Ollie Smith gasses O’Driscoll
2nd April 2005
This is the moment.
We know we can do it. We can beat
these. It’s a Leinster throw in after a
booming clearance by Andy Goode. Louis
Deacon rises above the Irish international pair of Mal O’Kelly and Leo Cullen
to steal the ball. It goes through the
hands to Ollie Smith. He’s up against
the Blackrock bullet. The best centre in
the world, the best player in the world.
He’s about to be confirmed as Lions captain. He’s Brian O’Driscoll, talisman of the
Leinster challenge. He doesn’t stand a
chance. He thinks he can cover the
inside runner, leave a gap to his winger.
He’s Brian O’Driscoll. Walloper
of Wallabies, frier of Frenchies. He can
give this Young Turk from Hinckley the outside no problem. I’m standing on the terrace behind the action
at this end, where the old gouge in the terrace was, I can see the gap “GO! GO!
GO!” Ollie is miles ahead of me. He’s gone, gone, gone. O’Driscoll is left grasping at air. The knot of Tigers on the terrace goes
wild. Believing is half the battle. Half the battle has been won.
The Hand of Back
25th May 2002
Neil Back was a bastard.
A tough bastard. A great
bastard. But a bastard none the
less. This was the triumph of his
bastardness. It’s the 79th
minute, though in real time it is more like 90, and the score stands 15-9 to
Leicester. Munster are lucky to be this
close. Johnson’s already had a try ruled
out as has Freddie Tuilagi. Munster’s
wing O’Neil came close, only a super human tackle by Austin Healey kept him
out. John Hayes and Graham Rowntree’s
scrum tussle has got the referee Joel Jutge’s attention. He’s on that side as the scrum goes
down. It all happens in a blur. Peter Stringer is flapping his arms about,
Corry has the ball at his feet and Healey fires the ball towards the touchline. Has Dorian West just won it against the
head? No. Neil Back, that magnificent bastard, has
instead. Replays show that Lewis Moody
tried on the previous scrum what Back achieved to so much derision at this
one. He won the ball. He “cheated”.
But then, so what? He wasn’t the
only the player to risk a penalty for a turnover that day. The Corinthian ideal of fair play was old hat
when Tom Crumbie was knee high to grass hopper.
You do what you can to win, and if you win then you’ve made the right
calls. Neil Back was a bastard
alright. But he’s my bastard.
Healey rolls over O’Gara
25th May 2002
This try epitomised everything
that was great about Healey. He’d been
in iffy form in the run up to the final, it wasn’t certain he’d start at all
let alone at 10. But Deano was no
mug. He knew a big game player when he
saw one. And Healey knew a weak tackler
when he saw one. He had Ronan O’Gara in
his sights. A dummy to Rod Kafer was all
it needed, O’Gara was bent out of shape showing Healey a weak shoulder and an
inside track. It was a purposeful and
powerful burst, the sort that got him 50 England caps on the wing, as he
ghosted through O’Gara and his attempted tackle. Under the posts and after grounding the ball he
flicked the Munster fans behind the goal a cheeky V sign. V for Victory perhaps?
Stimpson hits the bar then post
April 28th 2002
Llanelli. In
Nottingham. It wasn’t going exactly to
plan. They’ve been all over us, though
have never threatened the try line. It
doesn’t matter. Llanelli 12 Leicester 10. The final’s to be in Cardiff against Munster. The clock is ticking down and Llanelli are
safe in Tigers’ territory. It’s a scrum
just past the Tigers’ 10 meter line.
Darren Garforth gives one almighty shove. Martyn Madden buckles under the pressure and
referee David McHugh whistles for Garforth.
We know the script from here: kick for the 22, maul it forward, ruck it
centrally and have Goodey, Geordie or Stimmo drop the goal. West and Johnson are deciding where to chuck
it in, when Stimpson has a different idea.
“I’ve got it” he says. On the
angle it is 60 meters easily, even on a short football pitch like this. Behind the refs back he steals a metre. Has he got the legs? Only one way to find out. It starts to drop, is it going to make
it? Short, oh my god its short! BANG off the cross bar, its ballooning
up. The Leicester fans in the Trent End
are blowing it over, the Llanelli fans behind the posts blowing it out. BOFF off the post. Splodge in the mud. The crowd roar as the touch judges raise
their flags. We’re going to Cardiff. Thank god for that metre.
