Jiffy, Cake, and Adding Pounds


A man can fly...

By Mark H
October 9 2006

Time off at the start of October is pretty much impossible (half-year financial reporting deadlines, etc), so it was with a longing heart that I sat down to watch the Falcons on BBC2 Wales on Friday night.

Let's face it, I was expecting a defeat.  Worse still, having had the pound a point sponsorship idea, I was dreading a Sale-type score.  My prediction league effort was less than optimistic too - a 29-20 defeat, with the 20 being more in hope than expectation.
 
I still wanted to be there though; I hate watching matches on TV, especially when I'd rather be at the game (ironically I didn't have that problem on Saturday night, there's always better places to be than Newport).  It may have been something to do with the pink shirts, to actually see them on, as they still hadn't made it to Milton Keynes (arrived Saturday morning - look good with a pushchair in the shopping centre).
 
Anyway, Scarlets had brought almost a full strength side; Falcons found the fittest men registered and put them into the shirts.  That soon meant nothing, as the lineout worked when Matt Thompson went short (helped by the lifters trying to throw Eni Gesinde over the stand), and the scrum wasn't going backwards.  When, later in the evening, it started going forwards, even on Llanelli ball, I woke the baby up.  My thoughts were that he needed to see this, obviously.
 
The facts - Tom May dropped a goal early on (I learnt on Saturday evening on S4C that the Welsh for Tom May is, ummm, Toby Flood), before it was cancelled out by a penalty.  Full back Barry Davies then calmly slotted one from just behind the South Stand, and the worries started appearing.  Why, I don't know, because when Lee Dickson (another who had a cracking game) fed Flood from a scrum, the gap created meany that Jamie Noon had a unchallenged run to the line.  Flood's drop right on the whistle brough a 13-6 lead.  Nice.
 
And, given the season so far, barely credible. 
 
In the studio, Jonathan Davies looked less than chuffed.  In the kitchen, I found chocolate cake.  Both were very enjoyable.
 
The important thing was not to throw the lead away.  A penalty made it 13-9, but just when you expected the backward motion to start, we got the exact opposite.  Pink power.  Perry and Gesinde made way, McCarthy and Wilson (B) entered.  Grindal replaced Dickson.  Wilson (D) came on for the bullocking Williams.
 
Behind the scrum, Dwayne Peel was reunited with Stephen Jones, the best half-back pairing in Britain for club or country.  However good they are, they proved the old adage - if you can't get the ball, you can't do anything with it.  With me bemoaning the lack of a final cutting edge in the Scarlets 22, I uttered rubbish about the next score being decisive.  Five minutes late, Noon went through the bagatelle board and crashed through three black shirts to score.  Another fifty quid for charity.  Tobes made the points up to 20.  I just wanted the Welsh tally to stay at nine.
 
The final flourish, a Scarlets lineout a few metres out.  Peel threw a pass not quite on the desperate scale, and Brent Wilson juggled, held, and ran.  Seventy metres before Peel caught him.  Good recycling meant the ball could be spread out; Andy Long committed the defence; Flood produced the three course meal with coffee for John Rudd to feast on.  Anthony Elliott did a handstand.  I grinned.  The conversion was missed; not to matter, I'd have taken 25-9 any day.
 
Texting out the final score and tryscorer produced the immortal response "I beg your pardon?!"  This was real, this was fantastic.  Phil Dowson had not only captained superbly, he'd played a stormer; indeed, it would be churlish to look for those who didn't do it, as it was the consummate team performance.  Finally, there's some difficult decisions when players are fit.
 
Back on BBC2W, Davies looked like someone had told him he'd have to work with that idiot Guscott at Bath in 18 hours time.  This was not according to script, but frankly my dear, I (and every other Falcons supporter) didn't give a damn.

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