BATH PLUGGED: Harlequins 23 - 9 Bath

By greg p
April 14 2013

Stoop Press - End of the World Cancelled

I was running late for the match so I picked up a black cab from Richmond station. What follows is a verbatim transcript of the journey.

“Where to mate? The Stoop? Your’e ‘avin’ a giraffe. Fortress Stoop! It’s bin bleedin’ taken apart more times than my nipper’s Lego. It’s in so many pieces you could open a builder’s merchant and flog orf the breeze blocks and the steelwork – still on the bright side you could ‘ave Travis Perkins or Wickes sponsor you next season. Don’t start me on that Connor O’Shea [I hadn’t] – ‘is mind’s not on the job since Kidney got the tin tack. And he can take JK wiv ‘im too. And that Tofty – I don’t know about him going but why did he come in the first place? Now as fer Brownie, he’s lost his Mojo son [and presumably his copies of Kerrang, NME and Q?]. That Ugo and Tommy Williams – they’re just too alike ain’t they [not in the shower, I bet]. Hopper – he can ‘op off – he tackles like Tony Underwood on Lomuh mate. Nick Evans – ‘is legs ‘ave gorn rusty wiv all that fishing – and Danny Care ain’t bin right since ‘e come off the sauce. Get ‘im back dahn the boozer. Marler – bleedin’ Tchaikovsky would be of more use. JJ – his ‘ead ain’t bin the right place since he announced ‘is transfer [I’m sure it was still squarely between his shoulders]. Joe Gray, I’d rather ‘ave Joe 90. Robson – lightweight mate; Kohn – the Welsh have broke ‘im; and big Mo? Slow Mo more like it mate [Oh my God, he was now dissing one of the scariest men on the planet]; Robshaw – England have burnt ‘im out- either that or Camilla’s bin a bit too demanding. Cawww, you would wouldn’t yer. And Nick Easter – if ‘e was a ‘orse he’d be dahn the knacker’s yard mate. Stick ‘im in a Tesco lasagne [in fairness other contaminated food products are available]. You know who would sort out that shower…..Maggie, she’d ‘ave kicked ‘em up the aris….”

At that, a sudden wave of nausea hit me. “Can you let me out here, please?” I paid him and said, “Do you want a tip?”. “Yeah. Lovely job mate”. “OK, give up reading message boards you twonk!”

With that, I stepped out into the refreshing, rain flecked April air at the side of the A316 by the church. It was the Italianate masterpiece, St Swithin’s in Goal, lovingly tended by the Reverend Gilbert Balls. [Ed – I think you mean All Hallows, mate]. It is a little known fact that this renaissance gem was designed by the cherubic Bergamasco brothers in the late 15^th Century and built by their itinerant builders Fidel Castrogiovani and El Parisse. [Ed – is art history really your subject?] The thought then struck me: the renaissance Italians had gone to the trouble of introducing the western world to perspective yet we so easily lose sight of it. Here we were, with two trophies in the cabinet, a guaranteed Heineken place, a solvent club, our own ground and a set up that most clubs envy, yet the end of the world was coming – people were leaving TW10 for Pyong Yang as the atmosphere was more stable. Unbelievably, Wayne Barnes had been appointed referee for today’s game and 12 months ago that would have provoked a lynch mob in the Rosebine car park, but here we were on match day and the “angry-o-meter” had barely flickered, because it had all apparently gone completely Pete Tong at the club.

Can I just put it on record that it is only a crisis when a right minded rugby fan (and Brian Moore too) picks up the Evening Sub-standard and reads a blood curdling exclusive from our old mate COJones:

MIKE TINDALL TO CAPTAIN LIONS IN AUSTRALIA

So…..what was it to be? The wrist slitting blackness of another home defeat from a knackered team that was past its sell by date; or, the dazzling white of redemption from a young English squad that should be block booked to Argentina now?

As ever, in life and in sport, the answer is rarely black and white. The difference between success and failure in sport is sometimes fag paper thin – the bounce of a ball here, referee’s decision there – so, what side of the Rizzla were headed for today? Just which one of the Fifty Shades of Grey were we going to get?

As it happens it was an encouragingly light grey (quite appropriate given the shirt colour) performance, particularly the second half. Quins won a wintery looking game with a spring in their step 23 – 9, two tries to the good, and looking much better as the game went on.

