he’s not mine despite the giveaway matching Deano-era Goldstar shirts. 

Arrival at Leicester, magic pen duly purchased, take up usual position at front of terrace five metres in from A&L tryline.  Swelter, swelter – this is going to be heatstroke territory for the pack out there.   Watch the warm-ups for body language, they look up for it, Harry looks so pumped up he might explode, Tom V looks sharp and Julian looks mean.   

The crowd are up for this too – stomp, stomp, stomp and a great roar for the Tigers as they take the field.  Come on, come on, let’s have an early score.  And we do, only it goes the wrong way, with Quins winning their own start, setting up decent possession, the tackles are not as decisive as they might be, but keeping them at bay, through a prodigious number of phases, maybe we can dry them up here, but suddenly Malone does a grubber through from about 10 yards out, no-one seems to react except Quins fullback Brown, and that’s a soft score conceded. 

Oh God, this is like Leeds again, only Quins are stronger than Leeds.  Quins fans complain about Malone’s kicking, so maybe he’ll miss the extras, even though it’s right in front of the posts…. No.  Bottoms.  7-0 down after about 3 minutes.   We need to get back in this, and fast. 

But what happens is almost the opposite.  Strettle breaks the line from Quins’ 22, and takes it to halfway before feeding Skinner, who looks clear all the way to the posts, but there’s a chase on – Harry, go on Harry, go on – Harry dives for the tackle with Skinner feet from the line, gets his ankles, brings him crashing, the ball spills.  What a tackle – what an escape. 

Come on, make that a turning point.   And with less than 10 minutes gone, Tigers get some possession at the Quins end courtesy of some nice distance on a penalty to touch, and start to work the phases themselves in front of the Crumbie, really good pressure, is that Ben Herring on the  wing in acres of space, can’t believe no-one’s seen him, Harry has, long pass out and the unlikely winger is over in the corner.  Can Goodey slot the extras?  Nooo – just dragged across the face. 

Still, that’s more like it, the crowd making lots of noise, let’s have more.   And there is more – after a decent penalty to touch (nice to see Mr Barnes starting to spot some of the dodgy dealings that Quins seem, from the perspective of Planet Terrace, to be getting away with), solid possession ultimately sees Geordan run a beautiful line, drawing the cover before a lovely pass to Tom Varndell, who has a one-on-one with Brown and leaves him flailing in his wake before racing in from 15, 20 yards.  Hoo hoo!  Now we’re talking. 

This time, conversion from the same place, no mistake, and it’s 12-7 Tigers.    Now we should start burying them; but we’re suckered by Care breaking round the ruck, and he finds Skinner in support, and this time there’s no-one able to get to him before he touches down right under the bleedin’ posts. Head in hands time, and Malone makes it worse by continuing not to be hopeless at kicking with the conversion.  Only 12-14, though, come on, we have the power, and it looks like we fully intend to use it, with the Quins front row being minced as a series of scrums are employed to drive them over – only the reason it’s a series is that the ref keeps giving penalties but not really stamping any authority. 

There should be a card soon, surely, where’s the card, did you leave them at home, gaaaahhh!!!  This is what being on the terrace does to you.  Still, at least I haven’t started swearing.  Quins weather that storm, and the ref is the biggest villain since Lol The Bald.  

Keep it going, Tigers – and Mauger makes a storming break out of Tigers 22, just like the one he did at the Stoop, and Geordan takes it up, draws the cover, beautiful, Tom’s got the overlap, he’s silhouetted against the sunlight, what a great view, aaarrrgghh, the pass is unworthy and he drops it in silhouette.  Head in hands again. 

Will we never bury these troublesome jester types?   Three minutes or so later, looking promising in the Quins 22, pressure must yield something, what it yields is a puzzling decision for Mauger to try a drop goal that never looks like going over.  @rse. 

All these chances and still two points adrift.  And then finally Mr B remembers where he put the cards and pulls out a yellow one for Robshaw for doing what the single Terrace Eye has seen him doing all half.  Excellent, let’s have the three to go ahead and then have ‘em with the man advantage. 

But no, no, NOOOO!!!! Goodey fluffs the kick.  We could have, should have, been qualified for the Heiny by now.   And it only gets worse, as the ball squirts loose from a ruck where Terrace Vision spotted Quins holding on and we should have had a penalty,  Quins wing Williams hacks through and the reactions look slow from Tigers, he’s way ahead of Johne to touch down, by the posts again, and so Malone has three kicks from three. 

Still, we get back up in the Quins half and win a penalty, right on half-time, have to take the three, no time for anything else, and GAAAHHHH!! It’s missed again. 

So it’s half-time, 9 points down at 21-12.  Awful.  Not even the losing bonus.  Better be the mother of all half-time talks. 

There’s a presentation and very warm and very well-deserved applause for Matt Cornwell for his work for the Matt Hampson Trust – star man – and maybe that half-time talk was the searing business, as Tigers come out looking like they mean it.

The ball moves along to Herring, who does an amazing thing that BO’D wouldn’t be ashamed of, looping the ball over his head out to Johne Murphy, who’s fumbled it, no, he’s got, it no, yes, what a piece of juggling, there’s space, down here in the corner right under our noses, Johne, YEEESSS!!!  Back in it. 

