Brent Russell
Russell Brace Helps Sarries Sink Bath
Brent Russell
By r'n'b January 28 2008
With tension smouldering nicely – two places, seven points and a club captain between them this GP 11th round match between Saracens and Bath kicked off on a chirpy Sunday lunchtime at Vicarage Road. Sunshine, clear skies and a pitch showing signs of recent deluge but looking firm enough for running rugby.
Brent Russell
With tension smouldering nicely – two places, seven points and a club captain between them this GP 11th round match between Saracens and Bath kicked off on a chirpy Sunday lunchtime at Vicarage Road. Sunshine, clear skies and a pitch showing signs of recent deluge but looking firm enough for running rugby.
Saracens smug as you like, Bath keen as a wound to show they didn’t give a damn for the defection of former skipper Steve Borthwick to the Watford wastes. “Steve who? Big plank!” The man himself needing a game and a half to show Sarries it was money well spent and Bath that he was still their man. For the moment.
By twenty past one, the late absence of Neil de Kock added to that of Chris Jack and Kevin Sorrell had dampened Fez spirits by the bucket and suggested a lion’s share of set-piece ball (theirs and ours) to the Bath backs via Messrs Borthwick, Grewcock, Claassens and James. Beattie, Lipman and Browne, of course, would make life very full for Jackson and (short of game time) Dickens. Game over. Ten minutes to kick off.
And so it would have been in the bad old days but these are the good old days and Saracens now is not Saracens then.
From Barkley’s start, confident pressure and Sarries down to the Bath twenty-two, the pack tight, aggressive and loud; Vyvyan marauding and savage, Ryder barely the less. Seymour’s impression of Jean-Pierre better by the game. Fifteen men in black leading by example, Bath giving ground, squandering ball and more.
Then the first moment of truth. This is where it would show. The set-piece, an early line-out, the Bath forte. Two of the best in the land against one of the best and his apprentice. Borthwick and Grewcock v Vyvyan and Ryder. Game over just five minutes into play.
And through the roar of a winter’s day in Watford, Mr Richards’ whistle.
It had taken two minutes (he’s not as quick as he was) for the Beast of Bath to recall that the laws of Rugby Union are for everyone else but he - Vyvyan taken out in the air. A lecture from Mr Richards, Danny indignant, ruffled but hardly the monster of old and Sarries entirely unperturbed. Confidence without swagger. And confidence is critical; you know when you’ve got it, you know when you ain’t but you need it and need it and need to hold on to it. And did they?
Indeed they did. Back to the mill for controlled, unremitting Sarries pressure. Disappointment at not breaking the line allayed by a three point penalty for blue hands in a ruck but, more’s the point, a sense of Sarries’ work in progress. Real work in progress. Confident work in progress.
There was a time in memory when every other GP team knew the way to Saracens’ heart was, well, through its heart; “forget the flanks, forget the wings, straight over the ruck and up the middle!” they did it every time from Leeds to Leicester and stuffed us every time and how we screamed “behind you! They’re behind you!” Not these days, not these days now that Alan Gaffney has plugged the dyke. And with half-backs the calibre of Claassens and James, a three-quarter line almost equally as impressive (even with a pack getting as little out of the Sarries’ eight as Grewcock and chums) things had to change. And slowly they did. Bath settling down, beginning to play to plan, moving out wide – “forget the middle, go for the flanks and the wings!” Time and again the CJB access swinging from left to right to back again and time and again to a man Saracens holding strong. Terrific stuff. Dark blood and thunder. No quarter asked nor given. And then a Bath penalty, a kick to touch, a take on the throw some five metres from the Sarries’ line, a drive held up and the ball out to James. Through and over. A defining moment though not in the way anyone would have chosen. An injury to James. James off. Fuimaono-Sapolu on. Barkley to ten. Barkley missing the kick.
Change, however, had really come to Bath and with the pack picking up, a series of sustained, up-front attacks, But Saracens now is not Saracens then and move after move stifled, smothered, returned from whence it came – it would take more than this to break the black line. And then relief; Bath offside at a scrum, a Jackson penalty to touch, Sarries line-out ball moving swiftly from left to right then left again from Jackson to Russell to the line. A Jackson conversion. 10 – 5. And on the stroke of forty minutes another Jackson penalty. Sarries 13 – Bath 5. Just about right.
More of the same in Act 2 (who says it isn’t theatre?). Continuing Sarries pressure, unspectacular but gripping in intensity and resolve. And then the fourth and fifth blows Seymour off, Barrell on, Farrell off Leonelli on, an inevitable faltering to let a reviving Bath back in. Not a bit of it, more a seamless weave to the fine tapestry of the game – you’re on and don’t drop the needles.