Healey’s break, Lloyd’s finish
19th May 2001
This was of course the greatest of them all. 20,000 fans travelled to the Parc Des Princes. And we were losing. Diego Dominguez had kicked 9 penalties and a
drop goal to give Stade a 30-27 lead with only moments to go. How long?
Nobody really knew. This is
France, there was no clock.
Obviously. Why would we need a
clock? It’s only the European
final! It’s a lineout about the half way
line, just inching into the Stade half.
Its slapped back on the Leicester side and Hamilton flings it towards
Healey. The Stade defence is rushing up. But it isn’t in a line. There are more dog legs than a Korean
buffet. Venditti is the unlucky one
singled out. Healey is through the gap
with only Christophe Dominici between him and the line. But he’s slowing, he’s cramping up. Not now Austin any time but now! Leon Lloyd is steaming in on his outside from
his right wing position. Healey spots
him and times his pass to perfection.
Lloyd is now in foot race with Dominici to the corner flag. To the victor the spoils. To the victor a European title. Nobody beats Lloyd to the corner. Not today.
Ospreys’ wings clipped
December 18th 2005
This was an ugly game, Ian Evans has taken Ellis out with as
vicious donkey kick after the whistle and Gavin Henson has kicked Moreno in the
head after breaking his nose with an elbow.
Tigers are deep in their own 22 with the clock showing 80. Down 15-10.
This is going to take some doing.
Ospreys have never lost a game at the “Liberty Stadium”. We need some magic, some inspiration. We need Andy Goode. I remember the two keys moments of this move
differently. The first I remember the TV
view, the second from my seat. The
first: It’s a ruck inside the Tigers 22, the defence of the Ospreys is
narrow. Tom Varndell is not in acres of
space, he’s in hectares of space. Goode
finds him with the cross field kick and he is haring into the Ospreys
half. Stefan Terblanche is the last man
back and makes his tackle. If we’re not
careful we’ll lose this. Ollie Smith
arrives in the nick of time. His rucking
is superb, he hefts Terblanche out the way but stops himself so he can bridge
over the ball and keep it in the ruck.
We’re now back into my view, high up the stands on the 22 we’re
attacking. The ruck is on the other
touchline. Leon Lloyd is the senior back
and takes charge; the ball comes out to him in the middle of the field. He finds Dan Hipkiss on his outside. Is this the moment? No. It’s
another ruck. Lloyd is still bossing the
play and runs a switch to set up another ruck.
Hipkiss is back up and is on the blindside wing, near to us. Lloyd is still playing fly half. He goes to the line. He attracts the defenders. Hipkiss is arching his run in to support him
through the contact. But Wait! No he isn’t, he’s got the pass. He’s slipped through the net. He’s round the posts and the Tigers faithful
erupt. That’s why Lloyd was playing fly
half, he’s a bloody genius at it. What
bushel has he been hiding that under?
Goode converts and Tiger have a famous victory.
Dupuy’s dummy
11th April 2009
This is Vesty’s moment.
This what he dreamed of watching Jez Harris growing up, this is what he
dreamed of: The drop goal hero against
the most hated of foes. Bath. Spit. He remembers 1996 and 1994 and 1989. Bastards.
This one’s for Dusty, for Dosser, for Deano. Bath know it too. The scion of the club. 4th generation Tiger. His name has always been destined to be
written in the stars. He lines up in
front of the posts to drop for glory.
The ball is whipped back and the Bath defence is on him in a
second. He’s no time for the kick. The Bath defenders look pleased. Then the roar. They turn to stone. A funny sick coloured stone but stone none
the less. The Leicester team is
streaming into the end zone.
What’s happened?
Dupuy has happened. The Bath
defence is so quick on to Vesty he never passes the ball, slipping through the
fringe defence and grateful for Nick Abendonan’s turnstile defence he’s under
the posts. Sept points. Always in the shadow in of others in France
in Leicester he’s found the limelight.
He couldn’t look more French if he had a string of garlic cloves around
his neck a Gauloises between his lips and a wife on one arm a mistress on the
other. He couldn’t be a bigger Leicester
hero if he’d been berthed on the Crumbie.
