If the previous game had seen Bristol slowly grinding through the gears to get a narrow win, then the visit to Brentford saw a first half in overdrive and second where the wheels came off in spectacular fashion. Not only a game of two halves but a game of two benches and a whole lot more to boot. For the Bristol fan it was like starting a journey on a smart, efficient bullet train and ending up on a vomit inducing switchback rollercoaster. And that’s no exaggeration. Enduring the last ten minutes was up there with the three most stressful experiences in my life: doing a bungee jump of the Kawarau Bridge in New Zealand; being caught opening Christmas presents early when I was seven and watching childbirth. On the final whistle I imagined Bears fans across the land (come on, everyone loves us now) panting in harmony on their sofas as they tried to get their pulse rates back to a semblance of normal. Talk about inspiring a community though rugby. It was more like rugby conspiring to send a community into respiratory failure.
It was a game of both talking and turning points and in a weekend of drama across the Premiership, with cards, charge downs and caterpillars (standard) Bristol Bears and London Irish served up an encore that was worthy of the big stage with fans getting serious bang for their buck and causing the TV commentary team to reach for their dictionary of hyperboles on, like, a million occasions.
But despite the rip snorting nature of Bristol’s rapid first half ascent to bonus point glory, the warning signs were there for the second half tumble. When Dave Attwood hobbled off in the warmup alarm bells perhaps started to gently vibrate and then when Sam Bedlow saw yellow after a minute as he faced a tsunami of green by going all retro with the sort of tip tackle that is rarer than a drop goal – that is, no-one does them anymore – you wondered whether London Irish were plotting to upturn the ‘comfortable win for the Bears’ narrative.
But in a passage of play soon to be filed under the ‘when fact is stranger than fiction’ section of the rugby library, Bristol managed to accumulate a staggering 17 points when at a one-man disadvantage. Granted, London Irish played their part. Getting more excited than a puppy on its first walk in the woods and trying to force the play by gifting two interception tries was handy. Unravelling at the lineout to such an extent that Will Capon set up camp in midfield to gratefully accept the numerous overthrows was charitable. But Paddy Jackson kicking dead on two occasions was downright criminal and when Bedlow trotted back on you did wonder whether his teammates felt like telling him to take another ten because, as we know, once Bristol get their pecker up it takes a while for the blood rush to subside.
The remainder of the half was then essentially a tale of two double acts. On one hand you had Charles and Siva, two great rugby showmen who took handling skills and footwork to a magical level and on the other, ‘Dicko and Tempo’, a pair of match officials whose regular and amusing interactions seemed more like a live audition for a remake of Last of the Summer Wine than a discussion about the laws of the game. Whereas the Bristol duo were Siegfried and Roy at the height of their fame in Vegas, the other two were more Paul Daniels and Debbie Magee at the Winter Gardens in Weston. All great in their own way, but just a different kind of magic.
But I digress. As well as scoring two great tries, Siva treated the kick chase as a one man search and destroy mission. Forget about a few weeks off getting reconditioned, he clearly spent the time watching the whole Marvel Cinematic Universe. And when it comes to Charles Piatau’s first half performance, the strange noises emerging from Ugo Monye in the commentary box every time he touched the ball is all you need to know.
So, despite a try just before the break, like Ali in Kinshasa, London Irish were looking at a defeat halfway through the contest, but as the second half developed their rope-a-dope became clear as one by one they emptied some serious international experience off the bench at the same time as Bristol removed theirs. Much will be made of the early substitutions of the three Bristolian All Blacks but whatever the reasons behind those decisions, it was a clear turning point in the contest and from the moment big Steve Luatua left the fray, Irish began to rumble. The carding of Mitch Eadie didn’t help either. In fact, he was so ashamed of his indiscretion that on his return he tried to compensate by following the government’s ‘always wear a mask’ guidance to the letter. But by then it was too late and there was nothing stopping the spread of the London Irish comeback. Suddenly it looked like men against boys and as the Exiles started to make inroads into the lead, the Bears became George Foreman – a slow-moving beast, swinging wildly and missing – and as their foe grew in stature they retreated to the ropes. In a chastening second half where every attempted hit became a miss only a solitary Callum Sheedy penalty struck the mark and ultimately the system imploded. How Irish did not go on to win at the death with the try line at their mercy is a mystery that only Tom Parton can answer and there is no doubt that their comeback was both thoroughly deserved and achingly inevitable.
In recent games ‘post-match Pat’ has resembled an irritated father, impatient with the sloppy behaviour of his sons but on Sunday he was less a Grizzly Bear and more a Raging Bull. He looked apoplectic and his ominous observation that tackling had become ‘optional’ in the second half clearly showed he had individual players in his sights, and no doubt many of them will have been running for cover this week in training. It is a big moment for the Bears project. We are still leading the Premiership by three and have more points than the champions Exeter did at the same stage last year so we must get this perspective, but with injuries, international call ups and an inevitable suspension for Bedlow, we are looking worryingly thin in key positions and must ensure that we arrest this slide in our ability to take control of the ebbs and flows of a game. However, the beauty of sport is that the players who remain have a chance to immediately put things right and although a visit from a resurgent Leicester Tigers team purring nicely under the stewardship of Steve Borthwick may seem daunting, we must put our faith in the system and the ability of both the players and the coaches to learn and move on.
If you want to hear more irreverent and sometimes even insightful chat about this game then head over to the latest episode of Bears Beyond the Gate
Filthy Rig 