Something of a hitch towards the hour though, Barkley sneaking beautifully through some for once fairly wayward (it must be said) Sarries flailing and slapping to go under the posts. One of those strange situations where they never looked like scoring until they did when it then looked to have been inevitable. Sarries defending until that moment tight and unrelenting. Turning the back foot to the front at every opportunity.
And on the nose of sixty minutes, the move of the game.
A Sarries turn-over deep in defence territory, the ball to Jackson, a little chip and almost before we’d finished shouting “What the hell are you doing, Glen?” a catch and hospital pass as sweet as ever you’ll see to Powell (and this was the pass of the game) to finger flick to the millimetre for Russell to take at speed and charge under the posts. Glen converted of course - did I need to say that?
The final three minutes and Sarries camped on the Bath twenty-two quite clearly for the duration. Cups of tea made, Sunday papers read and the ball quite firmly guarded (though very much alive) by the Thermopylae Eight.
And Dickens kick to touch? It’s what he did. Game won. Think what we’d have said if he hadn’t.
This win a testimony to the Gaffney regime. A fine team performance, no stars (though Nick Lloyd was truly gargantuan), no weak links. Too many turnovers, true and too many balls spilled in contact but Sarries in charge for much, no most of the game but, and this was so heartening, determined to be so. Never going to let go.
Bath played as well as they were allowed. Aggressive Sarries defence disrupting rhythm and confidence, particularly in the lineout and the pack second to almost everything. (I suspect Mr Fez will expect a bit more than this Steve.) A real shame to see Butch James off when he was clearly getting into it but Claassens looked off pace all afternoon and solid though Barkley was, it was solid rather than flair.
And me? I played a blinder. Every ball caught, every pass straight as a die to its target, tackle after tackle broken, Phil Bennett left floundering in the wake of my sidestep and my kicks to touch the full length of the pitch time after time from impossible angles with miraculous precision. My advice to every man in black invaluable. Didn’t even get my shorts dirty.
By twenty past one, the late absence of Neil de Kock added to that of Chris Jack and Kevin Sorrell had dampened Fez spirits by the bucket and suggested a lion’s share of set-piece ball (theirs and ours) to the Bath backs via Messrs Borthwick, Grewcock, Claassens and James. Beattie, Lipman and Browne, of course, would make life very full for Jackson and (short of game time) Dickens. Game over. Ten minutes to kick off.
And so it would have been in the bad old days but these are the good old days and Saracens now is not Saracens then.
From Barkley’s start, confident pressure and Sarries down to the Bath twenty-two, the pack tight, aggressive and loud; Vyvyan marauding and savage, Ryder barely the less. Seymour’s impression of Jean-Pierre better by the game. Fifteen men in black leading by example, Bath giving ground, squandering ball and more.
Then the first moment of truth. This is where it would show. The set-piece, an early line-out, the Bath forte. Two of the best in the land against one of the best and his apprentice. Borthwick and Grewcock v Vyvyan and Ryder. Game over just five minutes into play.
And through the roar of a winter’s day in Watford, Mr Richards’ whistle.
It had taken two minutes (he’s not as quick as he was) for the Beast of Bath to recall that the laws of Rugby Union are for everyone else but he - Vyvyan taken out in the air. A lecture from Mr Richards, Danny indignant, ruffled but hardly the monster of old and Sarries entirely unperturbed. Confidence without swagger. And confidence is critical; you know when you’ve got it, you know when you ain’t but you need it and need it and need to hold on to it. And did they?
Indeed they did. Back to the mill for controlled, unremitting Sarries pressure. Disappointment at not breaking the line allayed by a three point penalty for blue hands in a ruck but, more’s the point, a sense of Sarries’ work in progress. Real work in progress. Confident work in progress.
There was a time in memory when every other GP team knew the way to Saracens’ heart was, well, through its heart; “forget the flanks, forget the wings, straight over the ruck and up the middle!” they did it every time from Leeds to Leicester and stuffed us every time and how we screamed “behind you! They’re behind you!” Not these days, not these days now that Alan Gaffney has plugged the dyke. And with half-backs the calibre of Claassens and James, a three-quarter line almost equally as impressive (even with a pack getting as little out of the Sarries’ eight as Grewcock and chums) things had to change. And slowly they did. Bath settling down, beginning to play to plan, moving out wide – “forget the middle, go for the flanks and the wings!” Time and again the CJB access swinging from left to right to back again and time and again to a man Saracens holding strong. Terrific stuff. Dark blood and thunder. No quarter asked nor given. And then a Bath penalty, a kick to touch, a take on the throw some five metres from the Sarries’ line, a drive held up and the ball out to James. Through and over. A defining moment though not in the way anyone would have chosen. An injury to James. James off. Fuimaono-Sapolu on. Barkley to ten. Barkley missing the kick.
