Northampton Saints
News: Champions. Yes, you’re not dreaming...
By Mark Hazell
June 1 2014
The story of how the longest Premiership season ended four minutes later than it could have done. And how we were, in mind, body or spirit.
Aviva Premiership Final 2014
Saracens v Northampton Saints
Saturday 31st May 2014
Twickenham, KO 3:00
Saracens 20 Saints 24
And breathe...
Saints became the eighth Champions of England in the most dramatic ending to any final of any competition ever, spurning a drop goal opportunity that would have won the trophy on tries scored to go for a try to win the game outright.
Sounds straightforward. We now all know what we'd do if a four minute warning came - we'd wait for the TMO to find in our favour.
But more of the boring bit later. With both sides almost at full strength, it promised to be a close affair, with most "experts" finding in one side's favour or another with the key word being "just".
The expert I had sitting next to me (after I ventured my view that we’d win by less than five) predicted that Sarries would play no rugby and be nine points up before you knew it. He was nearly right - Owen Farrell kicked two penalties and then pushed a third wide whilst Saints struggled to get possession. As every bit of possession we got in the early stages seemed to be kicked away, you couldn't help but feel we were making a rod for our own backs – ironic, as our own backs were throwing themselves into every tackle.
Just as I was starting to think it might be a long afternoon (how little did I know), and with Sarries starting to push for more than penalties, relief in the form of a scrum near our own line after a Farrell forward pass. From the scrum, Ken Pisi took the ball as first receiver, cut inside the first tackle and ran. And ran. Sixty plus metres later, and with Saints swarming for a try, Alex Goode went offside and a first penalty in Sarries’ territory was forthcoming.
The subsequent kick to the corner just confirmed what’s been seen in the last few weeks – this is a team that backs their ability to score tries, rather than tick the scoreboard along (this MAY be a theme I come back to in, ooh, another seventy minutes of playing time). The lineout saw Steve Borthwick transgress, and a second kick got shoved in the same place. When JP Doyle saw fit to extend his right arm a third time, it would be fair to say that a card seemed imminent. Instead, the ball was switched along the line, Luther Burrell surged and offloaded to Ken Pisi, who produced an instant pass to Ben Foden, who used the acres of space he had been afforded to cross the line for Saints first score. A Myler conversion, and a lead just after the half hour. From the supposed nine point lead was a very different story – the expert and I exchanged glances, he disappeared for a pint and that was the last I heard from him all afternoon.
It certainly changed the atmosphere in the stadium; there seemed to be a surge in belief that, actually, we could win this. Now the important thing was to get to half time in front; with Sarries in our 22 that wasn’t the easiest of things to do, but monumental work from Courtney Lawes to get over the ball and seal it off meant the maul that looked like it may rumble over the line collapsed with the scrum going our way. One rather nervy scrum later, and a Myler kick to touch, and we could all relax for a short time.
Stats you don’t need to read at half time #1 – only one team had ever lost a Premiership final from being in front at half time (Bath in 2004).
As I commented to Lom just before the second half started, unlike 14 years ago, we had 40 minutes to hold on for this time, rather than just the 35. No changes, unsurprisingly, and we were off again in the quest for the holy grail, but this time with Saints attacking the heavily Saintly north end of the ground.
Once again though, we couldn’t get the ball, and the hope of holding on for forty lasted four before Farrell made it 9-7. From the kick off, Saints went again, with a misplaced pass allowing George North to loop around and power on towards the line. With Sarries being forced to overcommit at the breakdown, the ball was switched inside again, Corbs was cut in half by Jacques Burger, but the ball still got to Myler, whose pass agonisingly drifted way out of Burrell’s reach and into touch. As this was only the second time we’d had any sustained pressure in the match, you had to think that we had to start taking these chances; the need was growing to hold onto the ball as the only way to progress, so although it was still early, a change of direction was definitely needed, with a change in personnel looking a distinct probability as well.
Corbs came off, as did Mikey Haywood, for Alex Waller and a fit again Dylan to enter the fray. Could the shoulder hold up for half an hour? With Kahn Fotuali’i and Salesi having gone just before (for Dicko and Tom Mercey), and Calum and Samu disappearing just after (for Dowse and Daisy), the eggs were being given the greatest possible time to hatch.
The first lineout following the changes went wrong though, and it took sterling defence to force the penalty just metres from the line. Thankfully though, we only had to wait a short time to discover that the timing of the substitutions, one of the criticisms that has been thrown at Jim at various times over the last seven years, had been timed just right. Saints worked the ball out from the lineout; Dicko’s box kick bounced back off Vunipola, and the ball went through the hands of Myler and Burrell to find a galloping George North on the wing. Although Ashton managed to drag him down, the ball was worked back inside for Foden to gain a metre and more crucially the space for the ball to be put back into Myler’s hands. A superb grubber kick behind a flat Sarries line led to George Pisi beating Ashton to the dive and the try, confirmed by the TMO. Another excellent Myler conversion, and the lead was 14-9.