JC kicks us to Edinburgh
3rd May 2009
We’ve bottled it. 14
points up “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” ringing in the Welsh ears and we’ve blown
it. Jamie Roberts has destroyed us, he’s
going on the Lions tour and you can see why.
We hang on into extra time, JC tries an outrageous cross field kick
which Tom Croft takes to within an inch of the line. Who does he think he think? Forwards don’t kick we all know that.
It comes down to penalty kicks, the first time since the
1981 French Championship, though no one remembers that at the time. Cardiff get first shot. To begin with it’s all going swimmingly,
Vesty, Dupuy and Geordan Murphy have slotted kicks as have Blair, Robinson and
Halfpenny. Disaster. Johne Murphy the Naas winger has hooked it
left. His John Lilley inspired technique
has let him down. Tom James the Cardiff
winger has his kick for the first ever Welsh final. I couldn’t even look. People talk about heart in the mouth moments,
but in reality it’s more like stomach hanging half way out your arse. Relief.
He’s shanked it wide right and I haven’t shat myself either. Scott Hamilton the unflappable Kiwi is not
flapped as he buries his kick into Glanmor’s Gap. Richie Rees squeaks his in the bottom right
corner. What’s happening now? Tigers have sent flanker Craig Newby up. Lions tourist Harry Ellis is available,
surely as a back he’d be better? It
matters not, his slow and rhythmic style ticks another over. It was probably the best kick so far. Martyn Williams is up for the Blues. Pontypridd’s finest is considered a
footballing flanker, surely he’ll have no problem? He looks nervous, shifty like a golfer with
the yips. He snatches at it. It’s missed.
I’m going wild in the stands.
This is it boys! Lion Harry Ellis
will slot it and we’ll be heaving into Edinburgh before you know it. Wait.
That’s not Harry Ellis, its Jordan Crane! Blonde hair slicked back with sweat, the baby
blue scrum hat left back on half way. He
lines it up. The contrast with Williams
couldn’t be more different. This is a
man who knows his place. He trusts his
skills. Pandemonium in the Leicester
end, across the aisle in the Cardiff block its rock bottom, dejection. As he finishes his kicking stroke JC
celebrates, is he yawning? Is it some
bizarre red Indian pow wow gesture? He’s
enveloped by Scott Hamilton. We don’t
care and drunk on victory (as well as the beer) we celebrate the night away in
Cardiff.
Much later we find out JC kicked in his school team ahead of
Shane Geraghty and Ryan Davies. No
wonder he was confident.
Varndell’s try sinks Stade
April 1st 2007
I can still see this try in my mind’s eye. Hipkiss, who never passes, has the ball going
towards the Alliance & Leicester stand, he steps one man and is left with
two defenders in front of him and Tom Varndell on his right hugging the Crumbie
touchline. Bergamasco straightens his
shoulders for just a second. BANG. The
pass, and Varndell with it, is gone.
He’s destroyed him taking 10 meters before Bergamasco can blink or
think. Made him look an April Fool. Under the posts, Goodey converts and Tigers
have their 1 point lead they never lose.
Tiger’s pack, O’Connell’s folly
20th January 2007
It’s 8-6 to Tigers.
60th minute. Tomas
O’Leary’s kick through has got Munster a penalty 5 meters out. Penalty for the lead or Try for the win? Try to crush the soul and the spirit? Try is what O’Connell wants. Scrum down he tells Joel Jutge. Scrums, Jutge, Munster and Leicester, what
could go wrong? Heave 1, and it’s
down. Heave 2, and it’s up. Heave 3 and Julian White monsters Marcus
Horan, splinters the Munster pack and the moment is lost. Soul intact.
Spirit higher than ever. 7
minutes later Ollie Smith seals the win and Thomond is demolished both in fact
and mythology.
Great article, good warm up for the weekend! Tells you something when there have been no memorable moments in the last 3 years!
ReplyDeleteI notice your recollection of the Munster game is a little less vivid than the rest!! No mention of Pau away - how could you have missed Beldwyn Jones' favourite away game ever??
Healey's break, Lloyd's finish. Greatest ever I can only agree! Another great story stu
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