If Bristol’s assault on the Premiership title has been compared to ‘climbing a mountain’, then last Friday’s defeat of Wasps suggests that we are clearly out of the foothills and now making a serious push for the summit. More Everest than Brent Knoll in the scale of the potential achievement, Pat Lam will no doubt be drawing strength from the exploits of his fellow countryman, Sir Edmund Hillary, as he plots his way to the top. With a raft of willing Sherpas around him and a fan base dizzy with altitude sickness, the record books await.
As the first team to reach 50 points in the league and double figures in the win column, it was also a significant victory in the theatre of monkey back removal. Forget bogeymen, the Hornets of Coventry have had our number almost as long as Ioan Lloyd has been in formal education and have been regular serial killers to the hopes of Bristol fans. Beating them after 15 barren years required serious voodoo to banish the hoodoo and in Charles Piutau, we had a witch doctor who bedazzled the opposition with his twinkle toes and fancy feet. There have been rumours that Springsteen might be playing Ashton Gate next year on a European tour, but I have news for him – don’t bother son – as we already have a Boss in BS3 who is born to run, and at times on Friday, was also on fire.
Having said all this, I wasn’t that confident in the run up to the game. Despite their own injury woes, Wasps still named a pretty solid looking 15 and although Piutau, Hughes and Byrne were making a welcome return, a huge Sheedy sized hole had emerged at half back. Given the fact that there had been official confirmation that certain players had thrown their hats into the ring it can’t have given Tiff Eden much confidence when Pat reluctantly chucked him the jersey. But it could hardly have gone better for the lad. Despite looking like a home counties grammar schoolboy with his rosy cheeks and curly hair I was mightily relieved when he emerged from the changing room without his briefcase and lunchbox, relatively happy when he settled into his rhythm and positively whooping when, at one point in the first half, he out-jackaled the jackal merchants and slotted his own penalty. And to top it all he executed a perfect one-two off the upright to Niyi Adeolokun which eventually led to Joycey’s first ever Premiership try. Realising what a potent strategy it was he even tried it once again before the game was done. Where ‘post match Pat’ has generally been a bit grizzly in recent weeks, this time he seemed more serene in the garden of Eden.
I do like a Friday game in these lockdown days. After a full week at work, settling down with a couple of tinnies and a Pimms Pizza is about has good as it gets, and I was pleased to see that Mad Max Lahiff also agreed. Interviewed by the in-house media team with the clip released on Twitter, he delivered such a random piece of insight that any viewers who had stumbled on the channel by mistake must have wondered whether they were watching a Salvador Dali retrospective. From his starting position of rutting the post like an Ashton Park stag to his manic exclamation that ‘he loved it, loved it’, Max also professed to very much enjoy the long weekend that a Friday game afforded, presumably so he could spend more time reading the major works of the Surrealist movement whilst simultaneously sculpting his filthy rig down the gym. As the King of the non sequitur, I had to rewatch the clip several times before I had any idea what he was going on about. The clip has now gone so viral that an emergency meeting of SAGE has been convened and Boris Johnson is contemplating asking Max to be his new pandemic Tsar.
My pre match mood was further enhanced as BT viewers, that is, the only viewers, were served a lovely treat when skills coach Sean Marsden single handedly debunked the lazy theory that men can’t multi-task by running a full paced warm whilst simultaneously doing a Q&A with Craig Doyle and Ugo Monye. Like a breathless PE teacher drunk on the enthusiasm of his willing students, Sean took us through a complex array of drills that basically amounted to the clear message that doing the simple things well was the key to success. The pundits were awestruck when he even picked up his own plastic cones, clearly amazed that he had lowered himself to basic manual work. ‘Extraordinary’ mused Craig Doyle as a BT Sport runner moisturised his cheeks and handed him a glass of prosecco. It was a fantastic piece of TV and credit must go to both Sean and the production team who managed to find enough sticky tape to keep his microphone attached to his face as he sprinted around the pitch waving various colourful cards in the faces of the players as they rumbled past. Without wanting to diss the ‘normal times’ match day presentation team of Slick, Downsy and Brizzly Bear (remember them?) these little pre-match TV vignettes have been one of the bonuses of ‘TV only spectating’ and not having to mill around at Ashton Gate before home game queuing for a beer, watching a grown man in a Bear suit do one armed press ups and hoping that the dance cam operator doesn’t pick you out of the crowd and shame you in front of thousands has been quite a relief. Dance cam? I need to have a lie down.
So, heartened by the pre match entertainment and enthused by the warm up I was fully expecting Bristol to hit the ground running and accelerate into a healthy lead at half time from which they would just about claw a narrow win in the second period, as has been the narrative in recent weeks. However, to my surprise it was an opposite story as they soon raced to a 10 point defecit, after dominating territory, butchering two serious visits to the 22 and affording Carl Dickson the opportunity to be inducted into the crazy penalty awarding Hall of Fame when he pinged Dave Attwood for the lowest high tackle ever known to man. As someone remarked on Twitter, if the big man had ducked down any lower, he would have ended up in Australia. Dickson did, at least, seem genuinely apologetic about having to give it although the look on Dave’s face suggested it wasn’t a reciprocated feeling. However, he was soon able to vent his fury by executing a glorious carry that will forever been known as a ‘Sit down Fekitoa’. His marmelising of the chunky Wasp at full flight was like watching heavy lifting machinery lay tarmac on a new motorway and the fact that the commentary team spent well over five minutes analysing if from every possible angle says everything you need to know about Atwood’s contribution to the team effort. Forget climbing the mountain, he is the mountain.
Anyway, after a Charles Piatau line break that would make silk blush which led to a try from Piers O’Conor, a Premiership player more consistent than a bowl of perfect porridge, and a couple of Eden penalties, Bristol managed to haul themselves up to a 16-13 lead in the break. In some ways it had been an odd half. Despite trailing early, I never felt we were going to lose and, as we often seem to be saying at lot at the moment, on another day we could have been out of sight if we had turned pressure in to points. However, it took the somewhat fortunate one-two off the post that led to Joycey’s try to really get us going and then when Adeolokun scored in the corner with his first, meaningful carry of the match it felt that a solid four points were in the bag. However, Jimmy Gopperth literally delivered us a bonus by attempting an audacious cross kick along his own try line which merely led to a red zone lineout for us and a weary shake of the head for Lee Blackett. ‘Jimmy, will be Jimmy’ he said mournfully in his post match interview as yet another win bonus slipped by. Chris Vui’s eventual score was so unexpected that a certain Bears’ supporter ended up with a black eye after punching himself in the face whilst celebrating. If you want to find out more click here for the latest episode of Bears Beyond the Gate.
So, all in all a solid and professional performance punctuated by moments of sheer brilliance, but one that applies further cement to our position at the top of the table. With more big players reported to be close to match fitness and only one Six Nations match remaining, the Bears look set fair to mount a twin peak challenge for domestic and European glory as we move into the business end of the season.
Filthy Rig 