A Day At The Seaside, French Style

Saints v ASM Clermont Auvergne

Stade Darragon, Vichy Saturday 16th August 2008

Kick-Off 18:00

Weather - dry, warm, golden at end of low-mid 20's centigrade day.

Score - ASM Clermont Auvergne 14-5 (HT 7-5)

Injuries: Downey 9 mins head, blood, back on later repaired; Clarke - 16 mins head, blood, back on repaired later

We arrived in Vichy on the Friday evening by road. We left the goths; metallists and French grungers behind in beer swilled Arras, and touched down in this oasis of gentility and style with the gratitude of Neil Armstrong gasping for some fresh air. We had zoomed down the auto route, in and out of heavy showers to a grande ville we had never visited before.

From our walking expeditions on Friday and Saturday we decided that Vichy is classy but has seen better days. There are lots of elegant and empty shops perhaps. The average age of those also walking the streets was over 30, and in our hotel slightly more (and then some more). It is of course a spa town where, armed with your prescription and 30 day advance booking certificate, you come to sample the waters of Les Sources Vichy which can be seen by the idle tourist in the grand Victorian pavilion bubbling up from under at 38 and 43 degrees centigrade. Once purged by the sulphurous cocktails you can go and bathe in, be dowsed with, be colonically-irrigated by and wrapped up in muddy overcoats until you are clean enough for the very best Regiments of Horse based in Knightsbridge.

But frankly, it's not what hip young people do. This is an oldies town, and it shows. If Jim, Nobby & Mr. Tracey have had our boys in camp here, then naughty late nights would have been unlikely, even given someone brave enough to try and organise them.

We did Saturday breakfast, resplendent in a new season's shirt, getting its first outing. A lady gave me a leaflet thinking I was one of her charges - I was ordered to have no bread, double vegetables and 100gms of some squiggly stuff. In the lift back to our room we were confronted by a brave geriatric in a white towelling dressing gown, but not much else. It was all a bit evocative of life with the Famous Five in Biarritz, but without the hangover.

And so to buy our match tickets. We wandered along the banks of the River / Lac Allier which forms the central promenade of town. Dodging jogging dogs with smaller ones in tow, we strolled about 15 minutes north from the Spa to the home of Racing Club Vichy Rugby. In the morning sunshine it looked glorious and evocative of those TV pictures I had seen of the ground at Agen when it was still undeveloped.

The ground has a new grandstand on one side, and like all other French municipal grounds is open and tree lined. There was an air of expectation in those we met in the very friendly disorganised admin office. We paid our 15 Euros each for our seats and set off back to the centre of town looking forward to meeting others of the SEF (Saints Expeditionary Force) ready to swap tales of our heroic approach to the battlefield. Except, errm, there weren't any - well not that we saw. We went everywhere - the Opera House, The Casinos, the Shopping street, The Hypermarche and back to our hotel. We met just two people of note. Alan Robson - the self-same vendor of Prawn Sandwiches - eating his late breakfast, and an Northampton émigré now living in town and out shopping with his mum from Kettering.

As we ambled around the beautiful but decaying Opera House, we heard a shout from a balcony of the nearby Aletti Palace to see two half naked Adonises hailing us from afar - for it was Messrs Hartley and Foden (I think) and we waved back. But until we pitched up back at the stadium at 5 o'clock ready for sociable and rugby action - that was it. A town devoid of Saints, but full of candidates getting ready for purgatory.

The game eventually saw about 20 GB&G clad souls led by new recruit St Archie (2) from Rothwell, who had interrupted his important holiday at Euro Disney to lead us in the fray. Statto was there, armed with his trusty Eurorail timetable (this man uses French trains like others do the Northern Line!), and hot from the autoroute (and a fine for naughty speeding) were KB & Maggie who spent the night with us all and were the usual friendly and gracious hosts, except when they had sit with the toffs in the posh seats with some bloke called King-er from the High Wycombe who was "looking after them" for the game.

Saints had a cunning plan for the game. In the first half, 15 or so blokes played in green shirts. In the second half, a different 15 or so blokes played in white shirts. The French team had their own cunning plan which they seemed to have borrowed from 'It Ain't Half Hot Mum': "If it moves, tackle it. If it also has the ball, form a mountain of bodies over it and scramble around until it coughs up the ball".

I wrote copious time flashed notes, I took pictures (and will post them when I find a USB lead) but no doubt Barfly has already done the factual stuff and posted a very acceptable match report on the offy. So instead here's a few of my more general observations and other snippets -

* By prior arrangement both teams declined penalty kicks throughout the game - the score didn't matter

* By prior arrangement, the ref declined to use his cards. In the real world I reckon 3 yellow card incidents in 80 minutes plus a comforting handbags moment

* Alex Rae uses his mouth to good effect on the pitch to urge on his fellows. He is a yeoboy rapidly becoming a yeoman.

* We have a new ELV tactic which is to deliberately pull down line out balls won at the tail. I spotted this at least 3 times

* Both teams tried to exploit the ELV quick throw in option but the ref couldn't keep up and kept blowing up for 'proper' throws

* We were very solid in defence. There were several times when lesser defence would have conceded a greater margin

* The coaching staff are very focused on team spirit and 'togetherness' ready for an arduous campaign. I won't tell tales from the Hotel afterwards but the bonding is fine and a chap called Best seems to be the new Social Secretary.

* There were 2 moments of luck which both went to the opposition. Kicked balls into the loose in the 5 metre zone at different ends, both landed into yellow and blue arms resulting in 7 points to them, and none to us.

* Bruce, Bruce, Bruce was only second last off the pitch after pictures, autographs and kissing babies to be followed about 2 weeks later by local golden boy Aurelian Rougerie after pictures, autographs, TV interviews, kissing daughters sisters, mothers, poodles (line'em up, I'll kiss'em!), and the local spotty boys who all want to be Rougerie too.

* There was an awful amount of off-the ball stuff during the game, which I've already joked about. ASM are very well drilled - players adjacent to the tackle were cleared out, players close to the kick off receiver were cleared out etc etc etc

* Dylan and Foden arrived late in town on Friday after their England duties. Despite Dylan's iffy throwing action (2 line-outs so lost) he was generally his irritatingly best, putting himself about with gusto and strength. Foden (White 9 to Myler) just loves to snipe from the base of the scrum, ruck and maul and will score us lots of tries this way. Lee Dixon (Green 9 to Carlos) is more of a classic scrummie with a good pass (dunno about both hands yet).

* Our only try was scored by Bruce, Bruce, Bruce (the worst stutter in Northampton) on 33 minutes to open the scoring. Overall we played a really controlled and tight game with Carlos (first half) and Myler (second half) kicking most ball from the 10 position

* Oh Glory! The last 10 minutes was classic 'hats on wheels stuff' - my pen couldn't keep up. Frantic, swift changes of possession, Annsbro running the ball out of Hell and his own 10m area, obstructions, swift passing from left wing to right wing looking for defensive gaps but it was too late and not really very important.

Our coaches had us all briefed - the French are more advanced in their pre-season than us, this was a learning session, results don't matter, don't think you've seen the first XV play as a unit yet (who said 'not 'til Treviso'?) and we have a long way to go. I was content. In the bar afterwards (yes, sorry, this is one of those ‘I know more than you do moments!) I spoke to Nick Johnson. This is one focussed, deadly serious honcho on a mission, I have ever been verbally menaced by in a few more years than him. Our coaching team are oozingly professional and determined in a most intense way. The team are shaping nicely and the new season is almost upon us. I can't wait.

Come on You Saints!

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