Admissions you’ve waited far too long to make #8 – I said years ago that Stephen Myler would never win us the Premiership (to be continued)...
From the kick off, it looked momentarily as if the dam had been broken. Dicko broke away from the kick off, and it very briefly looked as if the game could be sealed shortly. We were snapped out of that mode immediately. A subsequent box kick was recovered by Chris Ashton, and with Saints straying offside, the ball was shipped out along the line to Alex Goode, who threw a wild one-handed pass out to Chris Wyles on the touchline. Having collected the ball over his head, a smooth pass inside left Owen Farrell with the easy job of scoring the try to level the scores.
But then Farrell's exuberance took over as he booted the ball into the crowd and dropped like a stone. Cramp apparently, but the ensuing delay brought about one of the strangest incidents seen in this or any other season. Whilst Alex Goode was lining up the conversion, the big screen started replaying the try, and focussed on Goode's pass, which looked forwards. And still looked forwards every time it was replayed.
Amidst prolonged booing from the Saintly hoards, JP reviewed it. It was only later that we found out that he had been asked by TMO Graham Hughes if there was anything he wanted to look at. Sure enough, the forward facing hand meant no try, and instead a case of going back for a penalty advantage awarded what seemed like five minutes before.
It was a let off that needed to be capitalised on. Farrell disappeared to be replaced by Charlie Hodgson who was welcomed to the field by what can simply be described as an awesome tackle by Courtney. That aside, with Hodgson on the field Sarries looked more threatening. Still they had given no kickable penalties away, and as three more points would probably have won the game for Saints, the last fifteen minutes would be try and keep what you have whilst building on it.
Somewhat inevitably, the lead didn't hold for that 15 minutes. With seven minutes left, the best Sarries move of the game led to a try, Hodgson's trademark smooth pass found Schalk Brits, and the machine (deservedly back in the real South African squad) committed North and offloaded the ball behind the Welshman's back for Marcello Bosch to dive over in the corner.
Oh no oh no oh no oh no...
You'd have put your house on Hodgson making the difficult conversion, and memories of the semi final in 2010 came flooding back (brilliance from Brits, conversion made, two point defeat). But...
The ball bounced back into play off the inside of the post and it now truly was anyone's game. One kick to win. So when Saints gave yet another penalty away just inside the Sarries half and Bosch tested the breeze, all sorts of bad thoughts went through my head before the ball went to touch.
Discipline was needed, and as the clock ticked down and out, both sides tried in vain to find the thrust to stop extra time. They failed, Twickenham exhaled, and we prepared for the first Premiership final to go to twenty more minutes.
Boring fact #134 - Saints last went to extra time on 21 December 2002, when we eventually beat Orrell 55-44 after being 44-34 down at the end of the first half of extra time. Anything over a three point deficit now would be decisive, let alone ten. An announcement was made during the break (which I eventually heard), declaring that the winners in case of the score remaining level would be the ones who scored more tries - that lovely, antiquated rule that only rugby can produce.
Nicer still when in the third minute of the twenty, a kickable penalty finally came, which Myler accepted. It would have been even better had the lead not lasted a matter of seconds before Hodgson reciprocated.
And then the moment we dreaded - Ashton went through a massive hole in the defence (how has he not seen the blocking) and after a few more phases got the ball to a fresh Jackson Wray (how has he not seen that blocking) who in powering for the line ran over Alex Waller before getting very close to scoring (GO UPSTAIRS MAN, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD). Not for the first time (or, as it would prove, the last), JP went to the TMO, and thankfully, the blocking by Vunipola was spotted (although not the additional block by Kelly Brown on Myler), and the play was taken back upfield.
Exit Alex Waller to have his face stitched back together. Corbs returns.
Ten gone. Ten to go. Not a lot of time to score twice, so it was a case of who would blink first.
Blinking heck...
Having missed every Sarries knock on all afternoon, JP decided to penalise Luther for a deliberate bat down of a Hodgson pass around thirty metres out (which raises the question if he was so sure, why no card?). Just what you need when the all time highest points scorer in Premiership history is now kicking for your opponents.
20-17 down, seven minutes left.
Back comes the younger
It was now a time for brains to overcome bodies. A long Myler kick ended Vunipola’s game through cramp, which meant Sarries would now have two hookers on the field for the last five minutes.
Three points needed,
Saints went for the territory, side to side to side to get as far upfield as possible. Finally, a Sarries knock on, and a scrum in their half.
Mathew by this stage cries he can’t bear it any longer. I just tell him to watch as it might be history.
