It was said after the recent France/Scotland international that a team that has to win will always beat a team that merely wants to win. That was certainly the case against Stade Francais yesterday. It was a horror show. I can’t even remember the final score but with a penalty count of 23-7, we did well to come to within 10 points.
Stade knew that a win would guarantee their qualification for the final stages and they totally blitzed us. We were jaded and missing a few players, nowhere near the level that dominated Clermont 2 weeks ago.
It was the most ill-tempered match I have ever played in. I feel like I write that every week... This was proper derby rugby and there is no love lost between these two clubs, especially for the fans in the stand. It all flared up (on the pitch) in the second half with a huge brawl. After our Bourgoin brawl where I played a less than minor role, our coach had instructed us that if there is a ‘worry’, we are 15, together, 1974 Lions style (though he didn’t use that example). So, with me feeling a little guilty, and with his words ringing in my ears, I ran in. Not possessing the necessary mentality to whack someone, I stood next to my openside flank who was ploughing into someone in pink. He must have landed at least 6 punches. It was all I could do to make sure the referee didn’t see.
It was wonderful. I had to try and stop a smile. This was proper rugby, true animosity. I don’t condone fighting in rugby...actually that contradicts everything I’ve just said. But it was exciting to be a part of a game where the stakes where so high and the fellow players were at such a high level of sheer aggression that it spilt over like that. Some of these guys are street-fighters at heart. It’s not something for every week, but a part of me is pleased that it kicked off. After all, you’d be disappointed if a Stade/Racing game was dull and pleasant. We weren’t happy that only one of our players was carded, as usually it’s one for each side when such a mass fight takes place. The referee's logic was, "He was the most violent". This hulk will probably be playing 2nd row for France under 18.
The match ended with us just outside a score, despite a late rally getting us closer. Personally, my match is dominated by being totally and utterly steam-rollered by what can only be described as the next Mathieu Bastareaud. He looked like him and played like him. I console myself with the news that he played several games last year at the age of 17 for the pros in the Top 14 and was making his way back from a knee ligament injury. He came down my channel and the rest is symbolised by the crowd’s “ooooooohhhh”. I managed to explain to the physio after the game that nothing hurt except my pride.
Stade mocked our chasse a l’ours after the game in their victory celebrations which caused further unpleasantness. But we had the last laugh, safe in the knowledge that we had already qualified as 1st in the pool, with a collective suspicion that a loss at this stage might be no bad thing, bringing us back down to earth, rejuvenating the work ethic in preparation for Toulon. So we went down into the shade behind the posts, the parents cracked open the champagne and their home-made cuisine and we sat around, chatting and bantering, letting the bubbly wash away what was, in reality, a highly frustrating, humbling afternoon.
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