The Churchill Cup Finals, A Grand Day Out

This year the finals of the Churchill Cup was held just outside New York in the brand new Red Bull soccer arena. So here are some impressions of the day's events.

We made camp in Manhattan at a discrete distance from Times Square and the tourists, but Manhattan is a small island and the noise of New York City life is relentless. Even in the bedroom the racket of the air conditioner is with you all night.

The main weekend attraction was the Red Bull Air Race making a first showing in New York. Just about every Irish bar in the city had non-stop wendyball, plenty of mention of the forthcoming Polo match on the Governors Island blatantly promoted as an opportunity to rub shoulders with Prince Harry, but rugby was not on the radar, save for the odd supporters shirt evident on the streets. 

We took a taxi down to Penn Station, only to be told that we wanted a PATH train which terminated in a shabby old underground station a couple of blocks away. The Red Bull Arena is part an urban redevelopment scheme; the arena is in Harrison surrounded by the decaying remains of 1920's heavy engineering companies. The PATH train is right at home in such an environment, wheezing and groaning its way off the island towards the old suburban area of the city.

The arena sits in a grand sea of nothingness, save car parks. No shops, no bars, no restaurants,    nothing apart from the odd franchised snack bar (Nice of them to replicate the Vicarage Road experience for you. Ed). But what an arena! Designed to bring the best characteristics of intimate European football stadiums to the USA, it achieves its goal with great panache, I am willing to wager that even Woodford Dave would get out of his armchair for such a venue. Without doubt the best 25,000 seater stadium for club rugby that I have ever seen. Nigel (Wray), can we please have one for Christmas, just like that?

Rugby still has the look and feel of a minority amateur sport in the USA, very much like hockey in England. The stadium announcements before the match not only contained the usual Franklin's Gardenesque list of banned items, including guns and brooms(?), but also a useful summary of the laws of rugby.  I can't help but feel that Edward Griffiths would have made a far better fist of such an event if he were in charge. A wonderful venue, some good teams playing amidst a huge conurbation, yet there were barely five hundred people present for the first match between Russia and Uruguay.

Russia are a team on the move, improving fast under the guidance of our very own Diamond geezer. There were plenty of signs of intensive training and coaching  to be seen in the Russian team, good work at set pieces and rucks along with skilful linked running from the back division. This is a team that is destined to become much stronger, although I wonder if their main objective will be Olympic glory at Sevens. Uruguay were better than I expected, but no match for Russia except when it came for the occasional outbreak of handbags, where they excelled. Any show of violence in American Football is punished severely, so fisticuffs both surprised and energised the crowd. This aspect of the game, along with crunching tackles and long runs by the backs seemed to strike a chord with the spectators.

Russia dispatched Uruguay by a substantial margin and it was time for the final between the Saxons and Canada. By this time the temperature had reached levels that would produce “Cor, What a Scorcher” headlines in the Sun. Along with the heat comes the energy sapping humidity, a combination that took its toll on both teams in the final quarter, perhaps England more so than Canada. The crowd had grown to what Vicarage Road might reasonably expect on a wet midweek February night when playing Albi in a dead rubber.

England's team comprised of a lot of youngsters, along with a few old heads such as Bell and Titterall. Goode was restored to 15 and Saull was at 7. With a back three of Goode, Simpson-Daniel and Abendanon, and a perfect, if heavily sanded, playing surface, the afternoon promised to have some running rugby. And so it was for the first ten minutes; the Canadians kicked for territory and found Goode more than eager to take the attack to them. The Saxons backs, supported by a strong performance by the forwards, had time and space to play the running game and soon had crossed the whitewash twice. Alex played a major part in both tries and continued to run back at the Canadians throughout the match in the style of TC (Thomas Castagneide). It is nerve racking to watch, it seemed that he was bound to get caught and isolated on his 22 sooner or later, but it never happened.

Brad had already left for Oz, so the centre pairing was Clarke and Allen. The pundits gave them high praise after the match, but from our vantage point behind the goal, it did seem that the centres crabbed across the pitch and missed Barritt's ability to straighten the attack. As it turned out, much of England's play was along the wings, particularly between Goode and Abendanon. Simpson-Daniel saw less of the ball than Abendanon, but I think this was a consequence of the pattern of tactical kicking that Canada employed.

As England romped into an early 17 – 0 lead, we were beginning to fear the worst for Canada. However the threatened drubbing never materialised and the Canadians came back strongly in the second quarter. Andy Farrell would have been pleased with the attacking play, but not with the defence.  Missed tackles, players out of position, and the scoreline was 20 -13 at half time. It was fortunate that Myler was in good form, or it would have been much closer.

The second half saw Goode and Abendanon in action again, with another well worked try along the wing. The ferocious heat was definitely taking its toll, but Canada did seem to cope better. MOTM Narraway put the game beyond the reach after collecting the ball from a sweeping move across the pitch to score a try tight on the right touchline, however the last quarter was definitely dominated by Canada. They got their due reward after some supreme muppetry from Varndell (watch the highlights for the gruesome details) who was on the pitch for Simpson-Daniel.

The two Saracens did us credit, as we would expect, and most of these young England players put in good performances. A strong forward game including some robust carries by Saull, plus dynamic back play, gave a display that was only marred by some ineffectual defence and weary legs. 38 – 18 at the final whistle.

Highlights:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WS3K8IFI1GE

The final match of the day was France A against the USA. The commentator announced that the result 'would decide the fate of the Churchill Cup', which was less than honest and aimed at retaining some spectators who otherwise may wander off to the PATH station. The American crowd was certainly fired up, despite a truly excruciating rendition of 'The Star Spangled Banner'. (Why do they yell and hoot in appreciation when the singers miss a note?)

Chris Wyles was the class player in the USA team, launching attacks much like Goode had done earlier in the day. It bodes well for Saracens next season when he will be at 15, although he was a little awry with his kicking from hand. There were a couple of dazzling runs from Ngwenya, but a polished French team were fully aware of the threat that he posed and he was double tackled on every occasion. At full time the French team, with notable performances from Arias and Beauxis had dispatched the USA threat 24 -10.

Saturday was hot, but the following day was plain ridiculous - with 100% humidity driving us into the air conditioned hotel lobby for much of the day (after your correspondent’s daughter had emptied his bank account in Lacoste on 5^th Avenue). We decided to skip the air race and will have to wait another year to meet Prince Harry at the Polo match. A grand day out, but please let Edward do the marketing for the series next year.