The positive is that we all know that we can play so much better and there are any number of ways we can realistically improve on our performance. And against Sudbury, and for part of the time against Aylesford, we were playing almost as well as we did last year - if we had maintained that standard thoughout we might have been in with a shout to retain the title.
Unfortunately we were dreadfully inconsistent. The dithery response to restarts continues to be a major Achillies heel, and was compounded yesterday by a remarkable reluctance to dive on a loose ball when kicked ahead by the opposition - something that cost us at least two tries. Both of these faults centre on the same thing - indecision over what to do when the ball is bobbling around at our feet, but hopefully we have now learnt that standing around in horrified fascination (as if it were some sort of unexploded bomb) is asking for trouble - as is leaving it to someone else to defuse. The solution is simple - in case of doubt dive on it! The opposition have to let you get to your feet, which means that you keep possession and gain a vital couple of seconds for support to arrive.
"I'm sure I saw a ball around here somewhere..."
The other negative was our tendency to take too long to "get our game heads on". Admittedly we were not alone and against Westcliff in the first game both sides spent the first period apparently trying to see who could make the most embarrasing errors (an inability to see from one end of pitch to the other didn't help). Our problem was that mist cleared from Westcliff's minds rather sooner than ours - they woke up in the second half of this game whereas we seemed to still be fast asleep until the second half of the following game with Aylesford!
This was a pity as once we did realise that the tournament had started - ie. the game with Sudbury - we were back to our best, playing as well as we did at Wimborne last month. But then - after a full lunch - it was (from what I hear) slumberland again when Basford hove into view (fundamental rule - you cannot run through Basford's defence, any more than you can run through a brick wall!), rounded off by a very tired performance against Welbeck College.
Maybe last year we did benefit from going to Beckenham after all? For all of it being a long way to go for not much rugby, it perhaps did allow us to wake up before Rochford and maybe we performed better as a result. I also suspect we a missing a certain inspirational 18-year old far more than we realise (and no, I don't mean Joe...).
Despite whatever some may have been saying, we are still fundamentally the same team as last season - and the good news is that with the Nationals 10s and National Cup now in the spring we now have plenty of time to find that form again.
A slideshow of photos from yesterday, taken by Natalie's mum Joan, are now available at http://www.flickr.com/search/show/?q=14th+October&w=98589557%40N00&ct=6&ss=2.
I saw this and thought of Letchworth, digest, enjoy but most of all take the action.
ReplyDeleteFrom Will Greenwood’s column, The Times, Saturday 3rd February 2007, the occasion of Jonny
Wilkinson’s return from England exile.
Forget all the talk about Jonny Wilkinson and
England’s chances of winning the Six Nations. It
won’t be on the field that the future is decided. It will
be in the lead-up to the opening games and it will be
the same for all the teams in the competition.
The week before a Test match is all about removing
luck, about controlling what is controllable, about
ensuring 22 players are in the best possible state to
play their optimum rugby.
Selection has already been made, training has been
planned and is completed. Media day is fulfilled.
Tactics are discussed, downtime is enjoyed with a
day off, while the final team run took place
yesterday so that all the i’s could be dotted and t’s
crossed.
The night before the game a film will have been
watched, a massage enjoyed, a final supper
devoured. Sleeping tablets get swallowed by some,
hot chocolate for others. Come match day and lunch
is pushed around the plate because the butterflies
will allow nothing else. After what seems like an age,
bags are loaded on to the bus and the journey
begins. Music is listened to, cars are overtaken with
the help of police escort, arrival planned for 90
minutes before kick-off.
Players collect their bags and walk through the
crowds to the changing rooms. You hear the noise
but retreat into your own world. Kickers get changed
early, always the first out. The front row find a dark
corner, staying close, aware that they must go to a
place where none of us can follow.
Physios and doctors are flat out, as most players will
have ankles and shoulders strapped. Some are lucky
enough to require neither, others resemble Egyptian
mummies. Many players will read the programme,
others clean boots, change studs so that some are
longer than others. Luck socks get worn, right boots
on before left. The soundtrack is provided by iPods
playing the theme to Rocky, The Clash, Take That,
whatever gets you on edge.
More and more players drift out on to the field,
different routines for different positions. Some jog
around the field nice and slow, others are out of the
blocks, spinning, stepping, accelerating. Then the
rush of adrenalin that follows with the knowledge of
what is about to take place. Half an hour to go, back
into the changing room. Team uniform for the warmup,
match shirts put on only closer to the time. Many
hit the caffeine trying to perk up and boost
awareness levels. It’s legal. Others stay on the
water.
Time for a sit down, the coaches take centre stage. A
talk through, the opening kick-off routine reminded.
Defence coach reiterates importance of solidity.
Attack coach talks of patience and discipline. The
head coach gives a final overview, underlining
opportunities that have been gone over all week,
reminding the side of their basics, their game plan.
They they have finished.
Team huddle as the captain has a quick word, trying
to hold his troops back. The fitness guru is waiting
outside, so the captain leads his boys out and the
crowd react. Layers are in the zone, but not al. Some
have not yet flicked the switch. Each to their own.
Warm-up. Heart rate raised. You had better be
ready. A split – forwards and backs go their separate
ways. Forwards must do more lineouts, must hit
something and preferably each other. Bone on bone
tells them it is almost time. Backs enjoy the feeling
of the ball hitting their hands, of delivering the
perfect pas.
A move is rehearsed. Then the squad come together
again. Team-play, half a pitch covered, patterns
rehearsed. Hit a power runner, zip it wide, focus on
the coach’s key points. Some rucking drills, some
power running, then some hits. This is not training
ground stuff. Bags are hit at full tilt, replacements
bellowing encouragement.
The sweat is pouring off you: you wonder how you
will manage a game – and then it ends. A last word
on the field and then walk back into the changing
room. Water bottle gulped on. The intensity of the
occasion has your blood pumping. Shoulder pads on,
helmets secured. Shirts fitted into – the new ones
are so tight you may as well paint them on. Physios,
kit men, replacements all help. Boots are re-tied,
gum shield kept in mouth or shoved
down sock. The five-minutes knock
on the door from the ref.
At that moment you could be English
or Scottish, French or Italian, Welsh
or Irish. You could be at
Twickenham, at Cardiff, at Rome. No matter what
language you speak, when the knock comes you
must be ready for confrontation, physical and
mental. You must be ready for punishment. You
have to be ready to go to work. It is here that
the game is decided. This very moment. Not in
the anthems, not in the first kick, not the first
points. It happens in the changing room, with
your mates.
Your rugby soul stripped bare, the reason you
play the game. A final handshake, a final hug,
the captain’s final words. Looking around you
and seeing the unity, the desire. It is then that
you know the game is won, that the game is
yours.
Well done girls for getting back up on your feet after each knock down, you did well and carry great team spirit.
ReplyDeleteNice Photos Joan - Phil better watch out!
ReplyDeleteNot sure about the unexploded bomb analogy, John. Yes dive on rugby balls but don't on unexploded bombs!