90 Point emotional ride
On March 7, Scotland played France at Murrayfield in the Six Nations Championships. I don’t follow rugby like I used to but I follow Scottish Rugby and have supported Scotland since I was ten years old. Dad gave me no choice in the matter. There’s been a lot of different emotional responses to Scotland games over the years. This one was all over the place.
The game’s opening minutes are fast and frenetic. Five minutes have barely ticked off the clock and Scotland score through Darcy Graham. Finn Russell had dropped the ball, bounced it like it was a basketball, before Graham partly squeezed, partly burst through for the score. Seeing a French player drop the ball whilst looking up into the sun immediately has me thinking it’s going to be our day. It is a bit scrappy, but we move the ball well. We even get a little bit of the rub of the green when Finn Russell almost illegally obstructs a French player with his butt. There’s been days when that would go against us but not today.
The French get a chance to put some pressure on Scotland, but we withstand it and get the ball back at our own goal line and then relieve the pressure. I find a moment to fling my arms in the air and say: “The French player knocked the ball on about five times there! How does that go unnoticed?”
Theo Attissogbe, the French winger looks like trouble with ball in hand. A moment later Attissogbe, chasing a grubber kick looks dangerous again. Moments later there’s some sort of daylight robbery that leads to a French score. One minute the ball is there. Sione Tuipulotu seems to have it all safely wrapped up and the next moment he doesn't, and France score out of nothing. The weird thought that crosses my mind is that I wouldn’t have minded if as much if Theo Attissogbe had scored. But it’s the other winger, Louis Bielle-Biarrey who scores. Although from a Scottish viewpoint it looks like the ball comes out of his hand before he touches it down.
Moments later France find themselves in a good position due to a bullshit penalty. And then Attissogbe scores. Twenty minutes in and we’re down. Is this one of those days when we’re in it but don’t quite play well enough to win it? How are we down? Attissogbe looks dangerous.
It’s not too long until we’re on the attack again. There are some big French tackles going in but at least one of them isn’t legal and sets us up nicely after a penalty puts us within ten metres. At which point Kyle Steyn puts in a move straight off the practice ground and cuts back against the grain as hooker George Turner nonchalantly flips the ball his way. For a short range try it was very flashy.
When we later get a penalty a very kickable penalty we choose to kick for the corner and go for the try. My thoughts immediately go to: A good team just kicks the points and takes the lead. Keep the scoreboard ticking over. We’d be 15-14 up. You look damn silly if you don’t now score. From the lineout it’s grin grind grind. Again, hands in the air, I’m asking, “How is that not a try? The ball is actually in goal!” And then an ugly five metres later Pierre Schoeman thunders, or flops, depending on your opinion of Schoeman, in for the score. The crowd cries, “Schoooooooo,” as they always do whenever Pierre Schoeman touches the ball. Typically, it’s a couple of metres and a flop, and a short cry of “Schooo.” How long they make that noise if he ever goes on a long gallop we may never know. I also stop to think if there are special Schoeman spotters in the stands to alert everyone else to make the Schooo noise.
I’m then a little upset that a French player is sin-binned for ten minutes. The last thing I ever want to give the other team is excuses. Although if we take full advantage of the man advantage and destroy them before the half then I’m OK with that.
That never happens. We pile on the pressure, but they hold until the half. I’m asking the ether, “How do you score no points against 14 men?” It’s 19-14 at half time. Nothing to be ashamed of? Are we any good? Are France any good?
The second half starts with Scotland piling on the pressure and Ben White nipping through to score under the posts. The funny thing about being 26-14 up is that it sits with you that all it needs is one French try, one mistake by Scotland, one bad bounce of the ball and it’s a close game again. That’s why at 26-14 the thought is – Do not let up please.
And then Kyle Steyn makes it 31-14. The French gifted us a try. Stein intercepts a loose pass and doesn’t look back. Are we any good? Or are France just having a bad day. At least we have a player in Steyn who can outstrip any team. In days gone past we’d have a winger who’d have been caught from behind.
You’d think you feel safe at 31-14 and part of me does feel, “Wow, we’re really sticking it to them” and part of me feels that, “One French try and they’re right back in this.” Which is why one bad pass by Blair Kinghorn, killing a good attacking move, has me groaning and thinking that it’s still not in the bag.