A strong looking, but short of form, Quins side took on a Bath side shorn of a few big names – no Banahan, Abendanon or Biggs – that still had a bit of shout for a Heineken place. Bath bossed the first 10 minutes keeping the ball well and playing in Quins’ half. Donald knocked over a penalty on five minutes (for not rolling away) and while Quins found some pressure and territory they didn’t trouble the scoreboard. A neat grubber from Nev gave Donald an awkward touch kick but Quins blew the resulting line out on the 5 metre line. The scrum misbehaved all afternoon, like a pair of drunken buffalo, and Barnsey pinged both sets of forwards regularly. From one of the offences the wonderfully named Olly Devoto knocked over a biggish kick with his left foot. Six – nil to Bath and Quins were still misfiring with plenty of mishandling and our new speciality, the “grubber pass” getting a good showing.

Early doors Robson went off for Charlie Matthews – with no loss of grunt – and Hopper gave way to Ben Botica. Following Barnsey giving what appeared to be the Brian Moore “why oh why can’t you bloody well bind” lecture at another imploded scrum, Bath went off side and, sharp intake of breath, Botica stepped up and drilled over the kick like a seven iron into the wind. He’s a lot quicker than Nev in his routine too – I’ve often thought of bringing War and Peace with me to while away the time while Nev lines up his kicks.

Whether it was Botica coming on, or just Quins getting their act together, suddenly Nev and Lowe both made slashing breaks. The passes started to find hands and the ball was being recycled at a better speed. The pressure caused a holding on offence and Bot found the slot for 6-6. The half ended with a slightly farcical reference to the TMO, well into over time, for a marginal high tackle by Tom Guest on the vertically challenged Kyle Eastmond. The TMO did his “Man from Del Monte” routine and said yes and Steven Donald accepted the charitable donation with aplomb: 9-6 to Bath at half time.

The second half started with Nev and Bot both pretending the ball was a bar of soap, but with that out their system Quins then collectively found a gear or two not seen for some time. A turnover and a Nev kick led to pressure on the Bath line. While Bath held up the big men from the line out, Danny Care darted off the back off a maul and bravely dived low between Hooper and another big lad to find the whitewash. It was close enough to the posts for the conversion to be more of a formality than a Chinese election. Forty six minutes gone and the mood of the Stoop was suddenly lifted and the team looked sharper and more confident.

Nev in particular found his kicking boots – from hand – and began to find angles and cause the out of sorts Bath back three various shades of trouble. A charge down from (from Guesty by the look of it) was scrambled away by the Bath cover but Nick Easter’s chip and chase should have been left on the training ground. Quins kept the pressure up and a Bath failure to roll away saw Bot hit another seven iron for three points to make it 16-9. Buchanan replaced Gray, Collier came on for JJ, Wallace for Guest and Ugo did his version of changing places with Sam Smith, all to good effect.

With good ball from a line out on 65 minutes, Nev launched one higher than Sarries’ wage bill and it caused a Corporal Jones moment in the Bath back three. Ugo was on it like a lion on an antelope’s neck, kicked through and grounded it……or did he? The ref went upstairs, the TMO showed his consistency and again said “yes” and it was game over. Another TMO may have given that the thumbs down and I suspect there were plenty in Blue shirts feeling robbed about that. It was a fag paper moment.

Once Bot had made it five out of five with the boot it was 23-9 and as much as Bath tried to nick a score and maybe a losing bonus point it was always Quins game. Suddenly the off loads were finding hands, Tom Williams nearly aqua-planed in for a score from a cross kick and Brown started to make big holes in the white defensive line. There was no further scoring despite Bath’s best efforts and Quins sudden decision to play a sevens type game in pouring rain on a mud heap. We were also treated to a Tom Williams “cheeky chappie” grubber kick out of his own 22. With the early leavers finding the exits, Barnesy called time and we collectively cheered and breathed a sigh of relief – there had been definite sightings of the Mojo in the second half.

For Bath it was a game effort – Attwood could be a real handful on another day – and you have to applaud their coaching set up for finding players in corners of the Galaxy that even the Hubble telescope hasn’t got to yet. However, their backs looked short of class without the big names, and with a run in harder than Vinnie Jones they may fall short of the Heineken places.

For Quins it wasn’t a four try Barbarian fest of complete redemption but we’re definitely back on the right road……….and perspective, and why I like this game? It was Nev and Steven Donald long after the final whistle in the middle of the pitch, deep in conversation, clearly having a laugh, 12,000 miles from home: one with an unexpected World Cup winners medal in his pocket and one without, but both still mates.

BATH PLUGGED: Harlequins 23 - 9 BATH

Posted by: ComeAllWithin.co.uk (IP Logged)

Date: 14/04/2013 14:24

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