Difficult conversion, not slotted, but come on Tigers – only four points in it!   About 8 minutes later, a penalty looks like it’ll be back to 7 points in it, but no – a bit of a break as Malone starts maybe to prove his Quins doubters right and misses it. 

And then the luckiest of escapes as Williams has the overlap, but this time he puts the pass down.  And then another penalty, another botch by Malone.  God, we’re riding our luck here – they could have buried us by now.   And on the hour, maybe they have done, with Malone seeing Williams with half of Leicestershire’s worth of space to run into, a nicely weighted crossfield kick which Williams makes no mistake with this time, in and near enough to the posts for Malone not to have any trouble with the conversion.  28-17, this looks bad, bad, bad. 

And even worse as, for the first time in the match, you can hear chants of “Har-le-quins”.  Well, at least we can drown them out if nothing else, and the crowd are really piling on the noise. 

A scrum is won in the Quins 22, and the noise goes up another notch, the scrum is a beauty, rolling forward, wheeling round, and straight out of the Deano manual, Jordan takes the ball from the back and drives over, almost like the noise pushed him over, YOU BEAUTY!!! 

Easy conversion, and we’re within four again, 12 or 13 minutes to go, we can do this, TIII-GERS, TIII-GERS, TII-GERS, and the players seem to respond to the noise, driving forward, always forward, Quins are defending with desperation, we have to score, but it never quite gets there, keep the noise up, this is awesome. 

Brown is down more than once, is he milking it, some of the terrace wits think so, “Does it hurt, Sir, does it hurt at Welford Road”, but actually, he looks as though there has been impaction of groonies by something unyielding, he has every right to look pained. 

Beautiful kick by Geordan, turns Brown, bounces to touch five yards from the line, Brown collects, Tom is there to stop the quick one, but what’s Brown done – moved back upfield probably four, five yards, you little …. TJ arrives and marks it where Brown is, howls of terrace outrage, and he turns and grins.  Cheeky little so-and-so – you have to admire his style, out of the Healey manual, that one.   And then a penalty!  Arms in the air, over here, Goodey, over me head son, come on, we’ve got their pack on the run, lineout, come on, what are you dithering about, and Cozza goes over to Cockers on the touchline, there’s some animated discussion, what was all that about, and Cozza comes back and indicates the posts, WHAATTT??? 

Oh well. 8 to go, three here will put us within a point, maybe the thinking is to do that and press for three more and then play it down.  So here’s the kick, ooohhh noooo….  What a waste.   

The gutted silence doesn’t last long, the noise is now at a level where you can feel it like a physical force, this is a wall of sound worthy of Phil Spector, Tigers are back, throwing everything at them, but they still can’t get that last break, but Tom has it, one-on-one, can he do it, you’ve got the pace Tom, he kicks through, it’s a peach, sits up for him, he burns off the despairing chase, picks it off and he’s OVER!!!!  

The noise is phenomenal, pick up my two lovely boys and jig around, ooh jaysus nearly did me back, never mind, this is glorious.  Nail the conversion, nail it, YEEESSS.   

That leaves three minutes to play down.  We still manage to make it interesting with a missed touch, but the noise level rises as we have it back between our own 22 and 10, the countdown starts, 17 thousand shouting out “ten, nine, eight…”, they can surely hear it over there, time’s up, Goodey backs off from the ruck, yes, that’s the way, and turns sideways, makes his easiest touch of the match onto the Next roof, WE’VE WON!  WE’RE IN THE HEINY!  WOO HOO! 

Only considerably later do I actually realise that we’re not only in the Heiny, but because of the other results, we’re in the playoffs too. So, that jolt of Varndell lightning puts the spark of life into Tigers’ season, my wonderful creature, IT LIVES!  Mwa hahahahahahah. 

The theme from the Great Escape on the PA raises a smile.  And just to top off an entirely beezer day out, while we’re wandering around savouring the feeling after the match, Geezer Junior spots the mighty Deano, who is charm itself and graciously does the shirt-signing and photo-posing honours.  Obviously Quins life is agreeing with him – I’m sure he used to be grumpier than that.   

So can we do it in the playoffs?  Heart says yes if that passion is still there, head says not if we can’t nail those first tackles a damn sight more effectively.  And Quins?  With Evans coming, they could be a force next season.  But just for now, I’m going to enjoy the feeling of Tigers still being in it and having Been There.   

Leicester: G Murphy; T Varndell, D Hipkiss, A Mauger, J Murphy (A Erinle 71min); A Goode, H Ellis; B Stankovich (M Ayerza 56min), M Davies (G Chuter 65min), J White, M Wentzel (R Blaze 70min), B Kay, M Corry (capt), J Crane, B Herring (T Croft 56min)
Harlequins: M Brown; T Williams, D Strettle, T Masson, S Keogh (D Barry 61min); C Malone, D Care; C Jones, C Brooker, M Ross (J Brooks 70min), J Percival (J Evans 45min), G Robson, C Robshaw (T Guest 59min), N Easter, W Skinner (capt)  

Scorers:
Leicester: Tries: Varndell (2), Herring, J Murphy, Crane; Conversions: Goode (3)
 

Harlequins: Tries: Williams (2), Brown, Skinner; Conversions: Malone (4)
 

Referee: W Barnes (RFU)
Attendance: 17,498

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