Three minutes later it is in the bag. With a penalty advantage the ball gets strewn around like no one cares what happens to it and then Darcy Graham dances in again. There’s 22 minutes left in the game and the French are down to 14 men for ten minutes. It’s 40-14. There’s 20 minutes left and we’re a man up.
The Scottish try in the 63rd min to make it 47-14, looked like a forward pass to me. I get the feeling the ref just wants to go home now. Anything goes. Two minutes later Antoine Dupont scores for France. It’s a move that covered the length of the field and Attissogbe, he is so smooth, does much of the damage. There’s a beautiful pass in there, and one forward one, but hey, we’re even now. Chris Patterson, in the commentary booth says, “You cannot switch off.” But, even with the score now 47-26, which seems a fair reflection, Scotland do seem to be missing that cynical kill the game now mode.
Rewatching the game to write this article, and I almost don’t want to re-watch the last 15 minutes. I’m thinking, “Where does it fall apart?” With five minutes left it’s still 47-26. What does it matter at this point? But it does seem to matter.
I was thinking how desperation leads to brilliance, but it can also lead to sloppiness. A careless turnover and I say to myself, “There you go. That’s the way these things go. You can only chance it so much before it bites you in the butt.” Only, I do feel that this isn’t desperation now. It’s just utter abandon. What’s anyone got to lose now?
With a penalty in kickable, range Scotland elects to kick for goal. I can’t help but feel that there’s something about finishing the day on a nice round number that influences that choice. We want to be able to say that we put up 50 on the French. But wouldn’t it be better to kick for the corner and wind this down? We should stick the ball up our collective jumpers and finish this thing.
Leading 50-26 with 3 minutes left. The game is won but it’s not over. France seem to have got the memo but Scotland seem to have all fallen asleep. After a soft try, from a tap penalty, following some fluid passing, Oscar Jégou scores for France and makes it 50-33.
50-33. How does that feel? It would have been nice to finish with a flourish or just grind the game away and we can always say that the French scored a lot of their tries in garbage time when the game was all but over. With 80 minutes gone and the clock in the red Scotland seem to be waiting for the final whistle. What is everyone playing for now? Thomas Ramos scores the final try of the day, after a beautiful break and superbly timed offloads. Now the game is officially over. Scotland wins 50-40.
After taking a moment to acclimatise to the real world, and once the giddiness had subsided, the first thought was, like everyone else, wow what a game? And then I get to thinking how Scotland look pretty good right now. And then it comes to mind that we only won by ten points in the end. What does any of that mean? Is there someone out there who might dare to say, “You only won by ten points. That’s hardly a thrashing.” Winning and losing isn’t always as black and white as people think. Neither are emotions.
Re-watching the game, knowing the result, remembering all the emotions of watching it live, I had an interesting thought as Ramos scored the last try. What would it matter if, as he crossed the line, instead of grounding the ball, he refused to score, maybe hoofed the ball into the crowd? What’s seven points anyway? The championship wasn’t likely to come down to a seven-point points difference. Is there such a thing as a meaningless score? If so, then this would be it. It sort of puts the whole idea of scoring in a new light. Imagine the outrage if he had refused to score. People would treat it like an insult to the game. Every try is sacred. We celebrate the number of tries a player scores. Every try that’s scored seems important in a larger context. The sports idiom of they all count does and doesn’t ring true. Interestingly, despite the game being out of reach for France in the last twenty minutes, the level of excitement in the crowd and commentators was still high. It’s almost as if the excitement had nothing to do with the competition and more to do with the thrill of the sport played at its most free. The last twenty minutes reduced sport to art, something aesthetic.
If Ramos had refused to score, we'd all have had an opinion on that. We'd have called it disrespectful, ridiculous or hilarious. It would have been one hell of an exclamation point to end on. Instead, he did the normal thing, and it didn’t matter, didn’t change much. It changed the story, if you’re telling the story in numbers. 50-40 hints at the type of game it was, except it doesn’t really. Games like this aren’t supposed to feel normal. 90 points of mayhem doesn’t seem to make sense. When Ramos grounds that ball for the last try, there’s a look on his face that seems to say, “What now?”
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