The scrum wobbles, but the ball comes out on our side. Still the rumbling goes on, as the forwards drive forwards with the backs occasionally seeing the ball. Out to the wing with Myler, back in with Sam Dickinson and Captain Woody.
A hubbub of noise.
More reminders of May 2010, as Myler doesn’t look interested in the drop goal. Seconds ticking. Five metre line. Dylan goes and is stopped. Woody goes and is stopped.
Thirty seconds.
Dickinson held up but goes down in stages to the ground. Dicko to Dowse. Three metres short. Agony. Waller with nothing. Dicko to Luther.
He’s there!!!!
No he’s not!!! Ten seconds. One metre. Get it back to Myler...
Another pick up and flop from someone I don’t get the number of. Arms up in the air. The clock is dead. JP has blown. The game is over, but have we blown it?
TMO time.
Countless replays come up on the big screen. First Saintly arms go up. Then the red shirts are celebrating. More angles. Nothing from the length of the field away is conclusive. And then...
The replay that shows the ball grounded comes up, then the replay that shows it with a green shirt behind it.
The northern end of the ground chant “try, try, try”. The players have stepped back and are looking happy, but still no-one knows.
The spirit that the players have shown all season has come down to this one decision. If ever divine intervention were needed, it was now.
So many good people should be here today to watch this. Leon. Westie. Welly. Papa Smurf. Peter Robertson. Mum. Others.
The decision didn’t seem to come from the truck in the car park. This decision came from up on a cloud.
JP is talking and listening, and then...
HIS RIGHT ARM HAS GONE UP!!!!!!
Bedlam. Utter, utter bedlam.
Cue a primal roar I have never heard the likes of before. Every Saint is jumping up and down, hugging those nearest to them and screaming. Literally screaming.
SAINTS ARE THE CHAMPIONS OF ENGLAND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I don’t see the start of the pitch invasion. By this point I am absolutely bawling my eyes out, squeezing all life out of Mathew whilst Lom has taken the camera to record me looking a wuss forever.
I do see Sarries bodies in bits around the pitch. I do see, in the distance, men in green jumping up and down. I see the podium already coming onto the field. I also see the figure of Stephen Myler, shouting at JP to come back so he could take the conversion. Of course, it goes over.
Admissions you’ve waited far too long to make #8 (continued) – I was wrong. Very, very wrong.
This is what it feels to win. I remember having a conversation with Chris Wearmouth after the LV Cup win when I told him that the best way to win was with the opposition coming at you with time off, turning the ball over and getting the result.
Wrong again. This is the best way. Whatever happens, this will never be forgotten or beaten, even if we win the thing for the next fifty years straight.
Something special has just happened at Twickenham.
The BBC website says it was Alex Waller who scored the try – the man many of us thought unlucky not to be starting the final; the man with his face ripped open minutes before. We’re think we’re one eyed. A lad from Kettrin with only one eye fully functioning had gone and won us the best thing ever.
Sarries went and got their medals. Some of them didn’t deserve to lose today – the wonderful Brits, the retiring Borthwick. Premiership finals are not a good place in which to make your last appearance. Sarries were much, much better than last week.
Saints were much, much better than last week.
Ben Foden led the team up to get the medals, with the trio of Dowson, Wood and Hartley last up. The first ever triple trophy lift...
The pitch celebrations were as wild as you’d expect. Luther running the trophy down to Jim at the BT bench. The Pisi haka. A pop star and her husband trying to get a two year old to sit still in the trophy. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
All I ever wanted was to be champions of England. The Heineken win was good, but I didn’t want to be part of a quiz answer with Brive. Many tried and failed. We all had dreams of this day. We all wanted to see Uncle Keith with the big cup. European rugby wasn’t there when he came along; he wanted us to be the best in this country. We always have been. We are now officially.
To everyone who contributed to the Saints legacy, thank you. To everyone who made 31st May special, thank you.
We are humbled.
We are Saints.
We are Champions.
Tom Wood Says:
Courtney & Ken
And the Man who took us on the journey
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What a great report
David L
What if there were no hypothetical questions?
- Live wrong and preposterously
The future's bright - the furture's BLUE, BLACK and WHITE!!!
I have just watched the game again after getting home from the bus parade and don't think I'll stop smiling for many a day.
Thank you all for a wonderful season.
It was glorious.
The vertigo was not so good. But I will forget that.
COYS.
"Your days are numbered. Use them to throw open the windows of your soul to the sun. If you do not, the sun will soon set, and you with it."
-- Marcus Aurelius, Roman Emperor 161-180 A.D.
We are Saints.
We are Champions.
Fantastic report - emotional.
Who needs a nomination for DoR of the season when you can have five finals and three trophies, including the domestic big one, in a single season?
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You must have been typing through a mist of tears !
Once a scrum half .... always a scrum half
Top of the League 2014-2015 Season
Great report, many thanks.
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