Change, however, had really come to Bath and with the pack picking up, a series of sustained, up-front attacks, But Saracens now is not Saracens then and move after move stifled, smothered, returned from whence it came – it would take more than this to break the black line. And then relief; Bath offside at a scrum, a Jackson penalty to touch, Sarries line-out ball moving swiftly from left to right then left again from Jackson to Russell to the line. A Jackson conversion. 10 – 5. And on the stroke of forty minutes another Jackson penalty. Sarries 13 – Bath 5. Just about right.
More of the same in Act 2 (who says it isn’t theatre?). Continuing Sarries pressure, unspectacular but gripping in intensity and resolve. And then the fourth and fifth blows Seymour off, Barrell on, Farrell off Leonelli on, an inevitable faltering to let a reviving Bath back in. Not a bit of it, more a seamless weave to the fine tapestry of the game – you’re on and don’t drop the needles.
Something of a hitch towards the hour though, Barkley sneaking beautifully through some for once fairly wayward (it must be said) Sarries flailing and slapping to go under the posts. One of those strange situations where they never looked like scoring until they did when it then looked to have been inevitable. Sarries defending until that moment tight and unrelenting. Turning the back foot to the front at every opportunity.
And on the nose of sixty minutes, the move of the game.
A Sarries turn-over deep in defence territory, the ball to Jackson, a little chip and almost before we’d finished shouting “What the hell are you doing, Glen?” a catch and hospital pass as sweet as ever you’ll see to Powell (and this was the pass of the game) to finger flick to the millimetre for Russell to take at speed and charge under the posts. Glen converted of course - did I need to say that?
The final three minutes and Sarries camped on the Bath twenty-two quite clearly for the duration. Cups of tea made, Sunday papers read and the ball quite firmly guarded (though very much alive) by the Thermopylae Eight.
And Dickens kick to touch? It’s what he did. Game won. Think what we’d have said if he hadn’t.
This win a testimony to the Gaffney regime. A fine team performance, no stars (though Nick Lloyd was truly gargantuan), no weak links. Too many turnovers, true and too many balls spilled in contact but Sarries in charge for much, no most of the game but, and this was so heartening, determined to be so. Never going to let go.
Bath played as well as they were allowed. Aggressive Sarries defence disrupting rhythm and confidence, particularly in the lineout and the pack second to almost everything. (I suspect Mr Fez will expect a bit more than this Steve.) A real shame to see Butch James off when he was clearly getting into it but Claassens looked off pace all afternoon and solid though Barkley was, it was solid rather than flair.
And me? I played a blinder. Every ball caught, every pass straight as a die to its target, tackle after tackle broken, Phil Bennett left floundering in the wake of my sidestep and my kicks to touch the full length of the pitch time after time from impossible angles with miraculous precision. My advice to every man in black invaluable. Didn’t even get my shorts dirty.
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Re: Bath Match Report
Posted by: hertsman (IP Logged)
Date: 2008:01:28:17:26:04
Great report r'n'b. Enjoyed reading that very much. For some reason I switched to a Stuart Hall (of R5live) type voice, and the full colour of your words came out.
Re: Bath Match Report
Posted by: T (IP Logged)
Date: 2008:01:28:17:26:15
I never knew Stuart Hall was a Saracen!
Top top stuff
Edit - Blimey Hertsman, talk about on the same wavelength!
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 2008:01:28:17:27:58 by T.
Top top stuff
Edit - Blimey Hertsman, talk about on the same wavelength!
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 2008:01:28:17:27:58 by T.
Re: Bath Match Report
Posted by: TonyTaff (IP Logged)
Date: 2008:01:29:10:25:25
A fine debut in the scribbling stakes!
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 2008:01:29:10:25:56 by TonyTaff.
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 2008:01:29:10:25:56 by TonyTaff.
Re: Bath Match Report
Posted by: Convex Hull (IP Logged)
Date: 2008:01:29:10:52:21
Every new reporter matches the standard of the last.
I too had flashbacks of Stuart Hall road testing a Capri 3 Litre on Look North in the early 80s by the time I got halfway through this.
Great effort and great fun to read r'n'b.
I too had flashbacks of Stuart Hall road testing a Capri 3 Litre on Look North in the early 80s by the time I got halfway through this.
Great effort and great fun to read r'n'b.
Re: Bath Match Report
Posted by: r'n'b (IP Logged)
Date: 2008:01:29:11:17:02
Many thanks chaps. - Just off out to buy a trilby!
Re: Bath Match Report
Posted by: jeremy ogorman (IP Logged)
Date: 2008:01:29:11:28:34
I thought it was Harry worth who wore the trilby - not Stuart Hall
excellent report though .. if this is normal standard for new scribes we need more of them
excellent report though .. if this is normal standard for new scribes we need more of them
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