No Substitute for Paice!!!!
Feck me lads, 10 points from two games after back to back try bonus wins; nine tries in the ‘For’ column, three of which from Super Topsy and 4th now gained. Where the hell can we go from here now? In two weeks time, another huge game will have to be undertaken and victory the target as the HC spot becomes a real goal that could be achieved.In truth, Saints for all their huffing and puffing failed to make much of an impression on another outstanding defensive display from Irish. This was in a fecking large part due to missing their entire back three, namely Lamont, Reihana (our sympathies for his loss) and Cohen. These three would have made a huge difference as Kydd, Rudd and Vilk lacked any pace or idea on how to get over the gainline. On numerous occasions one of these lads had time and space to make more impact, but found themselves hunted down with ease.
Clarke fecking up a glorious chance having done all the hard work just about summed up Northampton’s day; one which they had entered into with confidence brimming after a master class of attacking rugby in the previous round.
London Irish had this game under control and there seemed little doubt from the 9,300 odd attendees that any other result would be reached once the scoreboard got rolling. For all of King Carlos’ magical workings, Irish returned the pill in spades. Even after some awesome work at the breakdown from Daniel Browne, Tupai, and in particular Harding, Saints failed to make any headway.
By half time, the speed and guile of the Irish attack had posted two tries and a 17-3 lead, a score line deserved for pure endeavour and another game of taking the chances offered.
Armitage bagged the first one as he chased the ball destined for touch after some excellent work from the back three, who injected pace from deep. He was lucky to still be on the field after a Saintsman tried to decapitate him after he kicked through and was about to chase. Wayne Barnes, with another outrageous law interpretation of a game, had obviously left his fecking cards in the changing room as Northampton remained with their full compliment of players.
The next try was a real corker, built from turnover in their own 22 and finished with a fecking unbelievable twenty yard sprint to rest the ball under the sticks from Paice! Rudd had found himself in the Irish 22 and popped the ball inside to Robinson. The plucky kiwi spilt the pill, allowing Catt to launch the attack. With hands from fat boys and girls involved, the exiles maintained possession before the ball ended up in the hooker’s hands.
The Aussie born academy player starting as a result of a broken finger to Coetzee - sustained during the fecking of Barf - had a dream game. Steady at lineout time, and active around the paddock all day, he claimed his try as well as setting another up to be named MOM at the Madstad. A real player for the future, coming from the conveyor belt of talent that the academy is churning out.
The second period was of a similar pattern to the first, with Saints attempting attacking lines under the conductorship of Spencer, getting wide where they lost the go-forward.
Irish were relishing the counterattack style to the game, with both the impressive Dawson, fresh from his Ulster talks and the fecking awesome Leguizamon being a real pain in the ass in the loose. Add Roche to the equation, and the battle of the back rows was a freakin’ beauty to behold. The difference was that excellent ball won by the numbered 6-8 green lads was used far more effectively.
This was demonstrated for the third try, a score that effectively ended the contest. From great ball, the pill found Paice, who straightened the line and stood the fullback up like any good centre should! His pass was well timed and committed the defender and allowed Paddy Tagicakibau an easy ride to the line.
Tagicakibau had a funny old day at the office, to be fair. He looks the real deal when given space, and his friggin’ pace will ask a lot of questions of Premiership defences, however, a few errors under the high ball and in contact will need to be coached out of him. This will definitely happen as the staff at Irish seem to be polishing a wealth of squad players into real gems. He does seem to be settling down nicely which will help him improve.
Another academy fella, fresh from his mullering of his Scottish counterparts of the U21 variety on Friday night, also showed his wares when replacing the injured Armitage at half time. Ojo is now starting to prove himself the real deal with his frightening pace and silky skills. His third try in two games to give Irish the important BP; having received the ball from Tiesi, another player who has the makings of quality.
Overall, a great result and one that has placed more pressure on Glaws and Tigers in the pursuit of the play-off slots. Under the leadership of Catty, Irish are starting to look a dangerous force. Catt again stepped forward and unleashed the pacey lads with trademark passing off both left and right hands. His drop goal from broken play was pure class, and the break he made for the fourth try belied his advancing years.
The pack again had another strong game, with the fecking fat lads giving it a real lash in the tight, loose and set-piece phases of play. Rautenbach is a man mountain who just loves the contact, and Hatley continues to defy the laws of nature as he places his old body through the mill for the cause.
Kennedy and Casey are a partnership made in heaven, but not in a homo way, although Big Bob today seemed to be carrying a knock from last week.
Another strong half-back performance, especially from the twitchier Hodgson, who gets through a fecking hell of a lot of work and prop forwards. The Magic at 10, Flutey, will have a grin wider than the widest thing known to mankind, having squared the score against his former master.
A weekend off for most of the lads before the huge task of tackling a Brizzle side who will battle tooth and nail for everything. Well done Irish and see you there.
-- Master Scribe