Waiting for the whitewash
By Citizen-Slacker
October 18 2011
It is, indeed, a funny old game. No, not the round ball variant, but this game we love called rugby union.
Saturday morning started as many have over the last month or so, up earlier than I would expect for a weekend to watch the World Cup, a game I had been looking forward to for some time, well, a week anyway. Wales against France, the team I expected to make the final against another underperforming northern hemisphere power. This was merely going to be the precursor to the best game in recent memory, a Wales/All Black final, the two most exciting, attacking & inventive teams in the world, fighting it out for the bragging rights for the next four years.
We all know what happened 20 or so minutes in & there will be no fence sitters. There are those who will say that the letter of the law was applied (letter of the memo issued prior to the RWC, rather than actual law, perhaps). There are others that may say there is a certain Franco-Irish referee who is one of those people who struggles when in the limelight, making rash decisions when faced with them & ensuring games are remembered more for the ref’s performance than the two teams on the pitch. Then there is the camp I’m in. Yellow yes, red no. 10 minutes acceptable, an hour with a player down unacceptable. Still, even with a player less, Wales contrived to lose a game they should & could have won by missing kicks & bizarrely resorting to the Falcons’ tactic of old & trying to play for a penalty at the death to take the three pointer & ultimately the win, eventually coughing up the ball & their chance for glory.
I knew the kind of backlash there would be as the first half played out. I was so determined to try & think things through that I managed to do the hoovering during the break. The first thought running through my head was the poor decision by the referee, but then I considered what is likely to happen next. The IRB, RWC organisers & others will spring in to action to back Alain Rolland, regardless. So it proved to be, by the time I got in to the shower at 11.00 5Live had already put the call in to Ed Morrison who confirmed the ref was right, blah, blah, blah. The papers on Sunday I assume covered it all, with the i’s dotted & t’s crossed. Little would have been mentioned about interpretation, part of the beauty of the game, but entrenched views from either side. I was though utterly surprised at the speed of the ban imposed on Warburton, reinforcing my view that the whitewash was in full effect.
Am I looking forward to the final? Not really, I believe that New Zealand will steam roller over France, clocking up the kind of cricket score that the seedings are alleged to rule out, then we will be left with the unbearably smug Kiwis, who for four years will try & alter the face of the game with the conviction that they can as they are world champions.
So, with the sinking feeling I had had since just before nine in the morning, I set off for Middlesbrough RFC. I’ve only played the ‘Boro’ once, about three years ago, memorable to me for three reasons, the first was that we played them at Acklam, where from the clubhouse window you could see the Tees Transporter Bridge; secondly, it was one of those occasions where I nearly scored a try, but when I should have cut in I tried beating the opposition front row by going round them, being tackled a yard short of the line; thirdly, for winning Dillon of the day, nominated by my own club chairman & team captain, cheers Paddy, for getting my hair braided a la Snoop Dogg, as it was long at the time & I had yet to invest in a scrum cap.
Back then, Gateshead IV team were on a par with many of the other local teams, a mixture of older, experienced players, youngsters working their way from the Colts to more senior teams & the odd player returning from injury. These days though the fours are a more mature side, with the odd newby having a cameo before moving up the ranks. It comes to something when I am one of the younger players, but that is the nature of this level of rugby. The week before last we went to Alnwick for the first league game of the season, losing to a younger, fitter side, with a smattering of players who may or may not be based at RAF Boulmer. My part in the game was so small, it doesn’t warrant mentioning. Last week we struggled to beat a Westend team full of fitness & aggression, which can only be good for a relatively new club working their way in to the local leagues. The Boro I was expecting was the old stagers I remember playing back whenever we last played them. Along with the new clubhouse & changing rooms, the team we faced were in general younger & fitter than expected. They were though having issues sorting a full front row, but were able to before kick off, the game was afoot.
Gateshead started badly, we were 19 points down within the first 25 minutes, with little to show. Part of it was we were bullied off the ball, a little intimidated by the physical nature of the game Middlesbrough wanted to play. After the third try went in we did mange to pick up the pace a little & started winning the battle in the scrum on a couple of occasions getting real territorial advantage, if not the line out, where timing was an issue from front to back. In the second half we got a try starting from a drive in our own half, before the ball went to the backs & some good support play meant we scored to the right of the posts, conversion missed. The next try though was a beautifully controlled scrum from about 15 yards out, that had the ref not awarded the try where it was scored, he would have been forced to award a penalty try for Boro’s scrum disintegrating once their no.8 crossed the line. Once more, I’ve been so close, but the hooker scoring at scrums is frowned upon, so I’ll take the plaudits for helping to make the try, if not the glory of the score.
The next we knew, we went to uncontested scrums. This was a friendly so no points to be gained, just the satisfaction that we had the upper hand in a least one area of the game. We managed a few more decent drives, having had the set piece nullified, which did seem to rattle a couple of the opposition, until with about 10 minutes to go, one of theirs was sent to the bin for a punch, not really needed or justified, possibly little Jimmy forgot his Ritalin that morning. With the last move of the game, we went from a scrum in to a set move, but one of the backs was isolated, the ball taken off him & Boro got the last say of the game with a 65 yard run in. Final score 26 – 12, & I am more battered & bruised than for any other game so far this season.
Then a frantic charge up the A19 to pick up Mrs Slacker, in order to make the 6.30 kick off for the Falcons. Easier times next week, Ryton IIIs at home for another friendly. Hopefully less controvesy too.
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Oh joy...