King Carlos sent on a merry dance by a magic flute
… but it was for a losing bonus point in the end. Ben Cohen, as mentioned in the preview, hit form and finally crossed the line at 11:45pm last night to break Irish hearts.But the four points could have been heading to Sunbury well before the Saints were allowed to pocket them for themselves with the last kick of the game. It was probably just that the inspiration, Reihana, slotted the extras at 11:46pm, as he had been a thorn in the side for the exiles all afternoon and evening. This fecker scored two tries and kicked pens and a couple of conversions to snap the flute, an activity most at home in North Belfast rather that in the Gardens. One-ball-Pountney stated after the match: “Someone said Bruce can't kick. But if he can't kick then I'm the Pope - and I'm not even Catholic”, a quote in step with flute bending.
The first of his brace of tries came after the initial exchanges had been made and five minutes was nearing on that fecking clock. Irish coughed up possession having taken the ball into contact, allowing the ball to be turned over to the saintly beggars, before Carlos released his fellow antipodean to race in for the 5 pointer. He slotted the extras to maximise the worst possible start for the new London Irish.
His second reduced the Northampton arrears on the scoreboard when he burst through on the blindside after some good Saints forward work and crossed the whitewash. He fecked the conversion, shanking the attempt left of the uprights.
This try was the perfect time to strike to take the home side into the interval a mere 2 points behind a determined visiting side that had been dominant since the early set back.
The Irish pack, minus the unfortunate last minute withdrawn Magne, were starting to get in the faces of the fat lads from the midlands. The lineout work of Bob, Nick and Flav was excellent, especially on theirs. The two second rowers were staring to put a lot of pressure on Richmond to hit his man.
Mike Catt was having a hard time making touch, with four or five of his efforts staying on land, but his overall direction as captain was immense.
The defensive work of the exiles was starting to get them back in to the contest; it was only a matter of time before this pressure would turn up on the scoreboard, alongside that fecking clock.
It became Magic time, as Flutes made the game dance to his tune. After kicking a penalty to get the score rolling, the Rikki one then stole King Carlos's crown by intercepting his aimless pass in the Irish half. Flutes then turned on the gas and burned his way under the posts for 7 points with the easy conversion.
All those matches where Flutey had to endure splinters in the arse while watching Carlos run the show for the Maori must have been a dim and distant memory. The grin on his face was as wide as Pandora's cleavage when jogging back for the re-start.
Just like waiting for buses, a second try for the visitors was realised. The ball was presented to Dom Feau'nati after good defensive work forced the saints to spill the pill in contact. Dom picked up and ran down the five metre track, hotly pursued by the prop, Budgen. Not a fair contest in any shape or form as the winger placed down in the corner. The Magic-one-Kenobi felt the force, which was strong with him in the first period, and grabbed the extras from out wide.
The half time score of 20 - 18 did not do justice to the outstanding efforts made by Irish, and Saints were the ones going in to the rest with more momentum and confidence. The first period had been an excellent rugby view for the capacity crowd, and over an AG or two, the banter was flowing in all directions. A better way to spend a glorious October's afternoon in the sun would be a push to find. They may be from the Midlands and have weird dialect, but some of the best fans from the premiership were there in numbers with good humour in their weaponry. The AG was good too.
The second period did not live up to the previous forty, with both sides cancelling each other out with stern rush defences. The game descended further with King Carlos and Horak exchanging kicks for at least two hours, before the eventual result being touch.
Horak had worked well all game and was very safe under the high ball. It must also be noted that he actually passed the ball when joining the line, and contributed in all departments of play. The kicking ping-pong was not his greatest moments, but Brian Smith seems to have been working hard with him. A few rockets up the ringer and an occasional hair dryer style talking to will get excellent results for our number 15.
The BIG lad Rautenbach came on for Skuse after an hour and showed us his presence around the paddock. This guy is fecking HUGE and will be a bonus to the front row when he finally is given a start. Skuse had been strong in all of the forward's play, but, this fecking chunk of meat is going to love the contact of the premiership.
The style of play that Irish had started to adopt in the second half reminded me of the old days, old days being in the recent past. Multi-phase forward bangs, and play for pens or getting in a position for a drop. Gary Gold would have been proud of the way they were achieving this style.
Flutes finally missed a kick for Irish before stretching the lead to 5, with a pen. He was also involved in attempts to take the lead beyond the chasing Saints. Two drop goal attempts slipped past the posts and the lead remained within touching distance for the home side.
The scoreboard and announcer provided the information of how long was left to play, both throwing the magic number of seven in our direction. I hadn't realised it was in fact meant in hours as the boy Cohen crashed over in the corner after a quick penalty was the Saints option.
The way of defeat being delivered was a gutting experience for all the travelling fans. To find yourself with 1 point instead of the 4 that had been in the back bin only seconds previous is always a ball breaker, but hats off to the Man of the Match, Bruce Reihana for kicking the winner under enormous pressure.
Defeated? Yes. Right result? The scoreboard is king. Positives? Many and more to come. Gutted, but heartened.
Brian Smith, our Colonel in Chief and God of coaching, has the building blocks in place and now reaching for the sun to take this club forward. His post match reaction was full of pride and emotion, something that seemed to be lacking by our previous leader. The side will deliver us a result very soon, and I for one hope it is by issuing the Barf fecking kicking Kings a good shoeing. Fireworks on the 5th of November at the Madstad can be an achievable objective.
His main whinge was the timings, a natural reaction after losing so late into the evening. "The sooner they can get these fecking clocks into fecking order and operational the fecking better because you run the risk of playing until the home team scores. I for one am gutted, so if you excuse me Gents, I am off to the Bus Club to get trolleyed." And so he did.
London Irish:
Horak; Staniforth, Penney, Catt (capt), Feau'nati; Flutey, Willis;
Hatley, Flavin, Skuse; Casey, Kennedy; Dawson, Danaher, Murphy.
Subs:
Armitage for Staniforth (40),
Rautembach for Skuse (61),
Leguizamon for Murphy (40).
Not Used:
Hickie, Roche, Everitt, Hodgson.
-- Master Scribe