‘We’d travelled with the initial hope of seeing England clinch the title, instead we saw one of the great Six Nations games’
ENGLAND and Scotland shared 76 points in a thrilling Six Nations draw at Twickenham Stadium on Saturday afternoon. Ten of the 12 tries were scored before the South Stand where our rugby reporter BOBBY
BRIDGE was watching the Calcutta Cup clash. Here’s what he made of an unforgettable encounter...
“I CAN see this ending badly,” I said in hushed tones to a tighthead friend for-the-day as strangers rubbed shoulders in the drizzly uncovered front rows of the South Stand.
Magnus Bradbury had just gleefully romped over the goalline before me for a second try in three minutes to bring Scotland within 12 points of England, who at one stage were 31-0 ahead.
“Nah, nothing to worry about mate. We’ve got too much for them,” he replied, attempting to lift the dark cloud that was hovering over my head.
Scotsmen, who were invisible in the first half around me, were rising to their feet, finally they had something to cheer after a derisory first half that gave no indication of what was to come. England were cruising. For a second time in two years I was witnessing my country silence Scottish optimism with a blistering start. Clinical, expansive rugby. Elliot Daly playing with counter-attacking intent, Henry Slade, gliding. The forwards powerful and dominant. The crowd buoyant despite hopes of Six Nations glory disappearing with Ireland’s meagre attempt to detail Wales’ Grand Slam mission.
In the South Stand I was privy to Jonny May breezing over untouched, Jack Nowell’s robust finish, Joe Launchbury’s dummy and drop. Keep it coming England.
I even muttered Scotland didn’t look like a Test team as they lined up behind the posts, hands on heads and body language bewildered as England laid the foundations for what should’ve been another victory over the old enemy at headquarters.
Stuart McInally’s charge down of Owen Farrell’s kick and 60-metre romp to the line didn’t feel like a momentum swing. It was an error set against the context of an otherwise joyously one-sided first half.
With Scotland’s third try in the bag through the above mentioned Bradbury effort, I could feel my mobile phone buzzing with messages and notifications in my pocket. I knew they would be from fellow Anglo-pessimists.
Frozen with fear my worst sporting fears were being shared elsewhere, it remained concealed and out of view. This isn’t happening. It can’t happen.
While so much is written on social media and said in rugby circles about the attitude of the English rugby supporters for perceived arrogance and aloofness, little is made of the ghastly experience of having a Red Rose on your chest upon suffering defeats to our friends in green and red.
Frankly, Scotland do not even come into the equation, it just hasn’t happened frequently enough in my lifetime for it be in the same bracket.
Some will tell you English rugby supporters aren’t as passionate as some of our nearest rivals. For me its a nonsense theory, the fear of failure and what follows is motivation enough to feel every moment deeply.
Graham’s second try was followed by Finn Russell’s interception score to draw the side’s level at 31-31. The Scottish pandemonium around me was juxtaposed by the silent, stunned shock of the home support.
While boos rung out around the giant stadium as England put boot to ball, I felt some blessed relief. We looked more under threat with the ball in our possession. Kick high, chase hard. Billy Vunipola’s spill afforded Scotland the chance they needed and Russell’s devilish pass for Sam Johnson score we could scarcely believe. Scotland were ahead.
With Russell’s strip of Elis Genge and subsequent boom down field for the most perfect of clearance kicks, it was all over. 80 seconds left and going from inside their own 22.
Orchestrated by George Ford, England worked their way up to the opposition half and a penalty punted to touch prompted desperate cheers.
The best case scenario now only a draw. The aforementioned Leicester Tiger ghosted over and knocked over the routine conversion. Game over. 38-38. Having travelled south with the initial hope of witnessing England clinch the title, should Ireland have rediscovered their golden touch, instead, we’d witnessed one of the great Six Nations games that will live long in our memories – yet left both countries pondering what might have been.
Some will tell you English rugby supporters aren’t as passionate as some of our nearest rivals. For me its a nonsense theory.