London Irish Left Kicking Themselves
Another friggin’ St Paddy’s Day disappointment for the crowd of a gnat’s foreskin short of 20,000, as the leaders performed a smash and grab type fecking to stretch their lead at the summit to 9 points.London Irish will have to extract the positives from a freaking stormer of a contest that very much shows the beauty of the Black Stuff Premiership. Both sides showed real threat that should have been well received by the viewing public sat on their arses at home. Six tries and some excellent rugby being played ensured that the partygoers had a lovely main course, as they broke for 90 odd minutes from the jiggery-pokery served up in the Guinness Village.
The Odd-Shaped feckers also used this occasion to unleash the embroidered finished Muppet green habits to the general public, ensuring that at least thirty peeps looked fecking mad, including fan of the week, Bisach; a year’s supply of AG for that fecker then. These media whores also happened to get their ugly freakin’ mugs on the BBC, soiling this fine institution.
To be honest, this game was a real pisser for all Exile fans, as the better side over the piece failed to take all opportunities on offer. Flutey had more chance of kicking his own ring than landing anything from a fecking awful boot. Three missed conversions and a relatively simple penalty was his kicking stats, which would have made a huge difference on the scoreboard come the break.
Portioning blame is not the best idea when you view the rest of his contribution. He was pinging the ball all over the back line, dancing like a raver in his attempts to break a solid defensive unit. He had a hand in all things good for Irish on the day, including bagging yet another try from open play. The try happened to be a dubious decision from the touch judge, with a fecking session in the sack with Maggie Thatcher being a better call than this.
Meanwhile, man of the match, Hodgson for the Sharks, just cracked on with a master class of point taking. His precision was fecking metronomic in its delivery, as he kept his side well in the hunt for the victory. His tackling and distribution was also top draw as he proved that form is temporary, but class is for life!
His involvement in the Sale’s winning second try evened out the crap officiating shown for Flutey’s five pointer, as he was a fecking 25 yards in front of the kicker before the 60 yard chase commenced. Swings and roundabouts.
The pattern of the first half seemed to be Sale penalty, Irish try. Flutey’s try aside, the two grabbed by Tagicakibau and Armitage showed the pace contained in the LI back three. Tagicakibau picked up the pill in his own half after great work in the tackle area by Magne and sprinted like a man involved in his battle against night terrors, out stripping Billy Whizzless en-route.
The Armitage try was pure fecking class, as that young fella showed his full array of skills and pace. Flutey broke for the blind side and committed his man before popping a pass to Horak. Horak showed soft hands, but not in a homo way, to move the ball to Armitage on the wing who chipped a perfectly weighted kick towards the line. He then pinned back his lugs and set off in pursuit before winning the foot race, picking up and dotting down. Pure class from a man who can go a long way in this game.
With the aforementioned kicking shoite and the class of the other fella, the half time score was 15-12, an indication of the friggin’ fight the Cheshire side own.
With the Irish pack missing key components namely Leguizamon and Kennedy, plus the late withdrawal of Rautenbach, the Sale pack was starting to get the upper hand. Good line-out pressure from the home side had limited the visitor’s options, but by God they mullered the Fran-less frontrow come scrum time.
This power in the fat feckers proved to be the weapon of choice in the second period, with pick and go moves plus the odd battering of the maul gaining solid field position. Their first try came about from such power as the fat feckers steamrolled their way towards the promised land. Determined defence failed to prevent the final surge as Titterrell borrowed through the tightest of holes to glance the line. The TMO confirmed the fears of the Irish lads and allowed the Sharks to regain the lead.
Irish took this set back well as they again gained the upper hand in the contest both in territory and possession, but the points gathering had stalled due to Sharks defence of the highest order. For every half break made by Tagicakibau and Co, a fecking Sale man pounded the offender. They really were showing the spirit and commitment required of a team seeking the Holy Grail that is becoming champions.
The only route to getting the deserved points for Irish was going to be through kicking all fecking penalties on offer. Catt had assumed the responsibility after Flutey’s firing of blanks, but had missed a simple one, so fears for the game were growing. Like waiting for a freaking bus, however, two feckers were landed by the Cattmeister to give the Exiles the minimum in terms of leading.
With ten minutes on the clock remaining, step forward Mister Premiership-Try-Getter. With increasing pressure on the Sale line, the Irish seemed to be heading to one feck of a win and one that would have placed them in a serious mix-fest come play-off time. That was until a spilled pill session from the Flutey allowed the ball to be hacked up the field, chased down by Charlie and released to the support before Hanley grabbed the corner.
It was that friggin’ mare Hanley that grabbed the ball breaker as far as Irish ambition on victory was concerned. Following good work in the middle of the paddock from the Sale fat feckers, the ball was pinged to him. He then went and broke the hearts of the Exiles and increase the curse of the Paddy’s Day celebration games by out-pacing all in his wake to claim the try.
With the game over as far as winning, Irish got a penalty about forty metres from the posts and fairly wide out. Catt’s decision was to kick for the corner and hope for a surge from the pack. A try would have secured two BPs, and would have been something from the game that had promised so much. The resulting line-out lead to nothing, allowing Martens to sling the ball back to his 10, who kicked to touch to end the match.
Fair play to the Sale Sharks for winning what was an excellent advert for Premiership rugby. They showed great desire and togetherness throughout the eighty minutes, showing why they are at the top of the pack. Concerns for them in preparation for their assault on the HC next week against Biarritz will be injuries to key personnel. Cueto limped off having been beaten up by an AG advertising hording, Robinson went with leg fault and also Wigglesworth failed to complete the game.
The positives for Irish are numerous as they start the build up to claim a top four slot. The injuries did fecking little in the pack, but the lads that stepped up showed the strength and depth of the squad nowadays. The measurement of the team against the best is increasing, although a win against the top three is needed to prove how far they have come.
European Cup distraction next week before the away day at Wuss. Lets give Bayonne a real fecking and let the confidence drip through the side in preparation for the run in. Sale away in the semi would be tasty, and this game shows it could be taken.
Irish: Horak, Armitage, Pedro Tiesi, Catt, Tagicakibau, Flutey, Hodgson, Hatley, Paice, Skuse, Casey, Roche, Danaher, Dawson, Magne.
Replacements: Ojo for Horak, Willis for Hodgson, Russell for Paice, Strudwick for Casey, Thorpe for Magne.
Not Used: Warren, Geraghty.
-- Master Scribe