In the end, the rash of armchair commentators accusing Saracens of being more boring than a TV Christmas special were as predictable as the lack of fireworks at the end of The Big Game 4. Since Saracens started playing a certain type of game two and a half years ago, everyone has been at it, although most hail from Gloucester.
Why this prejudice? It is true that in the early days, when Saracens went on a ten-match winning streak, the main attacking threat was one of arial bombardment, followed by a chasing loose forward. Brian Moore must have been in his element to see so many kicks properly chased up.
Today, the gameplan is different, as indeed it has been for two years. Yet Saracens are still accused of not allowing teams to play their natural games. Aha! The truth is out, because this has nothing to do with Saracens and everything to do with the fans on the end of a drubbing.
Take The Big Game 4. Saracens started the game like tyros and profited from it. Had they not butchered a lineout (against type), the first score might have been earlier than Strettle’s interception, but we’ll settle. As for the number of penalty kicks won, three of those first half penalties were for not releasing the player, but does anyone call Quins cynical? Did the ref go to his pocket?
What is most bizarre is that the most cynical teams are often the most admired. Richie McCaw doesn’t know the meaning of onside, and I don’t know where to start with the French, but both teams run the ball well because they start with the basics. If I was to say anything about Saracens, it wouldn’t be that they were ‘too good’, but that they were hopeless at finishing teams off. I have seen many needlessly exciting games this season, especially since Saracens put fifty on Leicester in a rare show of ruthlessness.
If these so-called fans are so keen to seen open, end to end games, there is always the Barbarians, or the Harlem Globetrotters for that matter. To me, it isn’t rugby to keep losing the ball, or to miss tackles just to see if the player will get ten metres further up the field. Frankly, losing dramatically isn’t even sport, unless you’re the underdog, in which case that’s life.
