Sarries, and all That

THE final home game of the rather pointless (in terms of it being important to ten of the eleven Championship clubs, anyway) came and went during a break in the grey and the rain that has blighted the month of May so far.

Jon Sharp had made his wish that the clouds would part, and that the lucky few who had gained entrance would drink lots and lots of beer, and so it happened. And no, I know not how much ale was quaffed, but it was a damned sight more than has been for a long long time at the BPA!

That the opposition was set to be the Premiership club on its sabbatical in the nether-regions of forgotten-rugby is in some ways momentous, and in some ways irrelevant, but whatever, 1400 spectators seemed to enjoy their several hours unshackled in the sun/overcast.

It was momentous for the obvious reason that finally, there was an allocation of tickets made to fans of both clubs involved, but irrelevant given that everyone (I'll say everyone anyway; feel free to disagree) knew what the outcome would be, as Sarries continue their almost inevitable march to the Championship summit for the first time ever.

Bolstered, as they were, by the inclusion of Alex Goode, who only added to the already stellar array of capped talent available to their very vocal DoR Mark McCall, The Men in Black were odds-on to substantially chip away at Ealing's lead in both Championship points and points difference.

And boy did they deliver.

Cov, to their immense credit, utterly failed to play to the obvious script of trying to stifle the opposition, and instead launched attacks from deep at every opportunity, to the obvious delight and praise of former Sarries hooker George Chuter, ably assisting Chris Wearmouth on the microphones. Never cowed by the extent of their task, the likes of – most notably but not exclusively – full back Louis Brown took the ball in from deep, more often than not make excellent yardage to set up several attacks which would certainly have yielded far more reward against 'normal' opposition.

Indeed, after going down to a first minute try, the home side could have been level or ahead within five minutes, and probably would have been with a slightly cooler approach and a spot more luck.

And that was the story of the game.

Cov spinning the ball at every opportunity, or taking tap penalties, or indeed trying the outrageous offload when maybe taking it to ground might have been the more pragmatic approach given the quality of opposition.

But that was the sheer unbridled joy of this game, which sounds incongruous, if not ludicrous, to anyone viewing the scoreline in isolation.

Yes, joy. Cov played it the way Rowland Winter had very obviously instructed them to do so. And that is just so much to their credit, and contrary to the odd misplaced criticism the right way to play rugby.

On then to the Richmond Athletic Ground for the final stanza next weekend.

Good luck Saracens.

Don't come back (unless it's on slightly more level terms).